#(<- tagging bc the last one technically falls into it)

[journey-to-the-attic]

another art post so soon?! i'm having too much fun with these

+bonus from the ddvd au

[nereidprinc3ss]

make me late

in which spencer finds a few minutes to spare with fem!reader in the morning

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence, sub reader, technically dubcon bc he doesn’t ask and she jokingly says stop but it’s not like that I promise, fingering (here we go again), 'slutty' is used to describe an action but not by spencer, spencer slaps r's ass one (1) time, (hot), mild overstimulation a/n: apparently need to post at least one fingering fic per week or i'll fucking die. very short and sweet but as always let me know if you like it, i have a crush on all of you!

You’re used to Spencer’s alarm going off early in the morning—typically you tune it out or sleep right through it. Today, however, it rouses you more than usual. You roll over, blinking your eyes open. 

“Sorry,” Spencer mutters, finally turning it off and leaning over to kiss your head. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him down again when he tries to get out of bed.

“Don’t go,” you beg into his shirt, slinging a leg over him. His hand slips under your (also his) shirt, rubbing the bare skin of your back.

“I have to. You know that.” 

“I just want you to stay for a little bit,” you insist. 

“No you don’t,” he drawls, voice still gravelly with sleep, “You want to make me late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say innocently, burying your face further into his shirt as if you could extinguish the heat in your cheeks. 

His hand drops from your back to reach under your thigh, pushing your underwear to the side. You gasp when his fingers make contact with your soaked core, involuntarily pressing your hips closer. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Stop it! That’s not fair!” You squeal, attempting to wriggle away once you regain your senses. But the bastard wraps his arm around your waist like a vice, forcing you to stay in place as he sinks a finger into you with no preamble. Instead of satisfying him with a vocal response, you keep your face hidden in the crook of his shoulder and remain obstinately silent. When he begins to slowly pump his finger, you’re forced to bite the fabric of his shirt to shut yourself up. 

“If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll stop,” he says plainly, but obviously he knows that’s the last thing you want. His ring finger joins the other and your mouth falls open, a tiny, choked breath against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

Don’t give in, you say to yourself. Wait. What are you not giving in to? Fuck, that feels good. You hum quietly—an excellent display of self-control considering the noises you’re actively holding back. 

“Are we already getting whiny?”

“‘m not whining,” you bite. 

“You’re always whining.” There’s nothing to do but prove him right when he begins massaging that spot inside you with a practiced stroke of his fingers—the one that makes you arch your back further and spread your legs a little wider—makes you oh-so compliant and all together, a bit slutty. But Spencer has told you that by definition, you’re not a slut if it’s just him who you lose all self-respect around. “My pretty girl feels so good, huh?”

You agree with a mindless mumble, forgetting that you were ever going to try and fight the pleasure. 

“It feels so good.”

“I can tell, baby. Listen to the mess you're making.”

Soft, wet sounds emanate from where you’re probably dripping around his fingers. A moan is muffled by his shoulder as your own fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt and sink into the flesh of his waist—though you doubt he minds. 

“Please don’t stop, please please please—" It’s quiet, almost demure as you plead. 

“You’re so sweet when you get like this,” Spencer coos. “I wish you were always so well-behaved.”

No, he doesn’t. Both of you know he loves fucking the attitude out of you, and at times, back into you. But you’re not in any place to correct him right now, as his fingers slip in and out of you so quickly, exactly where you want to be touched. 

“Oh, right—right there, that’s—oh, god,” you squeak. 

Your face is still nuzzled in his shirt, your voice is still so delicate and weak with sleep, rising in pitch with your pleasure until it breaks. 

“Right here? This is where you need it?”

“Yes,” you practically cry, “I’m gonna come, Spence—” your hips rock back and forth to meet each stroke of his fingers inside you, vision going white with with pleasure. 

“Yeah? My pretty girl is gonna come all over my fingers?”

“Mhm!” You speed up the motion of your hips. He chuckles, which might offend you if you were in your right mind, but it’s early, and you’re tired, and your soul is trying to untether itself from your body. 

“Let me feel it, baby. I wanna feel you coming, can you do that for me?”

A breathy keen rushes from your throat as your orgasm begins to suck you out to sea like a riptide, flooding your lungs and blood and everything with so much easy pleasure you’re barely awake and you don’t care one bit. 

“Uh-huh, good girl,” Spencer murmurs, not letting up with his fingers as you fall through your orgasm. Another choked moan takes you by surprise when his free hand falls with a heavy clap to your ass, before rubbing the stinging flesh. “Let go a little bit longer, baby, I’m right here.”

You’re barely breathing, still seeing stars as he continues to fuck you leisurely with his fingers, more out of pure affection than anything else. Eventually he slips them out, teasing gently over your clit as your stomach tenses. But you let him keep going. You’ll do anything to keep him in bed for a few minutes longer. To that end, you gather enough breath to speak. 

“Can you please fuck me?” 

He hums pityingly, moving his hand from between your legs to lovingly soothe the tender skin he’d slapped just a moment ago. 

“You know I can’t, baby. I shouldn’t have even done this. I really have to get a move on.”

“But you did do this,” you say, eager to point out the fallacies in his argument, “which means you could also have sex with me and we could be really fast and you could just take less time getting ready for work.”

Your chin is now resting on his shoulder as you look up at him with wide, imploring eyes, and he leans down to kiss your nose. 

“The answer is going to stay no, sweet thing. I don’t care how much you beg.”

He’s already gently sliding you off of him and getting out of bed as you pout. A few moments pass, and you can’t think of a good retort as he moves about the room, gathering a towel for his shower and digging through the dresser. 

“You’re mean.”

“Aw, poor baby. You only got to come once. Nobody has ever had a harder life than you.” Spencer dodges the pillow you throw and laughs, coming back to lean over the bed as you glower at him. “I’m sorry I woke you up. If you can’t fall back asleep in the time it takes me to shower, I’ll make you fancy coffee.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll be extra nice to you when I get home.” He kisses your head and then your lips, and then disappears into the bathroom. 

In a completely predictable turn of events, you’re dead to the world by the time he gets out of the shower. He makes you the fancy coffee anyway, leaving it in a thermos on your nightstand. 

He’s late to work. He can't pretend to be sorry.

[wondernus]

— DAD OF THE YEAR

SYNOPSIS: seungcheol accidentally reveals he has a daughter on a first date and doesn't know how to tell you that his daughter is a dog

PAIRING: csc x reader

GENRE: fluff

TAGS: first dates, dog dad cheol

WC: 575

MESSAGE FROM NU: s/o to this seungcheol for making it out of the dating app conversation phase & making it work bc I did it once and it did not turn out like this

seungcheol doesn't know if he has the heart to tell you that it was all a misunderstanding that he accidentally took too far. several hours of conversations on a popular dating app about various niche topics that piqued both of your interests led the two of you to skip the basics. he didn't find out about your occupation until twenty minutes into the current date.

when you accidentally drop your phone on the sidewalk, he immediately bends over to pick it up for you. but one of kkuma's several hair clips from the last time he walked her falls out of his jacket pocket and slides a few centimeters away from his hand. by the time he slips it back into his pocket, you've already seen the pastel-hued flower clip.

you tilt your head at him while he hands you back your phone as if to ask him who that clip belongs to.

"my daughter" — the answer slips out of his mouth before he can correct himself. he's already so used to calling his dog his daughter that it feels right to address her in that way.

when he realizes his mistake, he's expecting a question from you asking for an explanation about the bomb that he just dropped. his correction forms on the tip of his tongue, but you're quick to beat him. and weirdly enough, you ask him about her clips and whether or not he does her hair every day.

the several pistons that churn his brain are all firing at once. there's a frenzy happening in his mind. are you going to ignore the fact that he said he has a daughter even though the daughter is technically a dog? would you think of him differently? he already knows about how you always look at city bike riders to see if they've adjusted their seats high enough, but he doesn't even know if you're a dog person.

yet he casually continues the conversation. he's been sucked into a black hole. he loves talking about her accessories and the different ways he dresses her up. she's his daughter. of course he's going to spoil her and dote on her all the time. he can't stop talking about her and embarrassingly spends a good chunk of the date talking about her.

he talks about how she's the smartest in her class, how she's a picky eater, and how she sleeps by his side. he thinks you're fully convinced that he has a human child at this point, but he doesn't know when exactly is a good time to casually drop the fact that he has been talking about a dog the whole time.

"do you have pictures of her?" you ask him. the question causes him to physically stop in his tracks.

"huh?" he dumbly asks in response.

"your dog right? I remember seeing a pic of her in your profile." you're smiling at him.

all of the little fires in his head extinguish. smoke rises from the top of his head. gosh, it feels so nice to know that there wasn't a miscommunication. you're a good listener and you pay attention to tiny details that even he might miss. he thinks you're cute, especially the way your eyes seem to smile more than your mouth. he blushes.

"yeah. lots of them." he grins while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "we can picnic with her next time."

"great. it's a date."

[fastboatsmojito]

Nightmares - Scott Miller

| a/n; this isn’t technically for Moontober bc nightmares is day twenty seven and I have something different planned, but I woke up about an hour ago from a nightmare myself and this felt like the appropriate response tbh

| cw; just some angst and a little fluff, talk about nightmares, probably very self-indulgent idk what to tell you, one bed trope whoops, not super proofread as per the tags <3

| wc; 800

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You woke up suddenly, out of breath and sweaty, sitting up and trying to will yourself into thinking about anything else.

“Jesus, you alright?” There was an unfamiliar softness in his voice, probably just from being woken up by your panicked breaths, though you jumped anyway, shaky as you looked over at him, uncharacteristic worry on his face as he sat up.

“Shit sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Just a bad dream.” You mumbled, words caught in the back of your throat proving difficult to come out, both exhausted from a restless sleep and energized from the pure panic and anxiety. That was always the worst part, being too scared of your own subconscious to go back to bed, involuntarily keeping yourself awake to stop yourself from drifting back into the personal hell you’d found yourself in before.

“Do you.. want to talk about it?” His voice still came out low, though the gruff from not having talked on purpose quite yet was peeking through. He wasn’t too sure how to comfort anyone at all - questioning himself more than you, you weren’t so used to it either; his words rather than his voice alone surprising you this time.

You shook your head, less responding to his question - though it sufficed, more trying to shake out the mental picture and get your brain to function correctly because it wasn’t difficult to understand nightmares but understanding why they happen didn’t seem to help much.

You had a sleep journal, you corrected them as best you could in your head after writing them down, you drank stress relieving tea and read articles and books on dream study and what it all means and it helps but it doesn’t fix the deepest, strangest anxieties that build up over time. The bizarre collection of everything you’ve thought about in the last month coming back to haunt you in a way that feels personal because it is.

Your brain knows the absolute worst combination of everything you’ve thought about or seen or heard, and if you eat too much fucking dairy or think about one specific thing for just the right amount of too much time, none of the rest of it matters anymore. And maybe you weren’t doing enough but maybe you just needed someone to tell you that it wasn’t real because hearing it from yourself so often was getting a little old and -

The tears were sudden - they usually are, soft and warm running down your face and you didn’t notice until a tear dropped down onto the hand still clutching your chest.

And then a warm hand was cautiously rubbing your back and your overly-worried coworker was trying to understand. Surprising himself again when a simply reassuring ‘you’re alright’ found its way out of his mouth, yawning quietly after and probably trying not to roll back over and fall asleep - bless him.

If it were just a few days ago you would’ve been shocked at the mere fact you were even in the same bed - a little mixup caused by none other than Javi, but sharing a room was excuse enough to get a little too comfortable for ‘professionalism’.

You gave up on the whole ‘oh I’ll just sleep on this tiny, uncomfortable chair for a few days until it’s sorted’ act days ago, diluting your dignity and climbing into bed with your similarly less than enthusiastic coworker who gave up on that shtick after the first night.

He wanted to go back to sleep - he really did, his eyes were practically closing themselves. But he surely couldn’t sleep next to someone actively crying and though he could be mean and - more accurately; a dick, he wasn’t completely emotionless. In fact he found himself scared that you were hurt or something was wrong and he had no way of fixing it when he woke up to your rushed breaths next to him. He still wasn’t sure he could really do anything, he didn’t tend to have dreams very much at all let alone bad ones.

There was no protocol to go over in his head about comforting a coworker-turned-roommate after a nightmare. He couldn’t exactly control your brain for you, though after a second thought he would if it’d help more than the apprehensive hand on your back.

Once you’d calmed yourself down enough and wiped the slowest string of tears from your cheeks you turned to look at Scott with something akin to a smile in the darkness.

Hoping that it made up for the lack of spoken gratitude that was clouded up in the panic in your head for the quiet comfort he wasn’t really looking to be thanked for anyway.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[adonis-koo]

wicked • 15

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 13k

Previous | Next | Masterlist

tags: jungkook really loves grabbing mc’s throat, dirty talk, breath play, dom!kook, possessiveness, clit play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation (m & f), vaginal fingering, squirting, wet humping...?  is that a thing? slight size kink

Note:I’m so excited to announce chapter 15! I hope you all love it as much as I do, inbox is open for asks and I would love to hear everyones opinions bc im sure yall are gonna be feeling some type of way by the end.

“How dare you accuse my maid of such a thing!” You hissed out from your seat, glaring into Di Jin with a venomous glare, “She is no such thing as an assassin and you should be utterly ashamed of yourself for even thinking of such!” 

Di Jin slammed his hands on the stable snarling at you, “Then tell me why she’s been missing from several of her shifts the last month? The only person who would be able to get into your room late into the night with guards posted would be her? There was a second attempt, was there not?” 

You shook your head, trying to not let your jaw slackened at the blatant disrespect, “Because I authorized it! Her mother has been deathly ill over the last month and I’ve given her time to be away from the castle to tend to her!” 

Di Jin’s nostrils flared as he leaned back in his seat, as he stared at you for a long moment as if a predator sizing its prey, “What a convenient cover, tell me Princess, have you ever seen this sickly mother?” 

“I-” 

“Have you taken the time to track your servant’s whereabouts when she had stayed out even later than you authorized?” Di Jin growled. 

“I will not have my wife being interrogated,” The doors opened once more, Jungkook who had barely been held back on the other side had managed to break in once more, his father still arguing with him, “Not if I have anything to say about this.” 

Dae Seong had yanked him back by the shoulder, “You’re going to listen to me boy! Let him do what he needs to if you value her safety at all.” 

Jungkook had retaliated by grabbing him by the collar, yanking him closer as he snarled quietly, “If you value anything we still have then you’ll let me be by her side.” Jungkook shoved him away before swiftly walking up to the table. 

Di Jin didn’t even attempt to watch their squabble as he stood up from his seat, hands on the table as he leaned in, “Or have you knowingly let her do this?” 

“Oh yes,” You sneered standing up as well, challengingly glaring back, “It makes much sense that I’d be the orchestrator behind my own attempted assassination. I may be an outsider and I may not know all the in’s and outs of Penumbra but I will not sit here and let you dictate to me who I am or who my servant is!” 

Jungkook puffed a breath in satisfaction at the tongue lashing you were giving the old codger as he went to wrap and arm around you, “We’re going, if you’re finished.”

Di Jin’s nostrils flared at the interruption as you took Jungkook’s hand which had been extended in an offer to help you out of your seat.

“This isn’t over Princess.” 

Your eyes burned into his, “You’re right,” You placed your hands on the table as you leaned in closer to him, your voice deathly quiet, “This is just the beginning Di Jin, tread carefully where you walk in these halls.” 

Jungkook’s arm found its way around you once more as you allowed him to guide you out of the room, anger visibly trembling off your body as you tried with every breath to calm yourself down. 

“We need to speak to the others.” You forced your voice to quiet as you both stepped out of the frigid room. 

“I’ve already asked Taehyun to retrieve them all, we’re meeting in Namjoon’s quarters.” Jungkook answered steadily, “We’ll get her back Y/n.” 

“I can only hope.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Namjoon shook his head as he looked through the records that covered the small table of his office where everyone sat, “It does look incriminating,” He frowned at your pitiful state as you rubbed your forehead, “And it doesn’t help that you’ve given her unsupervised access outside the gate’s Princess.” 

You sucked in a harsh breath as you shook your head, “Had I known Di Jin was going to do this I would’ve had someone go with her…Is Taehyung’s word nothing? He helped her mother after all.” 

“Seer’s are not allowed into politics and worldly affairs.” Jungkook shook his head, his hands resting on the arm’s of his chair but seemed to twitch at the way you restlessly shifted in your seat, sitting a hair too far away for his liking, “Even though Taehyung can consort with us in private, his words would be seen as invalid to the court.” 

This made your lips quiver into a frown, the one person who could possibly save her was considered…invalid?

“Not only that but Taehyung could potentially jeopardize his position on the Guiding Hand if he tried to speak to court.” Hoseok chimed, leaning back in his chair in thought.

“And if Di Jin snoops about and Taehyung chooses to speak out regardless, he could accuse Taehyung of being another accomplice of hers, putting him in a cell right next to her.” Jimin seemed painfully sullen, his hand resting on his cheek as he frowned.

“What about her mother? Surely we could speak to her?” Hoseok asked.

“They’ve taken her into custody as well,” Jimin replied once more looking as though the whole situation disturbed him, “By possible accomplice of her, and since her mother has been cured of blood rot Di Jin suspects it was never there to begin with.”

Just his words made your hands curl in anger, “This is ridiculous!” Everyone looked at you as you hissed the words out, “What is the meaning behind this? Truly? There has to be an ulterior motive from Di Jin to accuse her of such a thing.” 

It was silent for a long time before Namjoon sighed, “Many things are hidden to us right now, perhaps for a reason. All we can do is focus on freeing Wheein.” 

“Still,” Yoongi grabbed his chin, “It would be worthwhile to see Wheein’s mother, and someone should speak with Taehyung about this, I’ve yet to see him since the whole incident.” 

“I’ll speak with him,” You volunteered yourself, “I’m sure he’s taken the news hard, and I’d like to see too it personally to assure him that we’ll find a way to keep her safe.” 

“I’ll go with you then.” Jungkook also spoke up, “Taehyung has likely not taken the news well, and knowing him he’ll want to speak with me directly. 

You frowned at this, your heart dully aching at the thought, “The least I can do is apologize to him for letting this happen.” You looked away from Jungkook as you heaved a deep sigh, “This is my fault after all.” 

You just wanted to be kind…especially when it was something you could help with, how could it end this way? Wheein had been nothing but kind to you the moment she introduced herself, and this is what she got in return. 

Had you been looking at Jungkook you would’ve seen the way his fist curled, aching to reach out to you, to do something, anything to try and ease the severe stress and guilt you were under right now. 

It was silent for a long moment before Jungkook spoke, thinking over his words carefully before he redirected himself to the men at the table, “Namjoon, I want you to look back in past schedules of who was on rotation during the nights Wheein went out and I’d like you to speak with them if you feel they’re allegiance is with the Jeons.”

“Hoseok I want you to keep track of Di Jin from now on, try to be covert about it and Jimin…” Jungkook looked across the table at Jimin who seemed to be staring at the wall, as if purposely ignoring the prince, “I know…your relationship with him is distant at best…” Jungkook frowned, “But if there’s any way you could talk to him, make him believe you're on his side…we need to figure out why he’s doing this.” 

“Jungkook…” Jimin sighed softly, looking at war with himself and for a brief moment you were confused until you remembered the words Wheein ushered to you many months ago. 

‘Jimin was the bastard son of the Head of the Guard’

The pieces were all slowly fitting together, Di Jin having been the old head of guard, which meant he was Jimin’s father…You sunk in your seat, oh dear what a mess things were quickly becoming…

Jimin relented, “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Thank you.” Jungkook’s words were sincere, “There’s nothing else to discuss at this time, don’t let me hold you all from your duties.” He waved to them all as everyone stood up, yourself included as you made your way to the exit. 

