#Blood For Gold Part 7 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 6 months ago

Text

Never Shall We Die (1)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final]: 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tagin following parts

[AN]: thank you so much to @highvern for betaing for me and helping out with the plot so much, this fic would not exist if it weren't for her!!!! and thank you reader!!! for clicking on this and reading it, this one's been about 7 months in the works and I would love to hear what your thoughts are when you're done, plsplspls leave a rb or a reply with your brainrot lol <3 happy reading

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground.

No, that’s a branch.

Or is it a plank?

He doesn’t try to find out as he yanks his foot out of whatever stopped him from moving. A tree root, he finds as he kicks the remnants of jungle rubbish from the surface of the shrouded root. He kicks it to satisfy himself.

His crew resides on the beach; where he can see them attempt to build a fire before sundown, the mound of discombobulated twigs making up most of the sad pile of wood. Hoshi trudges up to it and drops another handful of puny branches into the mix.

Exhaling loudly as Mingyu calls for him, he falls to his bottom and sits cross legged on the sand. Mingyu trudges up next to him to inspect his pile, sighing when he realised this was all he had to work with. He picks up two hefty looking stones and begins to strike them together, putting his faith in the primitive fire.

Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute.

Hoshi thinks, which he can’t say is something that he does very often. Perhaps that’s why he was sat on this nature-overrun island as a shipless captain of his shipless crew. He chews on his tongue as he thinks of his Tigress, his beloved hunk of wood and metal; the beloved hunk of wood and metal that he could not see on the shoreline, because she was taken by the royal navy.

He wonders if Tigress would ever forgive him for letting that happen to her, for letting those clean, soft handed soldiers rip her away from his grasp.

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

Mingyu is frantic over the small flame that erupts in the middle of his leaves, dropping his rocks to blow into the fire, encouraging it to grow.

“Captain, it’s done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.”

“Hm.”

The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and they’ve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasn’t moved from his spot for hours, something the others noticed very quickly, but decided not to mention for fear of waking something dangerous. They understood he was suffering from a broken heart.

It isn’t until the first of the crew had begun to doze off that Hoshi speaks. Chan is propped up against a tree while Seungkwan laughs at the dangerously low coconut that hangs above his head. Mingyu readjusts his trousers after a full meal. Minghao stretches onto the sand, feet facing the water.

His voice isn’t loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jest—in fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all.

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand what’s going on outside your quarters. Your room isn’t a mess, all the trinkets and royal seals remaining in their places on the walls and shelves. Nor is the ship lurching or moving in odd angles to indicate an unexpected spat from the skies. A quick peek outside the window shows you clear, calm water amidst the mostly dark expanse of ocean.

There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotion—especially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess).

Slipping out of the covers, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors of your quarters, a small shiver going through your spine from the cold, with nothing to cover you but your thin nightgown. You’re in the middle of tying your robe to see what the ruckus was about outside when a particularly loud thud hits outside of your door. You immediately freeze.

Staring at the doorknob, you attempt to move backwards in the space, heart beating faster as you watch the knob move slightly. The back of your knees hit the bedside table with a thud, the sound has you gasp out loud. Whoever it was outside your door jiggles the knob harder, the force exerted having you scan the room for something you could use as a weapon.

Spotting the letter opener on your desk, you lurch across the room to grab it, holding it in front of you as you back away from the door. The knob continues to bang against the wood as you refuse to take eyes off of it. There’s sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances.

Until the knob moves again, slower this time, a light click that could be heard as it unlocks itself, opening into the low light of your quarters.

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door.

“Lieutenant,” you voice in recognition. “What’s going on?”

He eyes the letter opener that you hold defiantly in front of you from across the room, and it has you retracting your force slightly.

“Pirates, your Highness,” he breathes out. “We must get you to lower deck—”

“Where is the Admiral? The Captain?” you ask as you take a couple steps forward.

“They’re handling the situation, your High–”

An arm has come up behind the soldier that pulls him into a headlock, a swift pull to have him dragged away from your vision. You would’ve gasped if your voice hadn’t been caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known as fear brews in the pit of your stomach. Your hold on your makeshift weapon is tighter than ever before, yet you doubt how it’s going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe.

His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. There’s a deadly looking machete in one hand, the blood that coats it has you eyeing the trail that drips onto his hand and on the floor. His forearms are perched up on the doorframe as he inspects you, tongue to cheek as he stares.

Threatened as you feel, there was less hunger in his gaze as you had expected, more like he was trying to figure out who you were. He eyes your tiny letter opener you hold like a knife and lets out a little exhale you think might be a laugh. It has you gripping the handle impossibly tighter. The man moves his face into the hallway, to where you know the staircase to the main deck is.

“Hoshi!” he yells loudly. “How’s this for bait?”

Your back is pressed inexplicably against the wall, wanting to sink into the wooden boards as you attempt to gain your bearings amongst the nauseous bouts of mortification that surge through you. Your only exit is blocked.

No. You have one more option.

The sound of more men bounding down the hall has you praying there were more soldiers here, but the calm regard the man has for the approaching