Yoongi opened the door for you as you quietly thanked him before stepping out, an odd absence filling your chest at the realization that Wheein was no longer escorting you to where you went, nor would she stay with you when you asked her too.

The rest of your day felt like a void, you still had your duties to attend to the project in the Market, you had to talk and be social with various businesses, walking them through their future new stores and making arrangements with various vendors about what to get for each shop. 

The day had passed before you knew it and yet all you could think about was Wheein, her tear stained eyes and whimpers when you saw her. 

It snapped your heart like a twig to even think about, out of everyone, why did Di Jin have to choose her as his target? It just didn’t make sense. And you firmly believed you were not being fooled here, Wheein had been easily the kindest person you had ever met in Penumbra. 

Arriving at your and Jungkook’s room it was quiet and chilled in the room making you tremble as you shut the door, only a few candles lit making it difficult to see as you glanced around, realizing you had nobody to help you change. 

Your eyes glossed over as you inhaled sharply, you could call for another maid, you should call for another maid. But your stubbornness wouldn’t let you as you stretched your arms towards your back, trying to haphazardly undo the back making your muscles begin to ache and twitch as you huffed. 

This went on for several minutes before you finally stopped and frustratedly dropped your arms letting out a quiet sob as you pressed your hands on your eyes, the one person who you trusted with your entire being was being falsely accused of your own attempted murder. 

Stress filtered your body once more as you hurriedly tried to push back your tears at the sound of the door opening. 

Jungkook had a handful of papers he was reading through when he walked in at the unsightly mess of you halfway dressed and the unmistakable look you always had when you were crying. 

He lowered his papers as he looked at you for a long moment.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Your eyes filled with tears once more before you finally gave up trying to hold them in, closing your eyes as you defeatedly let the warm tears trickle down your cheeks. 

Jungkook sighed, setting the papers down at the desk before he walked over, “You look pitiful.” Standing in front of you he gently cupped your cheek, pushing the tears from your cheeks, “You should’ve called for a maid.” 

“I have a maid!” You hissed out, “And she’s in a dungeon right now for something she didn’t do!” This made you weep once more as you shook your head, “Why would they do this Jungkook? Why? I don’t understand! There isn’t a soul sweeter than Wheein, why would they claim the assassin was her?” 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook frowned, “But if I had to take a guess, it’s because they want to place distrust among us from the inside,” Jungkook replied steadily, “If we can’t trust even our most loyal servants, how can we trust each other? The seed of doubt eventually blossoms in its own time. I’m not sure how, but the Rosewood’s are most likely the cause of this.” 

He gently turned you around before he began to undo the back of your dress, albeit a bit clumsy, but with patience the material slipped off. 

“Not only this but if we let this distract us they might be stirring to do another attempt soon.” Jungkook frowned as you turned to face him, “If you die in Penumbra it’s going to trigger a shattering throughout the entire continent. War will be all we know until we’re the last kingdom standing.” 

“If that's what it takes for Wheein to live I will gladly die.” You inhaled sharply. 

“You will not.” Jungkook grabbed your chin harshly, his eyes glaring into you at your words, “I know you miss her, but crying about it and being unnecessarily self sacrificial isn’t going to get her back.” 

His words stung, and the prick of hurt they caused made you shove his hand away, “You may be right but you don’t have to be so cold about it.” 

Jungkook tucked his tongue into his cheek as he scoffed, “Well princess, somebody needs to tell you, otherwise god only knows what you’ll do.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” You snapped back, not appreciating his bluntness right now, you had come to terms with the fact that Jungkook was nothing like that last love you had known, Seokjin was always dripping in honeyed words and sweet nothings. 

He loved to coddle you and dote on your feelings. Jungkook did no such thing, you had for the most part become accustomed to this, but in these moments of vulnerability it stung having your feelings coldly told to stop. 

“It means the last time you let your feelings overcome your logic this happened.” Jungkook snapped, grabbing your hand and lifting it as he shook it, the marks on your hands still freshly healed and scars evident, “You were unconscious for two days Y/n. Two days! If you hadn’t been so emotional you wouldn’t be wearing gloves every time we step out of this room.” 

It was silent for a long moment as you snatched your hand from his grip as if he had been the one to burn you, eyes watering now but they were glaring at him in hurt and anger and he let out a long sigh, as if realizing he perhaps, went too far. 

“As a Eunoian, we are kind and expect no kindness in return. You might look at me as nothing more than an emotional woman, but I would never turn anyone away who needs my help, that is not who I was raised to be, that’s not who I am. Yes it scarred me and no I may not remember all of those events, but I know I helped, I know I made a difference even if it was only for a few people and I will not let you stand here and chastise me over it.” You stared at him for a long moment indignant. 

How could he stand here and insult you like this? 

Jungkook looked away from you with a briefly strained expression, and you were familiar with it because he always made that face when he was holding his tongue, it made you scoff, “Well you might as well say what you want too, go ahead, get it off your chest since I’m being so emotional.” 

“You know what you sound like right now Y/n?” Jungkook chucked bitterly, “You sound like a martyr,” He pointed a finger low at you, “Nobody is asking you to do that here, not a single person. Whether you like it or not you’re the Crowned Princess, your life does matter more then a peasants because the whole fucking world decided to weaponize the little Eunoian Princess nobody would dare hurt as a political tool to make us heel like a bitch.” 

Your lip twitched at his words, “Oh I’ve been well aware for the last three damn years what I am to the world! Don’t stand here and try to educate me on that, I knew from the moment I was told I had to marry you that my life didn’t matter more than just being a good bitch to the crown!” 

Your eyes watered once more, “That’s what you said on our wedding night and you were right. But it doesn’t change what I believe or how I feel and if that makes me a martyr then so fucking be it! I watched as my own people sent me away with smiles on their faces all pretending as if they hadn’t exiled me from my own country as if I hadn’t given up my studies as a young girl to aide as a healer during the five year war as if I wasn’t allowed to eat if the people were hungry and when we were supposed to celebrate our holidays, we stopped to mourn the burning piles. I knew since I was a child that my life didn’t matter to anyone aside from what I could do or what I could give.” 

“It fucking matters to me!” Jungkook’s patience had finally worn, you were suddenly pressed against the wall, his hand wrapped your throat with the most delicate grip as his forehead pressed against yours, “Don’t you get it you stubborn, hard headed woman? Your life matters to me, I don’t care about any tradition or belief you have if it has anything to do with dying. I just got you, I’m not letting you go.” 

It was silent for a long moment as you felt his thumb tenderly trace against your windpipe as you sniffled. 

“You could’ve just said that without picking a fight. And you didn’t have to be so mean,” Your eyes stung with tears, “Your words do hurt, I know crying won’t get Wheein back, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m terrified of what they might do to her.” 

Jungkook’s expression softened ever so slightly as you closed your eyes, a few stray tears trickling down your cheeks, “I would never cry with anyone else like this, so let me do it with you, let me share the deepest parts of my heart with you, my deepest fears and concerns, my doubts and insecurities. You say you want me, that you don’t want to lose me, then show me you want me, all of me, even the parts you don’t like, even the parts you hate.” 

“I could never hate you.” Jungkook ushered out quietly, his hand moving from your throat to your cheek, “I’m sorry.” 

He kissed your tear stained cheek somewhat hesitantly, “I’m not used to navigating feelings, or emotions, or women…” This made a small smile tug on your lips, one he mirrored briefly as his hand moved to your chin with a little squeeze, “But you talking about willingly letting yourself die makes me upset, anxious and angry, the rest of the world might look at you as nothing more then I tool but I don’t. So value your life, because I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, Wheein would be the first to agree with me.”

It made your lips quiver painfully as you glanced down, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a martyr, but I would do anything to get her back Jungkook,” Your throat strained painfully “Anything.”

Jungkook kept having these impulses every time he looked at you when you were sad, and he hadn’t noticed it until today, but finally, he caved into the feeling of just wanting to hold you. 

His arms wrapped around you, letting your head bury into the crook of his neck, your body relaxing into him as he pressed a kiss against your head making your arms squeeze around him tighter, “I know.”

You were already scared and upset with the whole situation, you didn’t want things to be worse if you and Jungkook couldn’t settle your own arguments in the process. 

You had hoped maybe a good night of rest would make you feel better, but opening your eyes had only made you feel worse and Jungkook had taken a bit more of a gentle approach today at trying to get you out of bed. 

“We’ll need to speak with Taehyung before the morning is over.” Jungkook laid beside you as you tugged the blanket back over your head, rolling your back to him, “He’ll be busy tending to whatever the Seers do during the day. Y/n,” He sighed in exasperation, “I don’t mean to sound like a cunt when I say this but sulking is not going to help. And refusing to talk isn’t helping me.” 

Your hands curled around the blanket as you relented with a sigh, “I just…feel overwhelmed by everything, life has to continue on even if Wheein is in the dungeon and even if Di Jin keeps harassing the castle.” 

You turned back to face him, “It’s not that I don’t want to do something about it, it’s that I have so many other things I don’t want to do that I have to do, that so many people are counting on me making sure I get it done. It’s hard to be enthusiastic about starting the day knowing I can’t dedicate all of my time to finding a way to help Wheein.” 

“There’s only so much you can do about that situation regardless princess,” Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest as he buried into the crook of your neck, “I’ll make sure everything goes accordingly with Wheein.” 

You still let out a sigh, curling a little at his hand dragging from your waist down to your thigh as he whispered in your ear, “You wanna know what will make you feel better princess?” 

“What?” You mumbled, your curiosity peaked at his tone. 

“An orgasm.” 

“Jungkook!” You immediately sat up right as you twisted around at the cheeky grin on his face, “This is what you want to focus on when we’re in a situation like this!?” 

Jungkook shrugged, “Well I don’t see anything wrong with it, as you said before, life has to continue on and I’m being honest,” He sat up with you, “The first step to getting anything done is letting yourself relax, this is stressful enough as it is, you shouldn’t make yourself anymore taxed then necessary.” 

His lips attached to your exposed shoulder, your thin slip that you seemed to wear more often to bed these days didn’t do you much service as the thin strap fell off your shoulder. He moaned softly into your skin as his hands slid to your waist, “Let me make you feel good. Consider it another apology for last night if you must.” 

You felt obligated to say no, feeling guilty for even feeling desire at the moment when you were in such a perilous situation, but your head betrayed you, slowly tilted upward to expose your neck as his kiss traveled up, leaving a small trail of love bites along the way. 

“Is it…really okay to do this?” You whispered. 

“Only if you’re comfortable.” Jungkook pressed a small kiss on the lobe of your ear, “We don’t have too, but I do think it would make you feel better.” You glared at him playfully as he winked. 

You shifted a little before you sighed, “Well, what would you have us do?” You shifted a little nervously, there would never be a perfect time to get further intimate with Jungkook, and you would admit, something to take your mind off of things would do you some good, even if for a few minutes. 

Jungkook sat up before letting his back rest against the headboard as he gestured you closer, confused you scooted a little closer to him only for his hands to attach to your hips making you squeak in surprise at the way you were suddenly jostled. 

You were roughly manhandled into his lap with your back pressed into his chest once more as he pressed another tender kiss to your neck, “Tell me Y/n, have you ever touched yourself before?” 

The question caught you off guard making you sputter, “I- what?” You could hardly focus at the sight of his hands resting on top of your thighs, how could you be married to him for nearly nine months and only just now realize how big his hands were. 

His fingers were long and thick and his palms were rough and calloused against your soft skin, his fingers curled around your inner thighs, “Have you played with yourself before,” Jungkook let a wicked smirk curl on his lips, “You can’t tell me you haven’t ever been curious about your body.” 

Had it always been this warm in the room? Because it felt like you were burning up at the moment, “I mean yes but- I wouldn’t…Call it playing.” You tried to not squirm in his hold as he suddenly parted your legs, your night slip hardly covering your panties. 

You had been curious about your body in the past sure but you had never really understood the idea of sexual interest, and therefore you never took part in it, not understanding what the big deal was about. 

Jungkook let out a hum as he let his hand stroke from your inner thigh that had you twitching, to your night slip hooking a finger against the fabric as he lifted it, it didn’t take but a small movement to reveal your panties, a shameful damp spot revealing how much your body was receiving him. 

“You like this?” He teased lightly, a hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing lightly making a breathy noise escaping you and your legs instinctively parted further for him, “You like putting your cunt on display for me?” 

“Jungkook…” You had to shut your eyes at the lewd sight, your shoulders scrunching in embarrassment, why did he have to be so crass?

“Take your panties off.” Jungkook’s voice a few tones deeper and a little raspier than normal as his grip on your throat tightened making a more strained moan escape you shook your head, “No?” He snorted at your defiance, his free hand stroking your thigh down to your cunt making you jump before he cupped it, his palm digging into your clit making you whine out sharply. 

Your hips lifted immediately, trying to grind into his hand unsuccessfully. 

“If you want me to play with this pretty clit you have to take the panties off sweetheart,” Jungkook said, amused at the sight. 

“Jungkook, this is embarrassing!” You whined quietly to him, “What if somebody were to walk in right now?” 

“Let them.” He scoffed, “See if I give a damn who watches. In fact I hope somebody does,” Jungkook’s grip suddenly tightened on your throat making you wheeze a heady moan as he growled in your ear, “So they can see who you belong to. I wasn’t lying when I said this was my cunt, so take off the fuckin’ panties and show me who it belongs too.” 

The sudden guttural demand in his voice had you scrambling to obey as you shaky fingers curled around your panties, peeling them off before you awkwardly kept your legs closed. This however changed quickly at Jungkook’s hands, once more finding their way to your thighs as he pried them out making you whimper out at the cold air seeping against your cunt. 

“Fuuck.” Jungkook moaned against your skin and you could feel his heavy, thick cock harden against your lower back, “Your soaked baby. Look.” He didn’t give you a choice as he grabbed you by a thick chunk of hair making you whine as he forced you to look down. 

Your face felt like it was on fire at the sight of your body contorted in such a lewd position, your cunt was indeed on display and for a brief moment you couldn’t think of something more unsightly than this. 

This was what men were attracted to? Your lips were puffy and parted covered in stickiness, pubic hair sticking out unfrayed and your clit was engorged, throbbing at just the fact you were actually able to look at it.

Jungkook’s lips pressed in your neck with another moan, “Fuck princess, you have such a pretty cunt, and nobody has ever played with it at all?”

“No,” You whined out, “I already told you Jungkook, I’ve never been with someone intimately, at least for myself. Do you have to..stare?” You felt self conscious on display like this. 

“When it looks good enough to eat how can I not?” Jungkook scoffed, his free hand unable to resist the urge to drag along your sticky slit, your cunt puffy and wet as his fingers reached your clit.

A moan suddenly strangled through your parted lips, whining softly at watching his digits circle your clit as your hips buckled into him with another whimper as he moaned, “Fuck baby, you’ve never touched your clit?” He said it as if he was genuinely in confusion at how you possibly couldn’t have touched yourself before.

“I have,” You whimpered out, “It just didn’t feel good.” It didn’t feel like this, that was for damn sure, just watching his fingers skillfully glide over your clit at your back trying to arch, before they quickly started rubbing back and forth, playing with your clit like it was a little toy.

Jungkook switched from that to suddenly squeezing it between his pointer finger and middle finger, making another raspy, desperate noise escape your hips started to lift up to chase after the friction, “Jungkook please! Please don’t tease me.” You whimpered out desperately. 

Jungkook chuckled at this, releasing your clit from his fingers just to pinch it once more with his thumb and pointer finger, “You’re so needy, every time I try something new you moan even louder.” 

He pinched it even harder making you yelp at the painful pleasure that washed over you before he roughly circled it again, “Keep moaning sweetheart, it lets me know what you like and what you don’t.” 

That's when you realized he meant what he was saying, his eyes were low but inquisitive, as if trying to figure out what made you tick, what made your body squirm the hardest, what made you moan the loudest, your body was a map he was determined to not only study but memorize. 

Your hand frantically found his as you whimpered, “Right there! Kook, right there! Please.” The pleasure had your muscles clenching as the pad of his finger kept rubbing that sweet spot on the side of your clit that had your back arching and whines becoming increasingly loud. 

Jungkook chuckled in your ear, “Look at you, using my hand to make yourself cum, that’s a little greedy for a Eunoian. Are you gonna cum princess?” 

He watched, mesmerized by the way your body contorted and bounced as you grinded against his fingers, which were completely soaked in your arousal as he feathered his pad over your sweet spot. 

The straps to your slip had finally fallen to your shoulders, causing your top to finally slip down, making your tits fall out as you fell apart on his fingers, your eyes squeezing shut and your body convulsing at the pleasure that was blossoming so quickly in your cunt. 

“Cum baby, I know you want to.” Jungkook teased, “I know that little clit feels good, let yourself cum princess.” 

Jungkook let out a grunt at the sight of your lips falling slack, moans suddenly ripping from your throat as you whines became high pitched, hands suddenly clawing at his neck, yanking at his hair as you came. 

“Mmm what a good girl.” Jungkook moaned into your neck, his cock throbbing so hard he felt like he could pass out, it was one thing to imagine these types of moments with you, but to actually be able to experience them was a different kind of pleasure he didn’t even know could exist. 

Your mind was so hazy from your orgasm you hardly noticed his fingers stroking your cunt before a single digit circled your entrance, playing with it a little as Jungkook carefully coated his finger in your arousal before he pushed in it. 

“Ow!” You suddenly yelped in a very unsexy way, jolting up right and out of your hazy post orgasm feeling as you whimpered out at the sight, “Jungkook! Ah…! It hurts!” You whined in complaint, his finger felt foreign inside of you and just like you knew, it was thick and bigger then your own and the stretch made your cunt dully ache. 

“Wow, so Seokjin really never touched you?” Junkook said it as if he was examining to see if you were actually telling the truth. 

You lip curled as you snapped, “Did we not establish that I was a virgin on our wedding night? Why are you so hyperfixated on this?” 

“Because,” Jungkook rested his chin on your shoulder, pulling his finger from your cunt making you sigh in relief as he dragged it back up to your clit, tapping it, “The idea of anyone- let alone him getting to see this makes me want to travel all the way to Kimhae and fucking kill him.” 

He pushed his finger back in but much to your surprise it didn’t hurt, you seemed almost taken aback by this, watching in morbid fascination as his thick finger sunk deeper into your cunt, your legs parting a little further for him. 

You moaned quietly at his finger testingly pushing up before he thrusted it a little inside you making you whine as your hips lifted and lowered a little to chase the feeling. 

“Just the idea of him getting to see this pretty little fucked out face makes me livid,” Jungkook whispered, unable to even be angry at the moment before of the expression your wore, your pupils were blown out and your lips parted at the sight of his finger now rhythmically pumping into you before he pushed a second one in.

It made you wince at the uncomfortable fit, before Jungkook pulled both fingers out and pushed them back in making your lips tremble at watching them sink deeper and deeper into your cunt, your walls clenching around him as he buried them both until his knuckle were flush against your skin.

“Fuck…” You whimpered out, closing your eyes at the overwhelm of being able to feel his fingers so deep inside your cunt, Jungkook, “‘s not fair, wanna make you feel good too…” 

“Sweetheart, shit, you are so fucked out on my fingers, imagine what it’s gonna be like when you’re taking my cock.” Jungkook moaned in your ear, feeling your walls wrap tight around his fingers at his words as he pumped them in a little rougher, making a point to rub his fingertips against the top of your walls.

It felt as if he was searching for something and you didn’t realize what it was until you felt it, his fingers pushing particularly deep this time, hooking as pleasure suddenly shot through your body making you lurch and a loud moan rip from your lips. 

“Fuck there it is, that’s it sweetheat.” Jungkook’s fingers viciously began to attack this spot, rapidly lifting into the spot as his thrusts began short and rough. 

The pleasure had you contorting in painful positions as you whined slurred words out, “Wanna make you feel good too, Kook! Please, please!” 

“Dammit sweetheart, this is supposed to be about you.” Jungkook growled in frustration at how hard his cock was because you kept moaning about this. 

“Wan’ it.” You whined out moaning loudly, his fingers unforgivingly hooking into that spot roughly, you could feel his other arm against your back maneuvering in awkward ways and though you were very pleasured it was difficult to not notice. 

You didn’t understand what he was doing until you saw it, or more like it saw you. His cock suddenly appeared just inches below your cunt, it bobbed a little, smacking against you making you jolt in shock, even with pleasure still blossoming in your body your mouth dried. 

It was so…big

You had felt it before but you had never seen it, and it was so thick and fat, just like his hand, his cock had the prettiest thick vein and it curved just slightly, his head was fat and bulbous, a painful shade of red showing just how hard he had been this whole time and precum kept dribbling from his slit. 

“You wanted it that fuckin’ bad.” Jungkook grabbed your hand before, guiding it past your cunt to wrap around his cock, “Wanna’ feel that wet little cunt.” He guided your hand to give it a few tugs, before he lowered your body a little, your cunt pressing against the top base of his cock, making you let out a breathy moan. 

His fingers started properly thrusting into you once again as you body twitched, eyes nearly rolling back into your head at the stimulation of the feeling of his fat cock being covered in your arousal, your hand giving sloppy, frantic tugs against his cock making him moan into your shoulder.

Your hips quickly start trying to rut into his as you grabbed his hand, forcing his fingers out of your cunt as you rubbed it against his shaft, letting your clit press against it with a loud whine, reaching down to squeeze his fat balls. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck baby, ‘m gonna cum.” Jungkook moaned into your neck as his hips started to rut into you, his eyes hazily watching his cock slide between your glossy lips, arousal messily covering his cock as his tip roughly dragged over your clit making slurred moans escape you. 

“Wan’ you to cum.” You mewled out watching in desperation at the idea of this being inside of you, how would you even be able to take it without being torn in half? His fat tip reached your belly button. 

Your hand wrapped around his cock, holding it against your cunt as Jungkook’s hips became more frantic, “Gonna fuckin’ cum all over you if you keep saying that sweetheart.”

“Cum! Cum, cum please! Wan’ you to cum all over my cunt.” You whined and begged at the sight of precum dripping from his tip.

Jungkook swore out with a growl, his hands digging into your hips, “Bet you wish this was your cunt right now I was fucking, this little cunt is so tiny I don’t even think you could take half of my cock sweetheart.” 

“Kook!” You whimpered out at his forceful, frantic thrusts, one hand lifting your leg up further as his fat tip rubbed past your clit once more. 

“Oh don’t worry baby, I’ll fuck you in this exact position.” Jungkook smirked wickedly against your neck, “I’ll make you watch every fuckin’ second of it too. Fuck princess,” He moaned his hips began to slow, eager to drag out the last moments before he’d finally cave, his cock sliding through your lips once more, he could feel your engorged little bud as he bulbous tip rubbed against it making you whine before let out a deep moan. 

Cum spewed from his tip as your mouth dried at the sight, his thrusts stopped in nirvana but your hand kept tugging his cock in awe, wanting every last drop he had to offer as he moaned wetly against your skin. 

His thighs clenched as he moaned, “Fuck princess, that’s it, yeah fuck, just like that.” He moaned encouragingly in your ear as you stroked his shaft, causing another gob of cum to spill from his tip, this time dribbling down onto your stomach as you reached down further to play with his fat soft balls while using your other hand to tug at his base.

“Fuuck baby.” He moaned into your skin his cock trying to soften but he showed now signs of stopping you despite the increased sensitivity before a spurt of cum shot out before he started swearing out, biting his lip as the pain and pleasure heightened. 

Jungkook let out a breathy moan at the pain of your hand wrapping around his cock, roughly thrusting as he jolted and jumped but at no point did he stop you, in fact he seemed to enjoy the pain and just like magic, you watched his cock start to harden again.

Growing just as monstrous as it was before.

You moaned raggedly before you shifted a little, setting yourself upright before dragging your cunt along his shaft, your hips dragging against it with a loud moan as Jungkook growled out, “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum again baby, relax.”  

You let out a breathy giggle, collapsing your back against his chest as you spread your legs once more, resuming your original position as you pressed his cock back against your cunt, pumping it rapidly, his muscles twitched rapidly before his hips caved. 

Roughly thrusting up into you again as his cock slid between your cunt once more before cum suddenly spurted once more, covering your already messy stomach in even more cum as you moaned, gently tugging his cock to coax more cum, it dribbled and leaked, not nearly as big of a load this time as Jungkook moaned his hips swiveling to prolong his orgasm. 

His cock began to soften and his hand suddenly grabbed your wrist to stop from trying to get it up again, “This was supposed to be about you,” Despite his post orgasm haze he still growled in displeasure, “Fucking brat.” 

One moment his hand was wrapped around your wrist, the next it had released it and shoved two fingers inside you, suddenly fucking you hard and fast making you whine out loud, his thumb somehow managing to rub into your clit causing your back to arch and a loud moan to escape. 

“Yeah? Doesn’t fuckin’ feel good after the first one.” Jungkook taunted you as he roughly thrusted his fingers inside you, his thumb teasingly circling your sensitive clit as your thighs twitched, your eyes glued to the way he was buried knuckles deep into your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, kook, ah…! Ah.” Your whines were getting louder and louder much to his delight, your walls getting tighter and tighter each time his fingertips jammed into your g-spot and his thumb found that sweet little spot on your clit with each pass. 

“Doesn’t feel nice cumming so fast does it?” He growled out, “Go, cum like you made me. Get it everywhere. Can feel this little cunt squeezing around me, you gonna squirt all over the bed? Bet you don’t even fuckin’ know what that is babydoll.” 

The pleasure was becoming so strong it started to become uncomfortable in your cunt, your walls suddenly began to rapidly relax and squeeze at each of his fingers thrusts, his fingertips rubbing into your g-spot and his thumb dragging over your clit.

“Feels weird! Kook’ ah..! You whimpered out, body frantically contorting and your cunt blossoming in a weird pleasure. 

“I got you sweetheart,” Jungkook moaned in your ear, “‘s gonna feel so good princess, c’mon ‘s gonna feel so fuckin’ good.” 

You rapidly shook your head, your walls rapidly clenching and your muscles spasming as Jungkook’s thrusts became short and rough, his thumb rubbing rough circles into your abused clit, “Cum.”

The single word made a scream rip from your throat, tears tricking down your face as you came, liquid suddenly spewed from your tiny hole as Jungkook moaned, “Good girl, fuck, get it everywhere baby, fuck yeah, that’s it.” 

The pleasure was so intense you were in tears, sobbing out moans as his fingers pulling out of you, to rub your clit making you throw your head back against him before his fingers shoved back inside you rapidly thrusting making more liquid spew from your hole as your body convulsed, “F-fuck!” You cried out loud. 

You were positive you blacked out for one blissful moment before Jungkook released his fingers from you with a long moan, his hands comfortingly rubbing down your waist. 

“Fuck princess,” He kissed your neck with feathery kisses, “My good girl did so good. Good girl.” Your eyes felt heavy at the feeling of his kiss. 

Just his words drew a whine from you, his hands coaxingly rubbing your thighs as he pressed a wet kiss against your neck, “Mm, we need to get dressed.” 

“You can’t just do this to me and then leave me.” You whimpered out, grabbing hands to wrap them back around you once more. 

Jungkook snorted at this, another kiss traveling further up your neck, “We’ll be leaving together in case you forgot.” 

“I don’t think I can walk.” 

“You are, without a doubt, the most stubborn women I’ve ever met.” Jungkook mused, “And possibly more than I ever bargained for.” 

You could indeed walk, though a bit awkward at first while Jungkook helped you dress, it didn’t surpass your eyes, the tug on his lips in amusement with every wobble or need to grab his shoulder to stabilize yourself. 

If this was the aftermath of him only using his fingers, you can’t possibly imagine when he…Just the thought made you suck in a deep breath. Jungkook eyes flickered to your form, your arm hooked around his as you both made your way through the castle. 

“Have you noticed?” He asked, eyes lingering on you only for a moment longer before looking ahead once more. 

You could only assume he was insinuating at everyone’s stares and whispers.

“It’s rather difficult to not.” You muttered.

After exiting the courtyard and passing through the meadow to the entrance of the forest, only after you passed through the tall oak tree’s, did you feel you could breath. The sound of birds trilling and the sun lazily peaking through the naked branches gave you a sense of peace you had nearly forgotten about it.

Leaves crunched beneath your feet as your eyes wandered over the vastness of the forest that seemed to stretch on and on, now that the tree’s were naked it seemed the forest was so much more barren than before. 

“Does it look like this? In Eunoia?” Jungkook asked, noting your gaze that seemed to wander. 

“Somewhat,” You admitted, “Winters are mild at best in Eunoia- at least in comparison to Penumbra. The most we get is a bit of a frost on the coldest days, just enough for leaves to fall- not all though. Many still stand their ground.” 

“Frost on the coldest days?” Jungkook’s head snapped to look at you as if you said something bizarre.

This caused a reluctant smile to tug on your lips as you curled your arm around his further, “Yes, some have called Eunoia the capital of the Sun. Our days are always sunny and warm, we’ve never known a true winter.”

“I can tell,” Jungkook replied, his eyes drifted from yours to your attire, “Is that why you’re dressed like it’s already snowed?” 

You looked down at the thick warm sleeves of your dress,they were dramatically long, going far past your hands though a slit made it easy to use your hands if needed, the color a deep maroon that could be mistaken for black if one didn’t pay attention.

“There was frost on the ground this morning.” You replied, a huff escaping your lips, “I suppose the odd looks the servants gave me when I requested my winter wardrobe make sense now.” 

You were too embarrassed to admit you were still cold, even in a winter gown, your dress even collared around your neck, making you feel admittedly strangled but any warmth was welcomed. 

“How will you survive winter here if you can’t make it past the first brisk frost without one of the thickest gowns in your wardrobe?” Jungkook mused, making you glare at him, a pout sporting on your lips. 

“Thickest gowns? This?” You gestured to yourself making him chuckle as he shook his head, “Well that simply won’t do at all, I’ll go to the seamstress myself if I must, I may be married into Jeon royalty but I don’t carry your northern blood.” The pout was still prominent on your lips, “Your brisk day is one of Eunoia’s coldest days, need I reiterate?” 

Jungkook shook his head but the smallest of smiles tugged on his lips, “As if you didn’t have enough gowns as it was, I’ll be sure to let the seamstress make your request known.” 

“Well you’re the one that handles my wardrobe,” Your pupils narrowed, “Now that I think about it, why shouldn’t I be the one in control of it? After all, I am the one wearing them.” 

“Because i’d like to think in someways-” You gasped at suddenly being pushed against the thick, tall oak that stood proud, “You enjoy giving me control.” Jungkook’s hand snaked around your head, grabbing a fist full of hair as he gave it a small yank, “If your display this morning was anything to go by.” 

“Jungkook.” 

It was not your voice who said his name however, within a second Jungkook had let you go, the air around you both sobering by the second as Jungkook looked over his shoulder, “Taehyung.” He nodded, a frown setting on his lips as you somewhat flusteredly brushed off your dress.

Just seeing the look on Taehyung’s face made a tidal wave of guilt wash over you. How could you stand here and act like a girl with a crush when someone’s life was at stake?

You peered from behind Jungkook and one look was all it took for the sickening feeling to rush back into your stomach once more, Taehyung looked vehement, his eyes tired and anger evident if his icy glare was anything to go by. 

“Have you both come to celebrate? Now that you’ve finally captured the assassin.” Taehyung’s lip twitched as his eyes burned into you. 

“Celebrate?” You echoed in hurt, immediately stepping past Jungkook, “Taehyung I would never celebrate this! We are doing everything in our power to get her back I-” 

“Well you were the one who let her go to begin with,” He hissed out lowly, his glowering from his hooded figure, “How am I to know that maybe this wasn’t just a calculated tactic?”

You felt your throat dry at his words, it was one thing to handle Jungkook when he was being unfair to you, but how would you deal with another? Let alone one of the first of Penumbra’s kin to show you kindness. 

“Calculated tactic?” The hurt in your voice was evident, making Taehyung’s nostrils flair. 

“Yes, after all rumors of you-”

“Enough.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the air like ice, an arm wrapped around you pulling you closer to his side, “We’ve come in grief and sobriety to apologize this is happening and that we are going to get Wheein back. I understand you’re upset, within reason to be,” 

Jungkook’s pupils narrowed as his voice grew as cold as the chilled wind that blew by, “But heed your words to my wife and your future Queen.” 

You were too stunned to even speak, hurt still expressed on your face at the insinuation that you had purposely done this to her, you would never! 

Taehyung’s lip twitched, “Is that a threat, Your Highness?” 

“My words are plain,” Jungkook replied, his eyes cutting low, “Take them as they are, we’ll leave you to be.”

“That would be for the best.” Taehyung’s hood lowered if only a little, those gray eyes glaring into you and even when you walked away from him you could feel his gaze burning into your back. 

To say you were horrified, was an understatement. 

While Jungkook did not wish to depart with you he had reluctantly done so, but not before trying to ease your distraught at Taehyung’s words, what was he going to say if Jungkook had let him finish? 

It made you anxiously pick at your nails, hardly able to even focus on your book as you heard a voice clear making you glance up. Namjoon gave a small bow and a sad smile, “How have your studies been coming along Princess?” 

“Terribly,” You admitted with a sigh, “How do you not let something consume you Namjoon?” 

It was a rhetorical question you had been asking yourself all day as you stared up at the ceiling, murals of battles painted in glorious displays, ones you had seen while walking in but had never paid attention to until now. 

“I think,” Namjoon paused as if to gather his thoughts, “Love is a worthy contender to be consumed by.” 

This made your gaze shoot back down at him as you cocked your head to the side as he smiled wryly, “Apologies, I enjoy a good tragedy every now and then. Love can consume, but it can also save, you should honor your emotions where they’re at. These are unprecedented times.” 

“That is a particular choice of words.” You mumbled staring down at your book but no matter how hard you tried, words were simply words, not a sentence nor a passage that gave your mind any relief to its occupied thoughts. 

“They are, but it’s the truth,” Namjoon frowned as he looked away, “Princess…” He paused as if debating his words, “Many things are afoot right now, the expansion on the East has officially been put on hold, the west is stirring with restlessness, and now Di Jin has been enlisted to reopen a fresh wound of Mabon.”

“What is it you are trying to say Namjoon.” You sighed as you looked up at him, you wished everyone would stop speaking to you in riddles, why was it you could not hear Taehyung’s full words? Even if they were hurtful, you had the right to know. 

“I am saying…that though we may not fully understand why these things are happening, to be prepared Princess.” Namjoon gave you one last smile before he stood up and gave you a small bow before departing. 

You sank further into your seat as you let out a small sigh, “Fucking hell.” 

“That kind of language is not befitting of a Princess.” 

You jumped upright in your seat once more at the voice that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, your eyes darted to your right where the beautiful- yet ugly sight of the Rosewood Knight Claudin appeared from. 

“Are you here to just mock me?” Your voice grew cold as your eyes glared at him, time may have moved forward but his attempted assault on you and siding with Seohyun was not easily forgotten. 

This made a thin, snake like smile tug on Claudin’s lips, “Anything but, Your Highness.” 

Your hands slowly curled into fists as your patience wore thin, you had been known by your family to have a temper your whole life- this was without a doubt true, but to consider violence? This was a first, and right now Claudin’s face was looking more and more like a punching bag each time he spoke. 

“You’re tired of everyone speaking to you in riddles? Isn’t that right?” Claudin strolled closer to you making you frown but did not speak further. He paused for a moment only to smile once more, your curiosity was piqued. 

“Then let me speak plainly to you Princess,” He kneeled down in front of you, “Penumbra’s trust in you is failing, immensely with each passing day. They no longer trust you. Dare I say some never did.”

It was an ugly truth that made you want to vehemently deny it, “What have I done to warrant this!? I have done nothing but try my best to become a Penumbrian.”

“I know Princess,” Claudin’s voice is oddly soft, as if laments for you, “But it is not what you’ve done, it is what Eunoia has done.” 

“...What of my homeland?” You frowned, your gaze weary and catious, could you truly trust anything that came from this man’s mouth?

Jungkook hadn’t mentioned anything about Eunoia to you. 

Claudin frowned at this, “I thought you would’ve heard Princess…” He paused for a moment as if gauging your reaction, “Eunoia has enlisted their kingdoms people into fortifying an army with Kimhae.” 

“Eunoia would never-”

“I am merely telling you what’s been running rampant on the streets,” Claudin replied calmly, still kneeled at your feet, “Telling you what nobody else dare does, you want plain words, here they are. It’s come across to Penumbra, that Eunoia is conspiring with Kimhae. Why else would they need an army?” 

“What source did you get this from?” Your lip twitched in anger. 

“Source?” Claudin smiled in humor, “This is common knowledge Princess. Or has the Prince just really kept you this in the dark? And from your own kin at that...” 

You don’t even know what possessed you in the moment but your temper had finally gotten the best of you, slapping him right across the face, “Enough! I won’t listen to any more of these lies of your weaving,” You stood up, towering over him as you glowered, “I don’t know what game you’re playing Rosewood, but it’s going to get you killed.” 

“But these are not lies Princess,” Claudin gritted his teeth, his hand grabbing your wrist making you try to yank away, “If you do not believe me, then perhaps you should go out into the streets yourself. Learn the truth nobody else in this castle will tell you.” 

You only managed to escape his grip from wringing your hand from the silk black glove you wore. The material still in his hand as you briskly walked out of the room. 

What did he know anyways? Eunoia, conscripting an army? Only the coldest day in hell would see that through. 

Even long into the night you still laid awake, mind restless as you shuffled in bed, laying down as you glanced at the dark hair of your husband who had been exhausted from the day, soundlessly sleeping beside you. 

His hair was darker then you remembered upon first meeting him and it was a fair bit longer too, now brushing over his lids as he slept, moving a little as if discontented, his hands extended out in reach of something. 

Your eyes stared at his hand, only an inch away from where it had been resting on your waist previously before you had shifted for a little space to move about without disturbing him. 

Just because you couldn't sleep didn’t mean he didn’t deserve too. 

Had he really been withholding information about Eunoia from you? You had been aware from the beginning that being in the castle kept you isolated to a certain degree, and that you would slowly become out of the loop of politics of the outside world due to being an outsider and Jungkook’s wife. 

But you…something swelled in your chest, there was no denying you and Jungkook had grown close over these last few months, if you both sharing a bed willingly every night was any assumption to go on. 

So surely he would’ve told you this information had he known it, and he would have to know this, because he was the Crowned Prince, heir to the throne, which meant, Claudin was surely lying. 

Yes, Claudin was simply lying to get under your skin and weasel his way to further his agenda, whatever that was. 

You closed your eyes contented, intending to shuffle a little closer to Jungkook once more, who’s brows were pinched, still in a sign of discontentment. 

‘Meet me in the Fool’s Barrel at past 2 if you seek the truth’ 

Your eyes snapped back open at the memory of the single sentence left on a piece of parchment at your nightstand earlier before you finally got up, quietly standing before you glanced back at Jungkook, the night was long after all, and surely he wouldn’t miss you in the time you’d be gone. 

With that you shuffled through your wardrobe for something suitable for the occasion before going over to Jungkook’s side of the bed, grabbing the sheathed knife from his stand before pressing a gentle kiss atop of his head. 

The parchment was rolled tightly in your grip and your dull brown hood was pulled low as you managed to sneak out during the guards rotation and Yoongi was talking with a fellow guard at the corner of the corridor.

The halls were dark and dim and just as this morning you felt stifled here, at the gates of the courtyard did you finally consider that this was reckless, if not entirely stupid.

Did it truly matter whether you knew or not? 

Your hand nearly crumpled the paper in anger, it did matter to you, it was your right to know what people thought of you, good or bad, and nobody had the right to keep that from you.

Your hand ghosted over the dagger strapped to your waist before you fixed your hood once more stepping outside the gate. 

The tavern was lively and bustling, unshocking for this hour, nobody paid you any mind with your hood as low as it was, unsuspecting that they were amidst their princess, searching through the tavern, the very same one you had made a total fool of yourself in earlier in the year, you found the person you were looking for. 

Claudin was leaned against one of the wooden beams, a hood on himself and a cat like smirk coiling on his lips as he held up your missing glove, “Here to take my offer Princess?” 

You snatched it from his hand, “If you so much as even put a hand on me, I will slit your throat.” You whispered to him.

This made him chuckle as if amused, “So the Eunoian bitch really does have a temper to match the title. Follow me Princess.” 

The Eunoian Bitch.

You weren’t that familiar with the title until you had come to Penumbra and your husband had made you well acquainted with it, and though you never inquired further about it to Wheein it wasn’t difficult to tell how the title had come about. 

You wouldn’t deny your temper, Jungkook had gotten to see it in full force when you first married, the title once upon a time insulted you but you had grown past it at this point, you wouldn’t be insulted, it seemed men loved to call you a bitch because you were not a pushover. 

Men were allowed to throw tantrums all the time without the blink of an eye, Dae Seong was living proof of it and yet nobody gave him a title for it.

You had followed behind Claudin closely as he exited through the backside of the tavern and led you down the increasingly narrow halls of the city that you didn’t even think existed, it was as if he was leading you to something of secret. 

And after Claudin had weaved and webbed his way through these increasingly dark and unsettling alleyways did you realize, this was exactly what he was doing, you heard the commotion before you saw it. 

Exiting the alleyway to reveal a well lit area of what looked like a crowded market place, though the stalls could hardly be seen as such. 

Claudin looked up from his hood towards ahead and then at you, “Welcome to the Underside. If you want information, this is where you shall find it.” 

Your eyes had gone wide at all the spectacles as you followed beside Claudin, fixing your hood a little lower as you watched a man breath fire from his mouth and the loud cackling of women before the shouts of a thief that shoved between you both. 

It was clear, you were in the belly of Penumbra’s criminal activity, just the thought made your hand ghost over the wickedly curved dagger strapped to your hip. You had never shed blood other than your own before,  you had taken an oath to never kill when you had first become a healer during the five year war, not only this but as a part of the royal family of Eunoia you had to vow that not only would you never kill but you would never devour as your earlier predecessors once did.

You could hardly stomach the sight of watching someone be killed, let alone killing someone yourself, but Penumbra had a certain way of hardening you these days. After all, you did just threaten to slice Claudin’s neck open if he tried anything on you. 

This was unsafe, and surely reckless, but you wanted answers and you wouldn’t back out now to get them. Claudin seemed delighted by the sternness in your expression, refusing to back away from the danger of this perilous situation as he guided you through the rowdy streets. 

Rounding the corner there was a crowd ahead making you tilt your head as you glanced at Claudin who only nodded ahead, both of you coming closer to the spectacle that you immediately deduced was a mockery of…you.

Your lip twitched in simmering anger at the mockery dress and hair of a man who’s voice pitched high, annoyingly so as he flounced about with the narrator, vacillating between ditsy and vexing.

“This is how they view you,” Claudin leaned in at your side as the crowd cackled at the man, “A predator dressed as prey, a Eunoian spy, here to cause our downfall.” 

“Now whatever shall our Bitch do!? Attempted murder afoot but wait! What is this between her breasts!” 

Your expression was deadpan as you watched the man grab a scroll from between his fake set of breasts, one even falling out revealing a bundle of cloth making everyone gag, “Ahem!” He coughed out high pitch, unrolling it as he read, “Oh dear husband! It appears my kingdom is on our borders! How could you not have seen? This was my plan all along!”

They placed a crown on his head which warranted boo’s from the crown, “Down with The Eunoian Bitch!” Someone cried from the crowd. 

You shook your head unable to watch any longer as you brushed past Claudin, eyes darting between the various sights on the streets, a group of four men continuously kicking a young boy, the prostitute against the wall with a man, and on the far side a crowd of people cheering as they threw darts and knives at wall, a poor imagine of your face as the target. 

“You’re upset.” Claudin followed after you with a remark.

“Of course I’m upset!” You hissed out, whirling around, “I’m being accused of something I didn’t do! My entire country is being accused of something we didn’t do- haven’t even done! Take me back to the castle.” 

Claudin shifted his foot with exasperation but was cut short with the cold metal pressing into his neck, “I said take me back to the fucking castle, now.”

Claudin held up his hands in a mock of surrender,  “You and your husband share an odd similarity of barbarously threatening me.”

Your lip twitched and your grip on the blade didn’t relent, “Maybe if you weren’t such a cunt that wouldn’t happen to you. Castle. Now.” 

“If you so wish, my Princess.” Claudin resisted no more as you sheath your weapon following stiffly behind him the whole way home. 

A spy…they thought you were a spy sent by Eunoia? You had learned to ignore the slanders thrown your way, but to have your whole kingdom’s credibility question? As if Eunoia didn’t house the fallen kingdom of Seoul? As if Eunoia wasn’t held responsible and damn near torn apart by the continent when Penumbra raised?

It was beyond just an insult, it was treasonness to even think about it. 

The castle was…much busier than when you had left, Claudin departed with you at the gates as you dismissed him, arriving by yourself only to swear at the sight of your knight walking towards you with hell's fury. 

“Where the hell have you been Princess!” Yoongi hissed out, grabbing your arm vehemently, “Do you want the Prince to kill me?” 

“Shit,” You ushered out, “What’s happened?” 

Yoongi gritted his teeth, “You mean to ask what’s going on after you snuck out past hours without telling me or anyone else, let alone your husband, what’s going on?” 

You deserved to be reprimanded, you knew that much but that didn’t mean you wanted to deal with it, you groaned, “Did he call for a search?” 

“Of course he did, Jungkook nearly had my head on a pike when I told him I thought you were with him,” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, “Where were you?” 

“...” You said nothing for a long moment, your expression troubled as you sighed, Jungkook was not supposed to wake up to find you missing, how were you supposed to tell him you went into the depths of a crime ridden area only to discover many ugly truths tonight, ones he had most likely kept hidden from you. 

“Where did you go Princess?” Yoongi ushered, now concerned. 

“I went to the Underside.” 

“Fucking hell!” Yoongi ran a hand through his head again, “Do you know how incredibly stupid that was! Without anyone to protect you!? Penumbra may not be as pious as other kingdoms but rumors still run rampant.” 

“Yes,” Your gaze grew cold, “I’ve become aware as much.” 

Yoongi frowned at this, and you could tell by the look on his face he knew, they all knew, didn’t they? “Come along Princess, let’s get you into the parlor, the others are trying to keep Jungkook from ripping the city apart to find you.” 

You felt a stab of guilt at his words as you followed alongside him into the castle where residents all gawked at you as you kept your hood up, covering your face from their judgmental looks. 

Yoongi weaved his way through the corridors before the doors of the parlor were opened, the first person to whip around being the distraught figure of your husband. 

“Y/n.” 

Your hood was pulled down before he immediately embraced you, his muscles which had been previously tensed had relaxed as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, “You worried me sick,” He chastised you, “Where did you go? You should’ve told Yoongi- better yet taken him with you!” 

Jungkook cupped your cheeks as he pulled you away a little to inspect your face, making sure you were uninjured, “I’m sorry,” You mumbled, lips quivering only a little in both hurt and confusion at everything you were digesting. 

“Where did you go, Y/n?” Jungkook asked you once more, this time his voice was a little more calm, releasing you upon hearing you try to clear your dry throat. 

Walking over to the table where a pitcher of water was, you poured yourself a glass, glancing between your husband to the two other figures in the room, both his aunt and uncle, Areum and Jeong Dae as the least wanted person at this time walked into the room.

“Ah what coincidental timing.” Di Jin had walked in behind you, everybody's eyes staring at him for a long moment, “Because I just received word that the Princess was spotted coming out of the Underside.” 

The room erupted into worse chaos then you could have expected. “My wife would never step foot in that pit you caused.” Jungkook snarled out.

“It’s true.” You muttered, unable to see the two men baring teeth at one another and despite your low tone it caused silence throughout the whole room.

“Out. The lot of you, these are matters for the family only.” Areum’s voice followed after you as her eyes narrowed on both your friends and servants alike and with that everyone departed.

“Feeling honest, are we Princess?” Di Jin looked haughty at you.

“Y/n,” Jungkook’s voice was wrought with anger, though it was obvious he was trying to keep himself calm, “Why?”

It was like the dam you held your anger in snapped out, rushing out and into every vein in your body as you slammed your cup down, “Why don’t we talk about how everyone’s been keeping me in the fucking dark!”

Everyone looked taken aback by your heated glare, “Talks of Eunoia raising an army and sending me as a spy while consorting with Kimhae!?” You spat out glaring at all of your in laws.

And the oddest thing happened, it could’ve been a trick of your eyes, but you could’ve sworn you had seen Jungkook visibly flinch at the words. 

His eyes were like steel as you glared at him.

“And you knew it! Didn’t you?” You pointed an accusing finger at him as he looked away from you.

Di Jin let out a loud laugh bringing your attention to him, “Well let’s be honest here dear, everyone in this room has suspicions of you being a spy.” 

“Stay out of this.” You snapped, “My affairs with my husband are no concern of yours.” 

“Oh but it seems they are.” Di Jin had a sneering smile on his face as he held up the paper he held in his hand.

“Di Jin.” Jungkook’s voice was low in warning.

You snatched the paper from his hand before Jungkook could even stop you walking away from him and closer to the fire, the only noise being the snaps and crackles as everyone looked at you tensed. 

The more you read the tighter your grip became as Di Jin spoke, “Interesting, how even your husband assumed you were a spy? Was it not?” He hummed innocently, “I’ll be watching you very closely from now on girl, lest a case of treason be opened against you.” 

Your eyes only glared down at the paper, Jungkook’s royal emblem no mistake and the date an even harsher blow to your heart as tears of wrath began to blur in your vision, “Leave. Now.” 

Di Jin frowned at this, perhaps hoping for a more expressive reaction from you, as if he was trying to get you to dig yourself a hole, but you would not submit yourself to that, you would not allow him to weave his little web of instigation any further. 

“You heard her Wolf.” Areum frowned deeply, walking to stand in front of him as her eyes burned like coals, “Your duties are done for the evening..” 

“You're welcome.” Di Jin sneered one last smile before exiting. 

The door shut quietly behind him as your lips quivered and your nails nearly torn through the paper, trying to calm your breaths down but truthfully, you were rendered speechless. Everything you had become accustomed to, the delicate, tender blossom that was slowly growing between you and Jungkook felt as if it had been abruptly yanked from the ground and stamped under a boot. 

Jungkook had grown anxious at your expression, you were abhorrently livid, if your body language was anything to go by, “Y/n,” He finally sighed out, “What did you expect me to do? It’s no secret that the court has doubted you from the very moment-”

“This isn’t about the fucking court!” You hissed out, every ounce of self restraint thrown out the window as you marched over to him, “This isn’t about Di Jin, this isn’t about anyone but you! What the fuck is this!?” You cried out shoving the parchment into his chest, pain wrought in your expression, eyes glaring with rage and betrayal, “After everything we’ve been through together!?”

You ran your hands though your hair trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart, tears vehemently stinging your eyes as you shook your head, “I’ve have bared my soul to you, again and again, I- I have tried my best to understand Penumbra, your culture, you. For months! And I…” 

You closed your eyes, letting the defeated tears trickled down your face, “I genuinely believed that you…” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the words that squeezed too tightly in your throat, a sob finally bubbling from your lips, “Why!?” You whimpered out, finally staring at him, “Why did you not tell me about Eunoia? Or the rumors, or…or any of it!” 

It would be one thing if he had this investigated when you had first arrived in Penumbra, but he didn’t, this was recent, too recent. All of your fresh memories with him spiraling in your head, the intimacy you had nervously shared with him.

“Because, what if it was true?” Jungkook’s jaw clenched, “I don’t take any pleasure saying that Y/n! But I needed to be sure that you weren’t playing a game with me.” 

Your lips trembled in disbelief as warm tears dripped down your face, “No I said those words to you!” You pointed an accusing finger at him, “I asked you those same words and you looked me in the eyes and lied to me!”

“I wasn’t lying to you!” Jungkook immediately hissed back, “I’m not in a forgiving position! I needed to know you were on my side for certain and those words I said were not a lie! I don’t expect you to understand, nor do I expect your forgiveness, but I did what I had to do!” 

You stared at him for a long moment in disbelief, tears dripping down your chin as Jungkook sighed, cupping your cheeks as he brushed the tears away, “I’ve meant every word I’ve said to you, and the feelings I have, it’s all real.” He pressed his forehead against yours, “But you can’t expect me to have zero doubts in your credibility, you were going to marry the Prince of the kingdom that took great pleasure in slaughtering my people.”

“That isn’t fair Jungkook!” You tried to bite back your sob, your heart as if it was being torn to shreds, “Everything you’re saying isn’t fair! You know it isn’t!” 

“Life isn’t fair and it isn’t kind Y/n,” Jungkook frowned at the new tears that dripped down your face, “I’m only sorry that I’m the one having to tell you this.” 

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, shoving him away, “Paint it how you want, but it doesn’t change what you did, you choose to not trust me. You choose to have me investigated and you choose to look me in the eyes and tell me this was not a game to you.”

“Y/n-”

“No.” You snapped sharply, looking up at him as your voice trembled softly, “Me and you, we’re done. You’re right, you don’t deserve my forgiveness nor my understanding. The only thing we have left is the fact that we’re both bitches serving the same crown. You are nothing more than a liar Jungkook.”

“You don’t mean that.” Jungkook shook his head, his jaw clenching. 

“I mean every fucking word.” You seethed.

You turned around, shoving the doors open to the room as you shoved the tears from your eyes, everyone had looked at you in baited breath but you only walked over to Yoongi, “Take me to my room. My room, please.” 

Yoongi had parted his lips but said no more, doing as you asked as you shoved the tears from your eyes, trying to pick up the broken pieces of your heart that laid cracked and shattered from Jungkook’s heartless words. 

He really was as wicked as they said he was. 

[vodika-vibes]

hi!! i saw that your requests where open and i wanted to request something for wrecker bc i noticed you don’t have anything for him yet!

i was hoping for a cute fluffy proposal for wrecker x gn reader please?

For Always

Summary: You’ve loved Wrecker since you were a child. Since the day his CT number appeared on your body, written in a messy hand on your collar. Luckily, he’s always felt the same way.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x GN!Reader

Word Count: 948

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: This is technically a soulmate AU. I had an idea and thought it was cute.

You stir awake at the feel of warm lips pressed against your collar, and you mumble something that might have been a name, if you were a little more awake, but just sounded like several letters strung together in a facsimile of a word.

There’s a low chuckle and you blearily blink up at the man half laying over you, “Morning, cyare.” Wrecker murmurs, his voice a low, and pleasant, rumble to your half asleep ears.

You yawn widely and stretch out across the bed, before you reach up to lightly caress his cheek, before your hand falls to his chest, where your name rests right over his heart. “Morning,” You finally reply with a sleepy smile.

He takes your hands in his and threads your fingers together as he leans over you, “Did I wake you?”

“I was already half awake,” You admit as you shimmy on the soft cotton sheets to press yourself as close to him as you can, “You’re up early, handsome.”

“Mm,” Wrecker hums his agreement, before he slowly lowers his head to press his face against your neck, “Have plans for today.” He finally says, his lips warm against your heated skin.

“Oh?” You squeeze his fingers, “Anything interesting?”

“Not really,” He moves his head so that his nose bumps yours, “Omega wanted me to go shopping with her today, and then lunch with my brothers.”

“Sounds fun,” You reply with a small smile.

“Well, Tech’s been in wedding mode since the day Phee asked him to marry her, so lunch is really us helping him hammer out the last details.” Wrecker admits, he presses a feather light kiss against your lips, “What about you?”

“Phee is looking at dresses today, and she wants me along to help. Since I’m stand in for her family.” You lean up to catch his lips in a heated kiss, which makes him sigh against your lips, “We’re also going to finally find an outfit for me today.”

“You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear.” Wrecker says loyally.

You laugh softly, “Phee tends to agree, she’s been thinking about what she wants me to wear, since they’re getting married on the beach.”

Wrecker finally releases one of your hands, but only so he’s able to trail his fingers down your bare arm, “Do you ever think about it?” He asks, his gaze serious.

“About what?”

“Marriage.”

You watch him, slightly surprised, though the surprise fades as you consider his words. “I’d be lying,” You finally say quietly, “if I said I hadn’t. But I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile at him adoringly and press your hand against his cheek, “But I don’t need to be married to be happy with you, Wreck. I’ve loved you since the day your CT number appeared on my skin.” You pause, “Well, after I stopped freaking out about it not being a name.”

Wrecker laughs, like he does every time you mention the story of the day your soul-mark appeared. His grin is broad as he presses his forehead against yours, “I’ve been thinking,” He starts.

“Oh?”

“How would you feel about getting married?” Wrecker asks.

“Like right now?” You ask, your voice hushed.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but all of the ceremony feels a bit...excessive.” He admits, “But that’s Tech and Phee. We don’t need anything quite so big, do we?”

You hum thoughtfully as you consider his words, “I’d like to marry you.” You finally say, “But you’re right. The idea of being the center of attention like what Phee wants sounds like a nightmare.”

Wrecker laughs softly, “So we’ll do something different.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll workshop that with my brothers,” Wrecker admits with a grin. He kisses you one more time, “I actually have a ring.”

You blink at him, “You do?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found it, to be honest.” He says with a shrug, as he sits up and reaches into his bedside table and hands you a little box. You sit up and open the box to look at the ring.

It’s simple, no diamonds or gems on it, but it’s been carefully carved so that it looks like his armor paint is etched into the metal.

You love it.

It’s so...him.

You grin at him, “It’s perfect.” You pull the ring out of the box and ease it on your finger, before you hold your hand out in front of you to examine how it looks on your hand.

Wrecker presses his chin against your shoulder, peering at the ring on your hand thoughtfully, “It looks good on you.” He finally says, his strong arm slides around you and he pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles just under the ring, “And soon you’ll be properly mine.” He murmurs quietly.

“I’m already properly yours Wreck,” You correct him with an adoring smile, “This will just make it legal.” You turn so you’re facing him properly, a bright smile on your face.

And then you yelp as he all but tackles you backwards, his lips hot against yours. A laugh falls from you, swallowed by his eager lips, and he pulls away and grins down at you, “Mine.” Wrecker murmurs, “All mine. Finally.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, tightly, “And you’re all mine.” You agree.

He grins at you and leans in to pepper kisses all across your face, “I don’t have to be anywhere for a couple of hours.” Wrecker practically purrs against your lips, “How about we celebrate our new engagement?”

His lips attach to a point against your neck, and you whine, “Yes...please.”

[cognacandlilac]

To the Depths - Part Five - NSFW

(Pirate!Silco x F!Reader) The Pirate's Waltz

AO3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3.1 - Part 3.2 - Part 4

Rating: Explicit/MDNI Chapter Summary: You struggle with the terms of your punishment even as you begin to win over the crew. For a moment, all is well even though you are technically a prisoner. Will the sea allow a moment of peace? Chapter Tags/Warnings: def a little nsfw but not nearly as much as other parts, nothing that hasn't been in past parts. Not beta'd bc I was too impatient to get the update posted lol *edited on 8/5 to fix mistakes that would have been caught with beta reading. There is a lesson here...*

You flee the cabin immediately without another word. Your entire body hums, rages, cries, and begs for release and you know you will not find it in that room. Something stings and burns in your chest, wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight. You’re reminded of Silco’s sea serpent tattoo but immediately shake the thought away. His body is the last thing you want to think about right now. 

Especially since the ache between your legs only grows with each step. You briefly entertain the idea of finding a dark, shadowy corner of the ship to bring the relief denied you, but that thought flies out of your mind the moment you see the crew standing idle on the deck, their faces all turned toward the short stairwell you’ve just climbed. You freeze on the last step.

Before Silco dragged you back down to the cabin, you’d passionately declared for all to hear that you were the reason they had to spend the night fighting a violent storm and why thick pools of drying blood now stain the deck. No doubt you’ve made an enemy of yourself to every single person staring at you now. 

You could return to the cabin but the thought of being enclosed with Silco is unbearable. You are caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Almost literally. 

Luckily, you aren’t trapped in your frozen state for long. Jinx darts into your field of vision, her eyes wide and frantic. 

“You look awful ,” she says, cupping your face in her dainty hands. The coolness of her skin alerts you to just how scorching your face is. No doubt flushed, too. “I hope he wasn’t too harsh with you.”

Harsh certainly isn’t the word you’d choose to describe what just happened in his cabin. “I received the punishment I deserved for my error,” You say, hoping to avoid bringing up any particulars of that punishment, not when your ass still stung in the shape of his hand. Before Jinx can ask another question, you make your way across the deck to the poor crewmate you tricked. 

“I owe you an apology.” You speak to him with the same grace and dignity you would reserve for a noble. “Tricking you wasn’t just wrong, it was cruel. If I thought for even one minute that things would turn out the way they did, I never would have done it but that does not make it acceptable.” 

You bow your head and sink into a half-curtsy. 

“Please, accept my sincerest apologies.”

The walleyed crewmember says nothing at first. Your cheeks grow red from embarrassment as you try to figure out what you ought to do next. He saves you from your discomfort when he lets out a loud, cawing laugh.

“All those fancy words for me, miss?” He guffaws. “In all me days I never thought a lady would speak so pretty to me.” He throws an arm around you in a friendly, but rough, manner and you straighten up to avoid falling over altogether. “So, am I forgiven?”

“Ya ran a bad scheme and it bit us all in the ass. We’ve all done it,” he assures her. “But it’s nice to know you aren’t too high and mighty to take the consequences.” Relief floods you as the other crewmates circle around. They give you approving nods, though you won’t go as far as to say they look upon you with trust or friendliness. 

“Surely, the Captain requested more than just an apology,” Sevika says with a suspicious glint in her eyes. 

“The apology was my own doing,” you say as you approach her. “His punishment dictates that I am to report to you. I am to clean the deck.” Her eyebrows twitch as the corners of her mouth quiver like she’s trying not to laugh. 

“I wouldn’t trust someone so soft-handed with the care of my deck but if the Captain insists…”

She trails off as she walks away. You realize you are meant to follow and hurry after her. She doesn’t offer anything by way of instruction. She tosses a bucket and a thick bristled brush towards you, which you fail to catch. The items clatter onto the floor. Your cheeks burn when you hear chuckles behind you. “Get to it,” Sevika grunts. You look at the empty bucket, noticing that it’s…well, empty. 

“Where would I find water?” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you realize your mistake. Everyone who heard begins to laugh. 

“I think you can figure that one out on your own, princess,” Sevika smirks before heading below deck. 

Jinx appears at your side, silent as a ghost but with the energy of a toddler who has had nothing but sweets all day. 

“I rigged up a pulley system so you can fill your bucket. I’ll show you.” 

She loops her arm through yours and pulls you across the deck. You fill your bucket with saltwater and approach one of the more gruesome remnants of the morning’s violence. Your stomach heaves as you spot something that might very well be a skull fragment. 

Determined not to look foolish or weak, you get on your knees and scrub. You work diligently and without complaint, even when your arms start to ache and the wood remains stained despite your efforts. 

It isn’t the approval of the crew you want, exactly. But you are going to be trapped on this ship for two weeks. While you aren’t looking to make friends with your captors, you also don’t want to find your throat slit in a moment of anger. 

“How long are you going to keep doing that?” Jinx materializes by your side. Her braids fall into the puddle you’ve created with your scrubbing efforts. She doesn't seem to mind that she might be getting blood in her long hair. 

“Is this a trick question?”

“No.”

You lift your head to find wide blue eyes staring at you with curiosity. 

“I will keep doing this until the deck is clean.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’re never going to remove all the gross stuff with just water. Didn’t you know that?”

“I don’t often find myself in positions where I am scrubbing up gross stuff ,” you reply. “What else am I supposed to use?”

“Did Sevika not tell you?” Her brows knit together in a mix of concern and confusion. 

“Tell me what?”

Jinx studies you for a moment longer before giggling. “Oh, I get it. Sevika’s having a go at you. Don’t worry. Everyone knows you’ll work without kicking up a fuss. I’ll be right back.”

She bounds off, leaving you confused. You take a moment to give your aching arms a break. You are aware of eyes on you, though the crewmates scattered around the deck do a decent job of not staring at you directly. You know this is some kind of test, one you’re determined to pass with flying colors even if the reward is earning the respect of pirates. 

Jinx returns with a small tin. 

“Watch this.” With a grin, she opens the tin to reveal vibrant purple powder. She sprinkles a little over the blood-soaked wood. “Pour a little water on that.”

You do as she instructs. With wide eyes, you watch the water hiss and bubble. It takes on a pale purple hue as it spreads. It eats away at the blood but leaves the wood unblemished. 

“More water,” Jinx instructs. You comply. The bubbles wash away leaving behind smooth, clean wood. 

“What is that?” You ask, eyeing the purple power. 

“We’re still working on a name. I have several ideas but they always get shot down,” she says as she replaces the lid and tucks the tin into one of her many pockets. 

“We?”

“The ship’s doctor. He likes to experiment.”

“This is the same doctor you got that strange drink from before, when I was first brought aboard?” You press. 

“Yup!” Jinx beams. 

“Well, the Captain tore that drink from my hands and threw it overboard before giving me water. What was wrong with it?” You shudder at the thought of drinking a substance that is capable of dissolving blood and chunks of brain matter being served to you in a cup. 

“Nothing!” Jinx raises her hands, palms facing you. “Sometimes it has side effects, but usually it’s completely safe.”

“Usually?” You arch a brow. 

“Sometimes it makes your veins swell and glow and you can occasionally develop abnormal growths on your body,” she explains. “But that’s only if the batch is made wrong or you take way too much.” 

“None of the words coming from your mouth are bringing me comfort.”

“It’s science! It’s all about trial and error,” she shrugs. “If I thought it would hurt you I wouldn’t have given it to you.” 

Despite everything, you believe her. You haven’t seen a hint of malice in her since you were brought aboard. 

“But you still haven’t told me what it is,” you press. 

“It’s…a tool,” she says with thoughtful consideration. “Depending on how we process it, it can do a lot of things. It can be medicine and poison at the same time. It can clean wood with gentle precision but also dissolve bone. A tricky thing, it is. Truly fascinating.” 

“Interesting,” you murmur as your mind wanders to a person who possesses that same versatility. Another tricky thing. 

You see Silco’s face in your mind’s eye but quickly shake his image away. You don’t want to think about the Captain right now. You’re still cross from the way he teased you and denied you. You’re even more cross knowing how much you would have begged for your pleasure had he not chosen to punish you the way he did. “Thank you for the help. Can I have some of that powder to help me clean?”

Jinx almost seems like she’s going to agree but she holds back. “I’ll just stay with you. We can talk and I’ll sprinkle a little whenever you need it.”

“That works for me.” You offer her a warm smile, a genuine one. She smiles back and settles between two crates to keep you company as you clean. ******** Though you finish cleaning the blood and gore from the deck the very day they were spilled, Sevika isn’t shy about giving you extra tasks. She never gives you anything too difficult though you know it’s not out of consideration for you, but for the ship. 

You’ve scrubbed the deck twice a day for three days. When you aren’t scrubbing, you put your sewing skills to use mending sails. The thick material is hard to work with and the needles are little more than scraps of half-rusted metal but you make do. 

With the help of quick hands, fast learning, and the strange purple powder Jinx offers you soon have far too much idle time on your hands. 

You aren’t particularly fond of aimlessly pacing the deck. The Captain’s cabin is always open to you, but you spend as little time there as you can manage.

Despite Captain Silco’s demanding schedule, he always manages to be in the cabin whenever you are. The room is small enough as it is, but when you are in there together, the very air seems to struggle for space. You don’t speak to him. You don’t look at him unless you can help it. Yet, he never misses a chance to brush close to you. You feel his eyes on you, always. Even when you sleep. 

Sharing his bed is a necessity but you keep your limbs tucked close to you and your body curled toward the cabin wall. He never touches you, which brings both relief and unimaginable frustration.

On the third night, you lay wide awake. Your entire body hums with pressure from the release that was denied days ago. The longing never went away but tonight it’s nearly unbearable. 

You listen in the dark. Silco sleeps beside you. His breathing is deep and even. Though there is a soft glow from the ember of his ruined eye, you know he’s asleep. Slowly, very slowly, you shift onto your back. You wear only a borrowed shirt to sleep in. Your legs are left bare and your undergarments never recovered from your unexpected dip in the ocean. Tonight, it’s an advantage. 

With great care, you slowly lift the long hem of your shirt until you feel the skin of your lower belly. You part your legs only an inch or two before letting your hand slowly wander between your legs beneath the shared blankets. 

You listen intently as you move. Silco’s breathing never changes and you keep the rustling of bedsheets to a minimum. 

You find it safe to assume that Silco is a heavy sleeper. Between the winds and rocking of the ship, it would be difficult for a finicky sleeper to find peace here. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. As sound as your logic may be, logic is not what drives you at this moment. 

The sensation of your fingertips against your skin is enough to make you shiver. You freeze, silently admonishing your lack of self-control before making another attempt. You don’t need much. Just a few light, indulgent touches. Just enough to remove the biting edge of desire that has taken up permanent residence in the back of your mind since Silco bent you over his knee. The pad of a single fingertip brushes against that sensitive, soaked bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hard enough to hurt. The pain is necessary if it keeps you from making even the softest of sounds. 

You wait for a moment, listening to Silco’s breathing. When you are certain there is no change, you allow another slow drag of your fingertip. Then another. And another. Pleasure spins through your mind and soothes the needy ache you’ve carried in your core for days. 

Fragmented images from the night of the storm slip through your mind. The memory of Silco’s soft groan when you rode him so slowly sends another ripple of warmth through your body. You can recall the exact sensation of his tongue as he teased your nipples. You can feel the way he throbbed inside of you when you drove each other to maddening releases. 

Yet, somehow, you manage to keep your movements minimal, discrete, and silent. Even as your blood heats up and your heart pounds, you have enough self-control to keep yourself quiet as you relieve your desires. 

An intoxicating sense of smugness adds another layer to your pleasure. Though it was memories of Silco that fueled that pleasure, he remains asleep beside you. Completely oblivious. 

His ability to consistently underestimate you was truly something-

“What do we have here?” His velvet voice slides through the darkness and wraps around you as his hand finds yours. You’re grateful for the pitch blackness of the cabin so he cannot see the redness of your cheeks. Your mind, still caught in the haze of pleasure from your fingertip, struggles to come up with any sort of explanation. 

There is nothing you can say for yourself. You’ve been caught. 

His hand, still covering your hand, moves. He presses down on your fingers, forcing you to tease yourself. You push your hips down into the mattress to avoid the pressure of your own touch. “Oh, now you wish to follow the rules?” He taunts lightly. 

You roll so that your back is to him. You tell yourself that you remain silent because you will not sink so low as to dignify his taunts with a response. Yet, deep in your belly where that spring of desire sits tightly coiled, you know that you cannot trust your own tongue right now. If you open your mouth to slice him with scathing words, there is a chance you’ll simply end up begging for pleasure. 

Hatred blooms within the blush on your cheeks. How dare he toy with you in such a way? How dare you struggle so much to keep yourself in control around him? What happened that night, within the violence of the storm, was about control more than it was about pleasure. 

But now? You have your hand between your legs, sneaking pleasure when you’ve always been able to go without when it suited you. 

He’s made you desperate. 

You remove your hand from between your legs and tuck both arms against your chest. You clamp your thighs together and pray that the sweet ache between them fades soon. 

“If I catch you doing that again, I will not hesitate to bind your hands behind your back.” Silco’s voice comes through the darkness once more before he falls silent. You continue to say nothing. When the sun rises, you dress as quickly as you can and flee the cabin. Silco sits at his desk and you do not even have to look at him to know there is a smug smile on his mouth. Embarrassment and irritation propel you through your daily tasks in record time. It is not yet midday when you find that you have nothing to do. 

The rest of the crew mill about at a comfortable pace. They don’t seem to be in any particular rush. Jinx is nowhere to be found. You assume she’s below decks with the strange doctor you have yet to meet. Disappointment flutters in your chest. As strange as it is, your favorite parts of the past few days were when she would perch near you ask you worked, and ramble on about everything and nothing. She often jumped from topic to topic without rhyme or reason and rarely bothered to make sure you had the proper context to understand anything she said, but you enjoyed listening. She helped you keep your mind busy. 

When your mind is not busy, even for the briefest of moments, your thoughts always turn to Silco. More specifically Silcos’s hands. Or his mouth. Or his voice or his cock or his insufferable personality. Without care, it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in a whirlpool of obsessive, never-ending thoughts about that ridiculous, despicable, revolting pirate bastard. 

Prickles of pure fury ripple over your skin. With a soft snarl of annoyance, you scan the deck for Sevika. You find her near the bow, watching the calm sea. 

“I need something else to do,” you say. 

She initially seems as though she does not hear you, but you’ve come to realize that it’s part of the game she plays. She makes you wait before turning slowly and looking at you as though you’re a piece of flotsam. 

“Mend the sails,” she says. 

“They’re all mended.” Despite their somewhat worn-down appearance, the sails are of remarkable quality. Even after that vicious beast of a storm, little mending was needed. 

“And the deck?”

“As spotless as it can be with all of the wood rot.” 

“And the spare line?”

“In perfect condition. It may as well be coils of silk.” 

“How many pickled eggs are in the barrel?”

“Two-hundred and seventy-three.”

Her thick, dark brows shoot up. “You’re kidding.”

“If you want to double-check, you’re more than welcome but please give me something to do first before I throw myself overboard.” 

Several emotions fight for dominance on Sevika’s stern face. You see flashes of surprise, humor, annoyance, and perhaps a little bit of respect though that might have been a trick of the light. 

“Arlo is doing one of his big cooking hauls today,” Sevika says. “I’m sure he can use an extra set of hands.” 

You had yet to venture below deck to meet the ship’s cook and see the mess deck. Jinx preferred to eat in the open air and had taken it upon herself to bring an extra serving for you at mealtimes. 

You find the meal offerings of the Zaun’s Revenge to be, frankly, repulsive. At first, you assumed it was because your palate was used to Piltover’s fresh vegetables, vibrant spices, and choice cuts of meat. But you’d seen the way others look at their meals with disgust and longing and you knew you weren’t alone in your dislike of the cuisine. 

Of course, could you truly expect to find something tasty aboard a pirate’s ship?

Sevika does not wait for you to answer. She turns away as though you are not there and focuses her gaze on the sea once more. You wonder if she’s looking for something or simply pondering. It’s not hard to imagine that those aboard this ship have had difficult lives filled with strife. You have more than most ever will, despite your losses, and you often need to take a moment to deal with the weight of it all by gazing at a soothing view. It clears the mind. 

You make your way below deck, passing the crammed tables of the mess deck. 

Arlo isn’t difficult to find. The mess deck and the kitchen are one and the same. A heavy-set man covered in a light sheen of sweat frantically tosses…something in a wide pan over a massive flame. The air carries a scent of burnt food and vinegar. Arlo watches the pan as though he believes the contents will jump out and bite him. To be fair, that doesn’t seem impossible. 

“Hello?” You call softly, over the violent sizzle of the ill-fated meal. 

Arlo looks over his shoulder and sets the pan aside, looking relieved to do so before a stern expression overtakes his somewhat doughy features. You can’t help but notice the red tinge to his watery grey eyes, irritated by the fumes of cooking such a creation. 

“No early meals. You should know the rules by now, princess.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I’m not here to beg for food. Sevika suggested you might need an extra hand. She said you were doing some kind of…food haul?” While you understand what each of those words mean separately, you are unsure of the combined meaning of them in this context. 

“Aye?” He sniffs as he brings the corner of his apron up to rub at his eyes. “I like to cook big batches of things all at once and preserve them so it is easy to handle mealtimes. This lot is hard to feed.” 

“Preserve them?” You ask. “You have enough salt for such a task?” 

“Of a sort,” he says. “The good doctor below decks whipped up a preserving powder that works wonders. It tastes like nothing.” 

Arlo jerks his chin towards a bowl sitting on one of the stained, cluttered counters. The bowl is filled with a grainy substance the same vibrant shade of purple as the powder that helped you get blood out of the deck. 

“What is it?” You ask, leaning forward just a little. 

“Beats me,” Arlo shrugs. “It’s not my place to ask questions, especially not when I’m given something helpful for free.” 

“I can understand that,” you nod. “Do you need help with your food haul?” 

“I won’t say no. Can you cook?”

You hesitate for a moment. “No. But if you have a recipe I can look at, I can surely figure it out.” You’ve always been a quick learner. And so many people know how to cook so how hard can it truly be? You doubt whatever concoctions Arlo makes take much skill. 

“I don’t waste my time with recipes.”

“Then how do you cook?” You ask, unsure if you want to know the answer. 

“I do what feels right.”

What feels right often leads to grey foods that are both mushy and crunchy at the same time. 

“Did you study somewhere to become a cook?” Your training in polite conversation rears its head before you can stop it. Of course, he didn’t train anywhere. He’s a bloody pirate. 

“People are trained to be cooks?” He looks at you with utter confusion. 

“They prefer to be called chefs, but yes.”

“Ach,” he waves her off. “I’m no chef and I do not pretend to be. I just do my best to use whatever isn’t rotting or foul to keep the crew fed.”

Well, at least Arlo seems to have some sort of self-awareness. “Were you not able to gather more ingredients when we stopped at Port Fairna?” You ask. You vividly remember plenty of spice sellers and bakers lining the dirt streets. 

“No,” Arlo answers sharply. “I do not mess about with such things.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “You do not manage your own stock?”

“No.” Came another curt reply. The cook avoids your gaze, choosing instead to look at his own hands. 

You decide not to push the matter and instead, turn your attention to the shelves of the well-stocked scullery. Unfortunately, your confusion only deepens. The shelves are lined with rich spices from all over the world that look untouched. You spy garlic, onions, potatoes, carrots, and all manner of staple ingredients labeled and stored with heaps of the purple preservative. 

“What are all of these?” You ask. 

Arlo looks at the shelves you point to but quickly looks away. “Don’t know. Never seen ‘em before. Don’t know how to cook with ‘em so I don’t use them.”

“But it says what they are right on the containers,” you point out. “Surely, you’ve heard of garlic and potatoes even if you’ve never had them. Right?” 

Arlo goes quiet for a moment and you briefly wonder if you’ve made some unforgivable error in an innocent question. “Aye. Yes, I’ve heard of them but I did not know we had them.”

“But they’re labeled. Did you not label them yourself?” He controls the kitchen, does he not?

Arlo’s cheeks turn a patchy red color that is not from the fumes or heat. “No, no I didn’t. I…can’t.”

You stare in confusion before shame and embarrassment creep into your gut. “You do not know how to write?”

“Or read.”

Arlo can’t meet your gaze. He seems frozen in place. Though he is nearly the side of the large, tattooed crewmember that once pulled you from the sea, he looks like a small child. 

“Oh,” you say softly. It’s clearly a point of tenderness for Arlo. You don’t wish to upset him even more. “Well, then this seems like a perfect arrangement.”

He lifts his head and looks at you with a quizzical expression. “What?”

“I can read but I cannot cook. You can cook but cannot read. It seems like an ideal pairing to me.” You offer him a smile. 

For a brief moment, you wonder at your own actions. You’d never go out of your way to be unkind to someone who did not deserve it and you always try to do what’s right, but you know yourself. You have a temper and a spiteful streak that prevent you from ever calling yourself a nice person, though you like to think you are kind in all of the ways that matter.. Arlo is a pirate. Arlo likely knew of the plan to kidnap you and hold you for ransom. Arlo is one of Silco’s men and, therefore, cannot possibly be a good person. 

Yet, you find it easy to be nice to him. Natural, even. He doesn’t seem like a scowling, sneering member of a villainous pirate crew determined to put you through hell before returning you to your father and fiance. 

He’s just…a person. 

So is Jinx. 

You are surrounded by people. Just people. 

You shake away the thought. Yes, the crew of the Zaun’s Revenge are people but they are people who willingly follow a terrible man capable of terrible things. There are no innocent people aboard this ship and you cannot allow sentimentality and loneliness to cloud that fact. 

Still, if a little teamwork can yield some decent food, you’re willing to give it a go. 

With Arlo’s approving nod, you push into the scullery and examine what you have to work with. The stock aboard this half-rotted ship rivals your larder back home. You gather up ingredients you know work well together and read the labels to Arlo. His eyes light up with inspiration. 

“If I had known we had such things, I would have used them ages ago,” he says with an excited smile. 

“No one helped you until now?” You press. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly a helpful bunch. We handle our own responsibilities and we don’t gripe to anyone else. No one wants to be seen as a weak link in the chainmail. Weak links don’t last long. Asking for help would mean dumping some of my responsibilities on someone else’s lap. It’s just not done, you see?” 

“No, not really,” you answer. “Asking for help is not a weakness.”

“We can agree to disagree on that but let me ask you something.” Arlo took a head of garlic and began peeling and mincing the cloves with speed and precision. “When was the last time you answered a call for help?”

You open your mouth to answer but falter. You cannot remember a time you were last approached by someone in need of help. 

“Well, no one has asked me for help in recent memory so I cannot say,” you answer. 

“And that automatically means that no one around you needed help?” 

“I-” you stammer. “I don’t know.”

“I bet you live in a big, fancy house. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, your cheeks coloring with embarrassment as you pass a vial of dried green herbs to Arlo. 

“And lots of people get paid to be in that house and make your life easier?”

“Yes,” you repeat. 

“And you don’t think those people have struggles that you could probably help with?”

You want to say no. You want to believe that everyone working for your family is happy and content with their job as well as their personal lives but you are not that naive. 

Except…perhaps, you are. 

“I never thought about it,” you admit. 

“And they never asked because that’s not how it’s done. Their burdens are their own. My burdens are my own. It is the way of things.” 

You let his words sit heavy on your chest as you rummage through the scullery. You’re almost grateful when you smell the thick stench of rot from ingredients kept too long. You clear out everything that doesn’t look right and shove it into a bin to be disposed of later. 

You think of your lady’s maid and realize you know little about her. You do not know if she has siblings, a lover, a best friend, or even if her parents are alive. You have no idea why she applied for a position with your family. As much as you’d like to think your family are good employers, you know it’s foolish to believe her greatest joy in life is tightening your corset and brushing your hair. 

“Would this be a tasty addition?” Arlo calls, bringing you out of your thoughts as he holds up a jar of dried peppers. You read the label and wince. 

“Are spicy dishes popular among the crew?” You ask. “Just one of those would set your mouth on fire.”

“Better leave it for another day, then,” he shrugs. “I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with too many new flavors.” 

Though Arlo never had any training, his instincts as a cook come to life the moment he fully realizes just what he has to take advantage of. Vegetables are minced and sauteed quickly. You find some bone broth tucked away in the scullery. There is no shortage of fishmeat to choose from. You read the labels to Arlo who looks on in wonder. 

“I thought this was bass and this was carp,” he says, pointing to two containers of preserved fishmeat. “I never knew that was eel. It all looks so different when it’s sliced up and skinned.”

“Who does the fishing?”

“A few crewmembers have a knack for it. All of Sevika’s gadgets make her the obvious choice for skinning, deboning, and filleting,” Arlo explains. “It’s brought to me all packaged up like this.” 

It seems odd to you that the systems around food are so sloppy, especially since Silco seems to thrive on order. Upon further reflection, you realize you haven’t actually seen him eat. He left his plate untouched at the tavern. He let you eat his bread and potatoes. You saw him drink from his tankard but you cannot recall him taking a bite of his food. 

Surely, he must eat. Though he is a pirate, he’s displayed a sense of elegance and taste on more than one occasion. You simply cannot see him eating the food prepared by his illiterate cook. 

But why does it matter to you? He’s obviously eating enough to keep himself alive. Why would you care what he eats? 

You don’t care. And you don’t want to think about him. You have an important task on hand that is, truthfully, quite fun. You’ve come across many of the spices and herbs stored in the scullery during your travels. Smelling them brings pleasant memories. While you do not know how to cook, you know how to describe what things taste like. In the event Arlo knows nothing about an ingredient, you are sometimes able to provide some knowledge. It’s a strange system, but it somehow works. 

Arlo keeps your mind busy. He even teaches you how to chop a few things. Your hands are clumsy but you make it work. Within an hour, you are dutifully stirring a massive pot of fish stew. While it’s not something you’d choose for yourself, it’s an improvement on whatever Arlo made before. “It’s strange to be a cook on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean and have access to things I never even knew existed growing up,” Arlo says, holding a potato in his hands. 

“You never had a potato until joining this crew?” You itch to ask why he joined in the first place but you allow him to reveal information about himself at his own pace. 

“Potatoes grow from the earth, yeah?” He asks. You nod. “Which means they need something in order to grow.” He gives you an expectant look. You know you’re being tested again but potatoes are a safer topic than the unknown personal lives of your staff. “Sunshine, water, and fertilizer, I presume.” 

“There is no sunshine where I come from,” Arlo says. “Water can’t be wasted on plants but even if it could, there is no earth. You can’t grow something of the earth if there is no earth for growing.” 

“Oh,” you murmur softly. “You’re from the Undercity, then?” 

“Almost all of us are,” Arlo says. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

“Well, I haven’t been in a very social mood as of late. Being kidnapped tends to do that.” You offer a small smirk, which Arlo returns. 

“Fair enough,” he nods. “You seem like a decent sort for a spoiled heiress.”

“You seem like a decent sort for a pirate who can’t read.” 

Arlo barks out a laugh. “Perhaps, your ransom money will buy me a tutor.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that as you continue to stir the stew. With a little thrill of accomplishment, you realize that you’ve not only assisted in the preparation of a meal but you’ve done so without thinking of Silco for more than a few moments. He’s hardly entered your mind at all. 

Footfalls thump on the wooden stairs leading to the deck. You spot tall, well-kept boots wrapped around slender legs. 

It is as if your thoughts - or lack thereof - summoned him like some kind of devilish moth to a flame that would prefer to be left unbothered. “Ah, there you are,” Silco says as he enters the mess deck. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Working,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the stew. 

“I did not assign you to the kitchen.”

“You told me to take orders from Sevika. Sevika sent me here. Arlo and I are getting along brilliantly, aren’t we?” You look over your shoulder at the cook who glances between you and Silco with a look of panicked confusion. Eventually, his gaze stops on Silco. 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want her working in the kitchen, Captain,” he says quickly. His voice trembles with nerves and you feel anger flickering to life in your stomach. 

“I should warn you, Arlo,” Silco speaks as though the cook said nothing. “Our prisoner does not have a talent for following directions. She can be sneaky and disobedient if she believes she can get away with it.”

Your cheeks burn as you understand exactly what he means. 

Before you can stop yourself, you pull the wooden spoon from the stew and chuck it at Silco. He dodges, but barely. His good eye widens in surprise as you search for something else to launch at him. Perhaps a nice sharp butcher’s knife. Instead, you find a whisk. You throw it without hesitation. 

“Have you gone mad?” Silco snaps, dodging the second projectile. How can someone with one working eye be so good at dodging and judging distance? Although, you don’t know for certain if the ruined eye still has a vision. Could that be possible?

You let out a frustrated groan as your mind tries to give in to your curiosity about the infuriating pirate before you. 

“Oh, I see,” Silco chuckles. “You’re just upset I won’t let you cu-” 

He is silenced by a spatula spinning through the air as it hurtles toward him. He dodges once more. 

“I have plenty of things to throw at you,” you warn him. “And if I have gone mad, it’s entirely your fault so I will not feel bad if I crack your nose with a rolling pin.”

“I don’t have one of those,” Arlo murmurs softly. 

“Temper, temper,” Silco tuts before backing up toward the stairs. “Don’t let her poison me, Arlo. I don’t put it past her to try.”

Arlo gives you a concerned look as Silco vanishes. 

“Don’t worry,” you say with a bitter note in your voice. “I won’t poison anyone.”

“It’s not that, though I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “But you just threw things at the Captain. Have you lost your bleeding senses, woman?”

“Most likely.” You find another spoon to stir the stew with and continue on as though Silco did not interrupt your work. 

“Just be careful,” Arlo warns. “The Captain is not to be trifled with.”

“Neither am I.” ******** The stew is well received, but that’s not a surprise. Even if it still tastes off to you, it’s a massive improvement. The mess deck is packed with crewmembers licking their bowls clean and sniffing out second helpings. You and Arlo made enough stew to last several meals but it is all gone in the span of an hour. Arlo frets about rationing ingredients but his worries are soon put to rest from an overflow of praise. Even Sevika cracks a smile as she sips her broth. 

Silco does not eat with the crew, but that doesn’t surprise you. A spiteful part of you is glad that he will miss out on such a delightful meal. It serves him right for being so…so… Him. 

As night falls, the crew settles into a leisurely state. 

You get to work scrubbing the dirty dishes, eager to have a task that will keep you out of the Captain’s chambers for as long as possible. 

“Ach, leave it to me,” Arlo says. “You’ve done enough.”

“I don’t mind,” you protest, even though dishwashing is not an appealing task after seeing the way the pirates eat. “I should be helping.”

“Come have a drink with us,” comes the deep voice of the tattoo-covered man. After listening to the conversation during mealtimes, you gleaned that his name is Locke. 

“Oh, I-” You stammer, surprised by the invitation. A slender crewmember with dark choppy hair moves to Locke’s side. You’re fairly certain they go by Ran. 

“Come on,” they urge. “You’ve worked hard enough. And none of us have given you proper credit for taking Walley’s punishment the other day. It took nerve to speak up like that. Most of us wouldn’t have done that.” 

You look back at Arlo, who gives a nod of approval. Your gaze returns to Locke and Ran. Though they do not look as intimidating as they did when you first came aboard, you wouldn’t call their demeanors friendly, either but that’s something you’ve come to expect. Everyone on this ship comes from a rough place. It makes sense that even kindness looks abrasive in your eyes.  “Okay,” you nod. A part of your mind begins to scheme. If you can befriend some of the crew, perhaps you can pull off an escape after all. The other part of your mind is simply glad you have a reason to stay out of the Captain’s cabin. Besides, it will surely irritate Silco that his crew is being so welcoming to you. That’s a lovely bonus to this situation. 

You follow Locke and Ran to the main deck where quite a few members of the crew including Jinx and Sevika stand around a cluster of torches bound together in a damp barrel. It doesn’t seem like the safest arrangement, but you don’t say as much. You move to Jinx’s side. She beams when she sees you and throws a playful, but rough, arm over your shoulder. 

“It’s about time you started being social,” she says with a glint of mischief in her eyes. You almost want to remind her that you are a prisoner, a captive. Socializing is not a priority. You decide against it. She’s just a kid. She’s happy and she’s aware of the situation. You’ll leave well enough alone. 

“Here, princess.” Sevika presses a tin into your hand. You can smell the alcohol even though the tin is nowhere near your face. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“The finest vintage imported from uppityland courtesy of Star Crossed Shipping,” Sevika snorts before taking a gulp of her own drink. You try not to bristle at the mention of your father’s company. 

“Seriously, what is it?” You whisper to Jinx. 

“I don’t know. I only drink coralberry juice,” she shrugs. “Nothing else is sweet enough.” 

You’ve never heard of coralberries or their juice. It’s entirely possible that Jinx is making up a random drink for the fun of it. Either way, your cup is filled with something dark and pungent. It is only when you notice that many crewmembers are watching you with curious and expectant looks that you realize they’re waiting for you to drink. They probably expect you to choke and sputter, proving that you’re too soft and fragile compared to them. 

You don’t know why the idea bothers you, but it does. You brace yourself and take a drink. 

And it is awful. 

If you had to guess, you’d say it was some kind of spiced rum but that doesn’t make the burn any easier to bear as you swallow it down. Your eyes water so much that everyone blurs together in a smudgy mess. For a moment, you think you’re going to be sick. Or that your skin is going to melt off. It’s hard to know for sure. 

Even when you swallow the liquid down and the feeling passes, your tongue feels numb. Surely, that’s nothing to worry about. Right?

You are rewarded with approving glances but never any outright praise. Not that it matters. Why would you want the praise of a bunch of pirates? Why would you want praise for choking down something that tastes like it was made in a boot? 

You shudder as you realize that it likely was made in a boot or something equally foul. 

Thankfully, attention moves away from you as everyone settles down to swap stories. Jinx pulls two crates together and urges you to sit on one. 

“Every word of these stories is utter shit, but they’re entertaining,” Jinx whispers to you. “I hope Locke tells about the time he caught a deep sea spineshark with nothing more than a stick and some fishing line.” 

You listen to the stories and Jinx’s words ring true. It quickly becomes clear that the purpose is not to share experiences, but to outdo each other with fictional feats of glory. Though, when Sevika speaks of punching a ravenous whale right in the eye, you feel as though there is a measure of truth in her words. Especially if that punch was done by her three-pronged attachment. 

“I wonder who is going shout liar first,” Jinx murmurs as her eyes scan the faces of those around her. 

“What?” You ask. 

“Eventually, someone tells a story that’s so impossible, so unbelievable, that someone else calls them a lair. Then they fight over it.” 

“Fight? As in, fight ?” You shake your head. How is this considered a fun activity? 

“Yup!” Jinx’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “It’s the best part.” 

“If you say so,” you shrug and continue to listen. 

Sure enough, a skinny sailor with sunken eyes and a permanent scowl tells a tale that is just a little bit too farfetched and it sends Locke over the edge. 

“Lair!” Locke booms, spilling some of his drink. 

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass,” the other sailor snarls. 

“This is going to be a boring fight,” Jinx mumbles. “No one will throw a punch at Locke and Locke is too honorable to punch someone smaller than him.”

Never in a thousand years would you have looked at Locke and thought the word honorable applies to him. But Jinx’s prediction rings true. The two sailors shout and swear at each other for a little while but they do not come to blows. 

“At least I am a decent shot,” Locke grumbles as the argument reaches its head. 

“My nan is a better shot than you are and she’s fuckin’ blind,” the other man snarls, earning a round of snickers from the rest of the crew. 

“Your nan died three years ago, you twat.”

“Yeah! And she can’t see for shit!” 

You nearly spit out your tentative sip of likely-rum at that. You try to rein in your laughter when you realize everyone else is doing the opposite, especially Jinx. 

“Bring me a rifle,” Locke snaps. “We’ll settle this now.”

“You don’t have any targets to aim for, you buffoon,” Ran quips as they drain their cup. 

“That don’t matter,” the skinny sailor says with a dismissive wave. “I’m so drunk I can see just about as well as my nan.” 

“Then how are we going to settle our little disagreement?” Locke demands. “By proxy?”

“Sure, I’ll choose a proxy to defend my honor,” the sailor scoffs. His bleary eyes scan his surroundings before his gaze lands on you. “I bet the little heiress can outshoot you.”

Locke rolls his eyes and your cheeks flush red. 

“I’ll bet my life’s earning she’s never even held a firearm before,” Locke mutters. 

“Yet she can still outshoot you,” the sailor slurs. 

Your apprehension melts away as you realize everything is said in good fun. For reasons you are unsure of, you decide to join in. 

“I’ve never held a firearm but I’m certain Locke has never danced a waltz,” you say. 

Locke levels you with a hard stare, one brow arched. “Who needs waltzing?”

“Who needs to be a good shot in alone in the middle of the ocean?” You point out. 

“Good marksmanship is very useful in piracy,” Locke says. “Waltzing is not.” 

“Waltzing requires grace, balance, self-awareness, spatial awareness, and the ability to read those around you. You don’t have only your partner to worry about but other pairs around you. Can the same be said for shooting?” 

“Yes!” Jinx exclaims. “Well, maybe not the bit about a partner but that’s all true.”

“What a load of shit,” Locke grumbles. 

“It’s true,” Sevika chimes in. Her word seems to make all the difference even if she only speaks up for the sake of her own entertainment. 

You look at Locke who still seems to be struggling with the idea that a waltz and a rifleman use the same skillset. “I propose a challenge.” 

That gets everyone’s attention. 

“If I can shoot better than Locke can waltz, I win,” you say. 

“Win what?” Locke asks. 

“Bragging rights?” You suggest. You don’t want to trade away any chores since you need them in order to avoid being alone with Silco. 

“Done,” Locke nods with a smirk. Despite his menacing appearance, he looks almost…giddy. Like he’s happy to take part in something that’s truly ridiculous. “Come take your shot.” 

You stand and approach Locke as Ran brings a rifle to him. 

“Do you have any idea how to shoot this at all?” Locke asks. 

“Nope,” you admit. 

“In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I’ll show you just enough to keep you from hurting yourself,” he says. 

“How gallant.” 

He shows you how to hold the rifle, which is far heavier than you imagined. As per instruction, you keep the barrel pointed toward the open ocean at all times. As you hold it, your arms start to tremble. Locke prepares the rifle for firing and you suspect he’s taking longer than necessary just to see you struggle. 

“If there is no target, how can we know whether I’ve made a good shot or not?” You ask. 

“Don’t worry. That won’t matter.” 

“But my part of the challenge is a test of marksmanship,” you protest only to be met with a chuckle. 

“Okay, princess. Go ahead and fire.” Locke gives you a nod and you gently tap your finger against the trigger. Aiming at the endless, empty expanse of the black ocean, you pull the trigger fully. You expect the loud boom but you do not expect to feel the entire rifle revolt against your grip, slamming into your shoulder. You stumble back with a small yelp, much to the enjoyment of the spectators around you. 

Locke tosses his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking. 

“What the hell was that?” You stammer. Ran takes the rifle from you, freeing your hands to rub at your shoulder. 

“Recoil. To be honest, I expected to you land on your ass,” Locke chuckles.

“You might have given me some warning.”

“Where is the fun in that?” The pirate says. 

“Well, once I confirm that my shoulder hasn’t been launched from its socket, I’m going to make you waltz and we’ll see how you do,” You mutter, still testing the soreness in your arm and shoulder. “If you complete the waltz without tripping, you’ll win. Is that fair?” That seems fair to you since Locke expected the rifle’s recoil to send you to the ground. 

“Easy enough,” he agrees. 

“Good. Stand here.” You direct him to stand in front of you. “Watch my feet.”

With a phantom partner, you demonstrate the basic steps of a waltz before returning to Locke. 

“Got it?” You ask. 

“Yes,” Locke nods though he does not seem very confident. 

“Good. Remember, if you trip, I win.” You place his hands in the correct positions and do the same for yourself. He’s much taller and broader than anyone you’ve ever danced with. Your arms feel suspended in an awkward way that almost makes you laugh. 

“I don’t suppose we have any music?” 

“Depends. Can one play a waltz on the side of a barrel?” Jinx asks. 

“Likely not,” you chuckle. “It’s no matter. I will count out the beat. That won’t be too difficult for you, will it?” You taunt Locke who only nods. 

You begin to count, but nothing happens. Locke stands stock still. 

“You’re the man. You’re supposed to lead,” you prompt him. 

“Right. Naturally,” he grumbles and waits for you to begin your count. When you do, he steps forward instead of backward, trampling your foot. You hold in your laughter as you shake your head. 

“I didn’t think you’d stumble on the very first step,” you tease. “Had I known such a game would be so easy to win I would have joined the fun sooner.”

“I’ve never done any of that fancy Piltover dancing before. Let me try again,” Locke mutters. “It’s a stupid dance. It’s not that hard.”

“If you say so,” you shrug before taking up position again. You begin to count once more. To Locke’s credit, he manages two steps before stumbling, earning a round of laughter from the crew. 

“What is the meaning of this?” A voice like a burst of cold wind blew over the deck. Silco stood at the top of the stairs leading to his cabin. The laughter amongst the crew faded into nothing. Only Jinx looked unaffected by the Captain’s sudden presence. 

“A friendly challenge,” you explain. “Nothing more.”

“I can see that,” Silco says as he steps closer to the cluster of burning torches. The firelight casts his face in harsh shadows that make him look even more inhuman than he already does. “But I cannot allow the crew of the Zaun’s Revenge to look incompetent. Locke, step aside.”

“Aye, Captain.” The confusion is clear in his voice as he stumbles back. You are unable to fully hide your confusion as well, especially when Silco steps before you and takes your hand. 

“The honor of the Zaun’s Revenge is at stake. You will not leave this ship under the misbelief that no one here can execute a decent waltz.” 

Well, that’s an unexpected development. 

“Do what you are able,” you reply with a note of challenge in your voice that does not go unnoticed by your new partner. You bring your hand to rest on his shoulder as you prepare to dance. “One more thing,” he says before looking to his crew. “Walley, do you still have that old fiddle?” 

“Aye, Captain.” 

“Fetch it.”

The crewmember scurried away and quickly returned with the promised fiddle. 

“Play Across a Sea so Clear and Blue, ” Silco orders before looking down at you. “I doubt you know it but it will suffice for a waltz. Surely, you can adapt.”

“Surely,” you bristle. 

Walley beings to play his fiddle. Though you do not know the song, the time signature is well-suited for a waltz. You wait for Silco to lead you into the dance, expecting him to miscount or falter but he doesn’t. The pair of you move across the deck as though you’ve done this a hundred times before and plan to do it a hundred times more. 

You quickly adjust to each other’s movements and soon he leaves room for you to add flourishes to the simple steps, which you do without hesitation. Your movements are slow and precise. As you dance with him, you cannot help but think of how different this is from the passion you shared during the storm. Silco leads you through the dance expertly, trusting you to be a competent partner. This isn’t a show of dominance or power but a display of grace and unity. Two bodies moving as one to create something elegant and lovely. 

The song ends far too soon, as does the dance. You feel breathless even though the dance was not at all physically demanding. You’re speechless even as your body moves you through the motions of curtsying to your partner. 

Thankfully, Jinx appears at your side. She’s nearly vibrating with excitement. 

“How did you do that? You looked like you were floating!” She says, looking between you and Silco. Her question is a good one. 

Where does a pirate learn how to waltz, let alone waltz so well? 

“I…” You start only to trail off. “I need a drink.”

You move away from Silco, back to your abandoned cup. You force yourself to take a sip and you are grateful that it goes down easier this time. The alcohol settles in your belly and dulls the unwanted feelings swirling through you. 

Jinx joins you soon and within minutes, the crew is back to swapping stories and boasting as though the waltz never happened. 

Your gaze wanders to the bow. Though that part of the ship is kept in darkness, Silco’s figure is even darker and you can see him easily. 

Curiosity and something deeper that you do not wish to think about tugs at you. You do your best to ignore it for as long as you are able, but it’s like a persistent buzzing fly hovering around your head. 

With a resigned sigh, you get up and move toward the bow. No one stops you or questions you. 

You reach Silco’s side and stand quietly in the darkness for a moment. You can hear the gentle lap of the water against the ship’s hull and you can see the sparkling array of stars above, but everything else is black. 

“If you’ve come to beg for another dance, I’m afraid I will disappoint you,” Silco says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, as though he does not wish the stars to overhear him. 

“I wasn’t going to,” you say. “But I was going to ask where you learned to dance like that.”

“It does not take much to learn how to waltz,” he says. Though you cannot see his face, save for the glow of his ruined eye, you get the sense that he’s avoiding something. 

“It’s not just that,” you say. “You dance like a gentleman. You carry yourself like a gentleman. You speak like a gentleman, for the most part. Yet, you’re…”

“A pirate? A sea hound? A scoundrel? A criminal?”

“You could have stopped at pirate but yes,” you nod, earning a soft chuckle from Silco. “But even still, you’re nothing like the pirates my father has encountered.” 

“I’ll admit to that,” he says. “I am not like any other pirate roaming the seas. I have no wish to scavenge from trade ships. If I wished to fight for scraps with a thousand other desperate fools, I would have stayed in the Undercity.” 

Silco does not need to see your face to know his words have thrown you. 

“Is it more believable that a pirate can carry himself well than it is to believe a gutter rat can do the same?” 

“I have not known what to believe for several days now,” you say. “I’d be willing to believe almost anything.” 

The chuckle that leaves Silco’s throat is dry and humorless. “The Piltover Naval Academy loves bottomfeeders with a sad story.” 

Your eyes widen in the darkness. 

Of course, that makes perfect sense. He wasn’t daunted by the storm. He runs his ship with precision and discipline one would not attribute to ordinary pirates. He’s managed to instill a sense of both fear and loyalty in his crew. And those who attend the academy are taught etiquette, dance, deportment, and anything else that can shape them into shining jewels of society. 

Your mind snaps back to the day you were kidnapped, before everything went to hell. Captain Vander spoke of the academy briefly. There was a moment when a shadow fell over his features as he spoke of his past. And he knew Silco. As did Quartermaster Benzo. 

“Did you know Captain Vander?” You ask softly, unsure if you wish to know the answer or not. 

Silence stretches out between you and Silco. Even though you are within arms reach of him, you feel as though you may as well be an ocean away. 

“Yes.” His voice is soft yet somehow still harsh. Bitter but sad. 

“Were you…close?” you ask, unsure if there is a better way to phrase it. The way Captain Vander looked at Silco aboard The Hound went beyond normal anger. There was history there. 

“For a time,” Silco replies. 

You’re shocked that he gave you any kind of real answer. 

“What happened?” You press, wanting to see how far you can take your questions. 

“Professional differences,” Silco mutters. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.” 

Silco turns to look at you as silence falls once more. Though you can barely make out his features, you can see he is fighting some kind of war within himself. You are about to take the high road and apologize for prying, as the rules of polite conversation demand, when the ship suddenly heaves hard to one side. 

Unable to right yourself in time, you start to fall. Silco’s arm snakes around your waist as he pulls you to him, allowing you to use his body to steady yourself. Farther down the deck, the crew voices their confusion amongst themselves, unsettled by the sudden jolt. 

“What was that?” You ask, turning your gaze to the sky as though you expect another terrible storm to blow in out of nowhere. But the skies are perfectly clear and the wind is calm. The ocean, however, tells a different story. The faint light of the torches reaches the water closest to the ship. Instead of the calm, docile sea, the Zaun’s Revenge glided on only moments ago, the water was as violent as a bubbling cauldron. 

“Get back,” Silco urges, guiding you away from the railing. 

“What is it?” You repeat. 

Silco does not get a chance to answer. In the blink of an eye, the sea erupts. At first, you fear the ship has nudged some kind of explosive. You can think of nothing else that would explain the towering column of water rising just off the starboard bow. 

The water crashes back down to the ocean’s surface except that it doesn’t. Water rolls off the form of something huge, something that also looks like water. You blink over and over, trying to make sense of what you are seeing. 

You spot two glowing orbs that shine brilliant blue, brighter than any star in the sky. They look like glowing stones that are somehow perfectly round. Your stomach drops as the crew leaps to action around you and more torches are quickly illuminated. The glowing stones are not stones at all. 

They are eyes. 

Glowing, unnatural eyes deeply set into a massive head made entirely of living water. The head boasts a long snout. Water vapor floated like smoke from what you believe to be nostrils. Its long, curving neck ripples as the water that made up its body somehow managed to keep its shape. Its serpentine body vanishes into the sea as its proud head takes in the sight of the ship. Its watery jaw opens revealing long, sharp teeth that look deadly despite also being made of water. 

The creature let out a shriek that makes your vision go blurry for a moment. Your mind still grapples with what your eyes attempt to understand but there is one thing you know for certain. You are not safe. 

The water monster shrieks once more and dives toward the deck with open jaws. 

[spagheddiediaz]

inspiration saturday!

tagged by @thewolvesof1998

bc i woke up this morning to see that taylor sang you are in love as her second surprise song last night and i was immediately slapped in the face with buddie feels.

i think it will eventually be a full length fic based off the song but anyway please enjoy

burnt toast, sunday

Sleeping through the night was rare for Buck. If his neighbor’s echoing voice didn’t wake him out of a deep sleep, it was a nightmare. If a barking dog outside his window at 3am didn’t do the trick, Maddie drunk butt dialing him after karaoke night would pull him right out of his peaceful slumber. Tonight, though? Tonight was one of those rare nights where his brain was able to shut off the outside world completely as his body sank deeper and deeper into the familiarity of the Diaz couch.  At least the sun was up when he was awoken to the sound of an alarm blaring, his mind telling him to get up, jump into his turnouts, and hop into the truck. His eyes blinked open, realizing instantly he wasn’t at the station bunk room and was instead in Eddie’s living room, a half-empty beer bottle on the coffee table from the night before. He lifted his head, looking around and instantly recognizing the familiar smell.  The smell of …smoke. “Chris - CHRISTOPHER.” Buck screamed at the top of his lungs, his body bolting off the couch before his mind had the chance to even wake up. “CHRIS - EDDIE!” He screamed, knocking down the end table and running down the hall to find Christopher sitting at the kitchen table with a look of pure judgment on his face. Eddie was leaning against the counter, a fire extinguisher by his side as he stared at the piece of completely burnt toast on his plate.  “I.. don’t want to talk about it.” Eddie shook his head, moving the extinguisher back against the wall of the counter.  Buck’s heart was still racing even though he could very clearly see that neither of his boys were in any type of danger whatsoever.. Unless you count having no breakfast as danger. Which.. Yeah. Hangry Eddie could sometimes be dangerous. He went to pick Christopher up, needing to feel that he was safe. Christopher let him, wrapping his arms and legs around Buck and letting himself snuggle into his neck.  Once Buck’s pulse returned to a normal rhythm, he let out a long breath of relief,  his hand rubbing Christopher’s back in slow circles, the movement grounding him.  Chris was older now. And while the days of routine snuggles before bedtime were behind them, Christopher was the most emotionally intelligent kid Buck had ever met. He knew when to give Eddie space, and when a hug would ease his mind. He knew to ask Buck to take him out for ice cream after a rough shift, and when to “accidentally” fall asleep against his side during movie night. Most of all, he knew when and how to lighten the mood of any situation, really. “Buck?” Chris asked, lifting his head from where it was resting in his neck. “Yeah, Superman?” Buck asked, shifting him in his arms. He looked to the fire extinguisher, and then to his father. “Is this… technically ironic?” Buck was only able to keep a straight face for about .4 seconds before bursting out into laughter, having to set Christopher down so he could try and collect himself, but every time he tried he fell into another laughing fit, clutching at his ribs while tears started to roll down his cheeks. “It’s not that funny.” Eddie’s lips couldn’t help but curve up at the sound of Buck’s laughter, his body relaxing at one of his favorite sounds.  “It’s - Eddie. You do realize you just technically worked on a Sunday.” Buck said through his tears, wiping them away with his sleeve. It might not have been a five alarm, but Eddie did just put out a fire. “And without overtime pay!” He teased, knowing damn well Eddie wouldn’t be stepping foot into 118 on a Sunday unless the words “overtime” were spoken.  “I’d put you on the couch..” Eddie glared at Buck, his smile still not fading. “But you’re already there.” “Boom. Roasted.” Chris made a fist and punched the air towards Buck, letting both of them know he wasn’t taking anyone’s side.. At least not openly. “So… Buck. Can you make pancakes?”  “As long as your dad doesn’t go near the stove.” He walked towards Eddie, placing a hand on his waist only to push him out of the kitchen ever so gently.

tagging (zero pressure!!) @king-buckley @forthewolves @cowboy-buck @monsterrae1 @bellabrady @thosetwofirefighters @sibylsleaves @housewifebuck @wikiangela @buckactuallys @cowboy-buddie @tawaifeddiediaz @prince-buck-diaz @anxieteandbiscuits @hattalove @messyhairdiaz @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @woodchoc-magnum @mrevanbuckley

[best--dress]

WIP Wednesday - mushy edition

When I sat down to write out the things I wanted to *manifest* at the beginning of 2023, top of my list was an artistic community. I was halfway through my masters program and I had hoped that I'd find like-minded artists there, but my cohort was full of people who valued aesthetics over ideas, plus one guy who believed that to be able to call yourself an artist, you had to be able to draw technically well. (Totally valid positions to hold, but I was literally making websites and calling it art and having no one to talk to about it.)

Anyway, flash forward to June when I was in a deep deep depression and about to graduate having barely started my job hunt. I turned to the Simon Snow books for comfort, and then turned to tumblr for more. I'd never written fanfiction before and had barely read any. At first I was just reblogging memes, but then I started to find myself reading canon-compliant fic, and then AUs, and increasingly seeking out the crackiest fic I could find, because it's all so damn good in this fandom. I was also in awe of how kind and close-knit the community is - I've been on the internet for over 20 years, and I don't think I've ever seen anything else like it.

I signed up for @carryon-reverse-bang bc I wanted to get more involved & get to know people more. I gotta say I was intimidated when I realized I was paired with Ashton! Getting to bounce my ideas off her and Pati (beta extraordinaire) was honestly the creative collaboration I've been craving for so long. It's been so wild to make up this silly story about these characters who live in my head 24/7 and hear back from one of them, "oh, he would totally do that!"

Flash back, I guess, to this fall. I did get a job, I've been working as an art teacher since September. This is my first teaching job and it's been a lot, but as the months go by, I do feel like it's the "more meaningful" career I was seeking. Because in my best moments, when the kids are totally engaged in making something, I feel with total conviction:

Making things with other humans is the most sacred thing in the world.

Thanks for the tags today @alexalexinii, @cutestkilla & @nightimedreamersworld. I'm mostly at the final edits stage of The Tower Room, and I'm reluctant to share much from the last chapter, but here's something that should be fun out of context:

He smirks at me like he's figured out all my secrets.

Hiiiii to @artsyunderstudy, @aristocratic-otter, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @ileadacharmedlife, @youarenevertooold, @rimeswithpurple, @thewholelemon, @facewithoutheart, @leithillustration, @katatsumuli, @theimpossibledemon, @scribble-tier, @iamamythologicalcreature, @martsonmars, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @louisandtheaquarian

[candybowbeansies]

warnings/notes: completely sfw thoughts on knivesxhuman reader and one of his sisters who is a bit more sentient than the rest, and the bond between her and reader. she gets plantnapped twice, once away from reader, and twice being by her brother Nai. its not fleshed out whatsoever, just some snippets, thotz, and ideas, plus a new tag!

~~~

this idea has been living rent-free in my head for awhile now...knivesxreader, the reader being a human orphan(the last human alive in their town for one reason or another) who had/has a v special connection with an eccentric Plant. she(the Plant) looks and acts exactly like her sisters, can't speak and is a source of power, etc except she is slightly more sentient than them, being able to form simple emotional attachments similar to a child to a bunny rabbit they see at a pet store, except it's much longer lasting because she took care of reader to the best of her ability, being unable to survive outside her special container. its like an elephant's memory. you save them, and they remember you the rest of their life.

Her name is Magic(or any other name you'd prefer, Magic bc as a child reader thought the glowing lights beneath her skin was magic) courtesy of reader.

Another thought...if Magic was stolen from reader, who was left to die and was eventually picked up by knives, and many years later knives unknowingly reunites them. reader made a point to always be there to welcome knives back when he had returned from retrieving his sisters hoping that Magic was still alive, and reader knows it's Magic the moment they lay eyes on her.

So imagine his surprise when reader yells out Magic, approaching far too close without a thought. His surprise when he hears his sister react and sees her bloom for a human.

its like an elephant's memory. a human child in their innocence genuinely tried to take care of her, and she tried to take care of the human child in turn.

His surprise when the lights beneath her skin flare giddily as she presses her hands against the glass, then her forehead.

His surprise that he finds himself falling in love with reader the moment they mimic her tender, affectionate actions; a show of hers and your bond.

And when he hears it. When he hears his sister who was used and abused by humans had technically adopted a human(similar to how humans adopt animals and take care of them if u squint bc i dont like any form of cest, e.g stepcest, incest, plantcest)...he falls harder. Because he believes from that moment on that the reader is the purest. Far too pure for their kind.

And they are; the tears of happiness from them and the display of joy from his sister when he makes arrangements for the two to live as close to eachother as possible proves it.

Take this and run, do with it what you will if you want, just please tag me for the love of knives if it fuels your creativity <3

[crownrots]

last night episode really got me thinking about elsa and rhaenys’ relationship, both when rhaela was alive and after she passed and rhaenys and corlys took her in (bc why wouldn’t they 🤡 … uncle daddy and auntie step mom). It’s such a tumultuous ride tho … rhaenys initially harboring ill will towards her because she’s technically corlys’ first born to being incredibly instrumental in raising her bc she KNEW her sister’s time with her was going to be short.

i ran out of tags to tag spoilers so: h*td spoilers dawgs for last nights hour of torture.

rhaenys, even if she didn’t show it as much, thought of Elsa as her own and Elsa, despite not showing it, always looked to her for the mother she was robbed of far too soon. The two argued like a parent and child might, the flew their dragons together, laughed and drank and mourned with one another.

But there was always a little sting, a little bit of resentment especially after Laena and Laenor passed, because while her only two children perished… Corlys’ child still lived and thrived and she always had to remind herself that Elsa wasn’t privy to her lineage. Only thought Corlys’ treated her as a daughter because that was expected of him as her aunt’s husband.

It’s not until everything is really laid out in the open that she’s able to let go of that little chip on her shoulder, to let it fall away so she can fully remember and realize the promise she had made to her sister on her death bed all those years ago; she has done far more for elsa than even SHE realized.

and then THIS happens … and the fact that they don’t even get to say goodbye. the fact that the last time they saw each other rhaenys was only catching a glimpse of her hauling ass north because something had gone amiss once jace departed from there. she never got to tell her just how much she loved her and loved raising her. that any anger or resentment or callousness she showed her at ANY point of her life had been ill placed and accidental. she never got to REALLY tell her how proud of her she was. how much of a privilege it had been to raise her up into the woman and mother she had become. she definitely does not see her late sister when she looks at her, but rather sees herself.

and when elsa returns, and in her grief goes to the alter by the tide pools that she’s visited far too often in her lifetime she absolutely loses it. while normally she’d have whittled a piece of wood to look like who she had lost, she stands there and just looks at the line of pieces that are already there; her mother, her grandmother, aemma, laena, laenor, viserys, luke, and her own son, rickon…she can’t put rhaneys there, she just can’t.

and in her grief and rage she destroys it, destroys the one place of peace she’s had all those years. destroys her once place of reflection and one place she could grieve uninterrupted. she rips the alter of driftwood and stone apart with her bare hands, knuckles bleeding.

it’s not a place of remembrance or reflection. it’s a glaring reminder of everything and everyone she’s lost. the empty spaces, a place holder for who might have an effigy placed there next; her husband, her daughters, her only remaining son, her nieces, her nephews, her queen and cousin, her father … the list goes on.

and all the while her dragon watches, feeling every ounce of her grief tenfold, and it’s unlike the kind she’s shared with her before. but when it’s all said am done, just like when elsa was fourteen and had lost her mother, frosteye lifts one opal wing, battle scars from them turning the tide in north still healing, and invites her under. and elsa accepts just as she did before, crawling beneath the wing, sand singing her split knuckles, drawing herself into a fetal position and weeping like a babe.

but she knows rhaenys isn’t coming to check on her like before. she knows frosteye won’t chortle and shift at the high valaryian spoken so softly and clearly to calm her upon approach.

she’s surrounded by so many, needed by so many. but she’s never felt so alone in rhaenys’ absence.

[youngestdaughtersyndrome]

Tagged by my darling @glassangels <3<3<3

1. Are you named after anyone? Im named after a kinks song which is a massive win for me personally. They almost named me rosa after the pixies album (which wouldve made sense bc we do in fact surf) but one of my moms friends was already knitting a sweater with the kinks-name on it and she convinced them to keep it. My middle name is also my paternal grandmas middle name so i guess that counts too

2. When was the last time you cried? No idea tbh. That thing where you lie down on your side and then your eyes start leaking happens to me a lot but a proper sadness-induced cry hasnt happened for months. I will say that sometimes i say something made me cry, and although it technically didnt due to no tears falling, it did make my soul hurt and crying is the closest phrase that expresses that <3

3. Do you have kids? Thank god no

4. What sports do you play/have you played? Soccer, ran track for a bit, ultimate frisbee, swimming, fencing, fighting (mma, kickboxing, cage, etc), equestrianism (im including my brief and unimpressive time vaulting here), did some stuff with a circus briefly (contortionism, aerial arts, lyra), and then the usual outdoorsy shit (surfing, bouldering, hiking, skiing, and since caving is technically a sport, caving). Also danced for a bit (ballet, contemporary, and jazz). Yeah man idk either

5. Do you use sarcasm? Technically yes but its less "sarcasm" and more "inability to express a truth about myself without making it into a joke". A bit of sarcasm when the time calls for it is always fair game though and i will indulge

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone? The way they carry themself says a lot about their temperament and emotional state and whatnot so thats typically where my eye is drawn. Second place goes to wherever theyre keeping their valuables on them and how expensively theyre dressed though

7. Eye color? Blue but ive got a bit of yellow central heterochromia so they tend to look green if its bright out

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Kill them <3 scary movies 4ever

9. Any talents? Party trick-wise i did retain some contortionist ability and so thats always a good one to break out. Also can spit water up to 30 ft for tooth gap reasons. I am the type of person whos just naturally good at a lot of things (sorry) so i consider that a talent too

10. Where were you born? The top left corner of the USA, not including alaska

11. Hobbies? Writing, journaling, watching movies, reading, various textile arts, going for walks, playing assorted instruments, and occasionally traditional art (im particularly fond of ballpoint pens and oil pastels). Would say listening to music but thats a job to me and i clock into that shit like i get paid

12. Any pets? Maeve the most anxious dog in the world who i love very much <3

13. Height? 5'8/172 cm

14. Favorite school subject? I was a school hater so it really depended on the teacher... in high school i did have the same teacher for like three years in a row (she taught me english in freshman year, history in sophomore, + health in junior) and she was totally awesome so all those classes were great. Typically the classes i had the most fun in were english and history just bc there was more room for fucking around. In the single semester of college i took i did have crazy amounts of fun in my film class though which i will say was mostly because my professor rocked and i got him on my side early so i could kind of do whatever

15. Dream job? Due to the Issues and also common sense mainly i just wish the government actually took care of people and i wouldnt need to work. But if i have to chose a job than itd be a) writing a book or two that are good enough i could live off the royalties and film rights and whatnot for the rest of my life or b) pulling an enya (dropping some widely beloved and largely incomprehensible music and then disappearing totally from the public eye to live in a castle in the middle of nowhere)

Idk whos already done this so ignore me if you have lol @supersonic1994 @nothingrhymedwithcircus @hauntedwoman @halogenstreetlight @evebabitzgf @serethereal and anyone else who wants to <3<3<3

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

AO3 Tag Game!

Tagged by @mvshortcut :) I'm gonna stick with just this fandom/this account for this one to make it less confusing

How many works do you have on AO3?

44. (Including snippet collections.) For this fandom/account. Far more if you count bi-demon-ium or my old account or my older account or

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Okay this one it won't let me separate by pseud or fandom so you're just gonna have to live with being lumped in with all my MBS and a few other misc fics at "653,461". Didn't get the other accounts though. Man, I'm a mess

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

Okay, well, this one by nature is also not solely for this fandom,

(number in parentheses is number of ao3 works posted)

Ted Lasso (obviously) (44) (including snippet collections)

The Mysterious Benedict Society (116) (also including snippet collections)

Instinct (2) (one is a small snippet collection--)

House MD (1)

Death by Dying (1)

Gravity Falls, technically, but it was one crossover (1)

ditto with The Legend of Zelda (1)

King Falls AM (1)

The House in the Cerulean Sea (6)

Shadowhunters (??? at least 36) (some now hidden/lost)

Professor Layton (1)

The Librarians (2)

The Sandman (1)

The Mentalist (2)

Star Trek (AOS) (1)

Sanders Sides (at least 1)

Miraculous Ladybug (1)

Rosewell: New Mexico (2)

The Dresden Files (1)

That's stuff posted to ao3/finished. There's also, technically,

for stuff I published when I was twelve and I now refuse to acknowledge (not all bc of the fandom but bc the fic was Bad):

Doctor Who

Supernatural

Sherlock

Psych

Castle

Welcome to Night Vale

Avengers

A Series of Unfortunate Events

And then stuff I've written for but never finished:

Warehouse 13

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (2016)

Dirk Gently (2010)

SurrealEstate

Zoo (podcast)

Once Upon a Time

Scooby Doo

Person of Interest

The Goes Wrong Show

Spy Kids (???)

Ace Attorney

The Adventure Zone

Criminal Minds

Star Trek (TOS, TNG, and DS9)

Haven

MacGyver

Trollhunters

exactly one (1) joke The Magnus Archives fic

Percy Jackson and the Olympians + The Kane Chronicles + Tales of Apollo

Leverage

Pushing Daisies

The Sarah Jane Adventures

Megamind

Bones

Avatar: the Last Airbender

Lucifer

Some of these are deeply questionable and/or only have like two (2) wips or even posted works at most, but I'm thorough. Also, I will write about almost anything bc my brain loves to process things like this. I may have even missed something

Top five fics by kudos:

Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth (1125)

semaphore (977)

off the handle (719)

linger (699) (nice)

a preacher, a bikini, and a kiss or two (641)

Do you respond to comments?

I really try to, but then I get all in my head about it and/or am really really tired and put it off so long it then feels like it would be weird to respond because it's been forever. However, if there's a direct question or something I want to address/respond to, as in, I have something particularly unique to say or a question to answer, then I'll usually respond really fast

What’s the fic with the angstiest ending you’ve ever written?

Honestly, I'm not a huge unhappy ending person, a lot of the time I'll have a first chapter I was initially going to end really angsty (see ink sunset and make a mess of you) and then added more to fix it at least somewhat. As is... maybe the somewhat unresolved emotional tension (for Ted and Trent, at least, Roy's doing great) in something to get off my chest, the +1 for betrayal's sting / absolution's balm? I have some worse ones in an old fandom on an old account but. meh.

Do you write crossovers?

Not often, but I rotate them in my brain. Honestly, though, I'm more inclined to write a fusion than a crossover proper. And even so, I tend to just be thinking about it rather than actually writing it. I've only written one crossover in recent memory (recently, that is) and it was mostly a joke about a shared actress made into actual angst.

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Yeah lmao

Do you write smut?

😏 sure do

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

👁️👁️ not in this fandom

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!! also not in this fandom

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

In this fandom? Trent/Ted. overall? no idea, because recency bias, my all-time favorite is whatever I'm into right now, which isn't really objective but hyperfixationitis.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

:( so many. AND there are a lot of posted fics I want to write a sequel/companion piece for and idk if I'll ever get the energy...

I guess off the top of my head, for this fandom, I'd go with lost sight of (who you are) (motivation died because it's old enough no one knows it exists anymore lkfgjh) and ink sunset (I WANNA FINISH IT I DO I DO I DO)

What are your writing strengths?

I think I can write a really funny string of dialogue, and I'm also fond of fun metaphors, both in the elegant poetic way and in the more Douglas Adams/Terry Pratchett way (which is to say, still potentially elegant but also comedic as hell)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Motivating myself to write anything; being overly self-indulgent

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I'm extremely bad at linguistics in general, so if I must include someone talking in another language in my fic, I think I'd tend to cheat and do italics or some other indication that this is 'in another language' (ie "Where are you going?" she asked in Russian), but that's admittedly a lazy approach. But I also think it's probably better than butchering it with an auto-translator? Also, when people just include the translation in the end notes, even with a link (although that makes it marginally better) it breaks the flow of the story and makes it hard to read. Making an effort to at least match grammar is good (which I would do if it was for longer than a single scene, probably) but I think the best solution is when people know what they're doing and like, have an actual translation with a little html code so you can click on it and it reveals what it means? Or if you're clever, revealing what it means using context around it, but that has its own limitations. So that both like, uses the actual language and doesn't break up the flow. It balances accessibility, flow, and respect for the other language in question well. But you've got to both know what you're doing with the language (either asking someone/hiring someone/knowing the language yourself) and the html (although there are guides for that you'd have to spend time figuring it out + know it exists in the first place to look). And this is fanfiction, something we ultimately do for free in our spare time, so the lazy approach, I think, can be understandable. Maybe not in every context, but it's not worth stressing a lot over in a few random lines or anything, you know? It is really cool when people do know a language well enough to include it properly in a fic, though, it can say a lot about a character or dynamic; and their background(s) and like. it's neat :)

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Ever? Doctor Who. In a shitty little notebook in middle school. Then there was some Star Trek (both TNG and TOS) and Avatar: the Last Airbender and Marvel and such, and then Supernatural (my first smut? extremely terrible Destiel smut. rip) and I think the first thing I ever posted was Welcome to Night Vale? Not sure.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

Oh, man. I have no idea. Here's a few favorites from this fandom:

matters of the heart

trick & treat

vita nova

melt like this

"second impressions"

"reveal"

probably those time travel snippets, just in general

tagging:

PLEASE, if you want to do this, I'm begging you, tag me in it and do it. i'm too tired to come up with names im so sorry

[shuckinbeanz]

warnings/notes: completely sfw thoughts on knivesxhuman reader and one of his sisters who is a bit more sentient than the rest, and the bond between her and reader. she gets plantnapped twice, once away from reader, and twice being by her brother Nai. its not completely fleshed out and some things need to be changed but idc, its just some snippets, thotz, and ideas, plus a new tag!

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Tags:@dynamightsdaydream

~~~

this idea has been living rent-free in my head for awhile now...knivesxreader, the reader being a human orphan(the last human alive in their town for one reason or another) who had/has a v special connection with an eccentric Plant. she(the Plant) looks and acts exactly like her sisters, can't speak and is a source of power, etc except she is slightly more sentient than them, being able to form simple emotional attachments similar to a child to a bunny rabbit they see at a pet store, except it's much longer lasting because she took care of reader to the best of her ability, being unable to survive outside her special container. its like an elephant's memory. you save them, and they remember you the rest of their life.

Her name is Magic(or any other name you'd prefer, Magic bc as a child reader thought the glowing lights beneath her skin was magic) courtesy of reader.

Another thought...if Magic was stolen from reader, who was left to die and was eventually picked up by knives, and many years later knives unknowingly reunites them. reader made a point to always be there to welcome knives back when he had returned from retrieving his sisters hoping that Magic was still alive, and reader knows it's Magic the moment they lay eyes on her.

So imagine his surprise when reader yells out Magic, approaching far too close without a thought. His surprise when he hears his sister react and sees her bloom for a human.

its like an elephant's memory. a human child in their innocence genuinely tried to take care of her, and she tried to take care of the human child in turn.

His surprise when the lights beneath her skin flare giddily as she presses her hands against the glass, then her forehead.

His surprise that he finds himself falling in love with reader the moment they mimic her tender, affectionate actions; a show of hers and your bond.

And when he hears it. When he hears his sister who was used and abused by humans had technically adopted a human(similar to how humans adopt animals and take care of them if u squint bc i dont like any form of cest, e.g step, in, plant)...he falls harder. Because he believes from that moment on that the reader is the purest. Far too pure for their kind.

And they are; the tears of happiness from them and the display of joy from his sister when he makes arrangements for the two to live as close to eachother as possible proves it.

Take this and run, do with it what you will if you want, just please tag me for the love of knives if it fuels your creativity <3

[dogueteeth-fhr]

Fanfic Writer Questions

Thank you @silvery-bluish & @glitchy-npc for the tags! Not sure who else to send it to atm but if you see this on my page and decide to pitch in with your answers feel free to @ me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I've got 12! Most are oneshots, others are series.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

47002 on AO3 at the moment! And so much more in my docs.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Fallen Hero, with a dash of TWC and some other fandoms sprinkled in my WIPS but I've been on Fallen Hero brainrot for a long time now so the other fandoms are currently neglected.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Nightmare (surprisingly enough) w/ 28 kudos

focus (it's harder than you think) (also surprising lol) w/ 20 kudos

new pavement w/ 18 kudos

anamnesis w/ 18 kudos

freefall w/ 13 kudos tied with bath(toaster)tub also w/ 13 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to respond to all of them! But some days I just don't have the spoons to and I forget, but I really appreciate any comments I receive.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

HA. you want me to pick??? Ok hrm. maybe bath(toaster)tub? anamnesis also has so me pretty angsty pieces in there.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

PFFF. ok gotta. go look for this one. Maybe sargasso sea, though it's technically not the last iteration in its series between a continued plotline hinted out in after the fall and a third part planned for its series.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet! I think.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

(slaps brain) this bad boy can generate so much smut. I write pretty much any kind? Soft, rough, indulgent, M/M, F/M, F/F, other any everything, kinky or emotional, etc. Just whatever strikes me at the time, but most just dont get published bc I'm mid.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I typically HATE crossover fics they just aren't my thing I do write AUs of X story set in X story's universe, just haven't published them (wait does that still count as a crossover).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nah, considered it once tho.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Haven't found someone with the vibe ig, it's just never crossed my mind to co-write a fic and just never been asked too.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

(cue strained breath) i have no all time favorites BUT. but. Ricardo/Wei gets me SO soft ok. i just. unrequited years long attraction finally requited and i. AAAAA. place sidestep in there too and i'm just so happy. i need poly rep in my life sometimes ok.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I stare into the google docs hell and ask you how you could expect me to pick one but. BUT. Praeludium//Allegro. A piece meant to dive in how Sidestep is able to experience the moment someone dies through their mind.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Shorter pieces! They tend to be about ~2000-5000 words per part, that's usually when I feel I've done my best. I'm also. Decent at NSFW writing? Sometimes, at least.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Definitely long fics. I had a plan for freefall and have scrapped and adapted it multiple times now, pus it's just difficult to keep myself interested in specific but necessary chapters.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's fun! I've included Spanish and Russian excerpts into my fics before but I don't do it a lot. Considered writing fully in Spanish at some point for an Ortega POV but I'm not confident in my grammar abilities. Spanish verb tenses my beloathed.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Naruto. On a different old account best left to gather dust.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hm, I'm not sure if I have a favorite. I do really like the NSFW piece I wrote from Remy's POV, though. Short but good.

[pinepickled]

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

❤❤❤

❄️❄️❄️

THIS IS HARD!!!! When I dream of a fic, I simply write it.... there is one genre of fic that I really adore but can't bring myself to write and it's daemon aus, as in His Dark Materials. I *adore* the sort of "spirit animal" concept but I just can't write it myself! And this AU is so rare I can barely find any fics for it, especially in modern fandoms!!! It's such a dilemma for me, I'm begging *anyone* willing to write it.

I find myself wanting existing fics to update more, though. For instance, Whumpbby has a couple fics they haven't updated in years (no hate obviously, that's just how the cookie crumbles sometimes) but their Reaper76 one and Voltron Gijinka ones are really good and I am BEGGING for more. [Linked below)

🥤🥤🥤

Well, I can't recommend enough! Aside from the ones above, there's:

want to see your animal side by blackkat (but blackkat has said they want to distance themselves from this fandom so.... sigh). It's a Naruto yokai au Kakashi/Zabuza fic that's deliciously spicy and builds on Naruto's lore nicely. This is the fic that inspired my own fic series In the Snowfields!

Pretty Hyung Who Buys Me Food by InBooks which is a S Classes that I raised fic, Sung Hyunjae/Han Yoojin ofc, where instead of regressing 5 years, he regressed 20 and lost his memories 👀 sweet and funny and adorable, highly recommend

Never Ever by LostOzian (their archive) is a Tiger and Bunny fic, Omegaverse bc that's how we roll, where Tiger hasn't smelled a compatible Alpha that he liked ever, until Barnaby came along. The tension is so tight it could be a yaoi uke's asshole. Highly, highly recommend if you like slow burn and forced-proximity

A World of One Color by The Big Roman (Hammocker) is a Roman Sionis (Black Mask)/Jason Todd fic series that I drool over every time I think about it. Sadistic yet caring Roman and a Jason desperate to be loved, muah. Chefs kiss. Honestly anything in the Jason/Roman ao3 tag is perfect.

Designation: Miracle by Umisabaku is a kuroko no basket fic with all the classic pairings (and a curveball with my favorite, Akashi/Furihata) which is a sci fi au of KNB. Her summary is the best so I'll just copy:

"It's been three years since seven human experiments, called "Miracles," escaped Teiko Industries, alerting the world to the presence of super-powered children. Now they're finally integrating into society-- going to normal high schools, playing basketball, falling in love-- and trying to find out if it's possible to truly escape their past."

I find it so difficult to get into plot-heavy fic, especially these days, but this fic is a downright masterpiece. I can't emphasize enough: if you're going to read anything on this list, read this. The plots emotional and technical beats never disappoint, and Umisabaku has a rich and wonderful range of OCs that are just as if not more interesting than the characters we know. They've also written stunning original fiction you can find on their Tumblr!!! @/umisabaku

Tear into your Soul by Nirejseki. Just kinky fucked up Hashirama/Madara/Tobirama goodness.

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Phew, that last section got long. Believe it or not, I don't really listen to Playlists! I let YouTube Recommended decide lmao. Here's one I enjoy though: https://youtu.be/nGjtdh5T9II

Thank you for the asks <3<3<3<3<3<3 I love doing these!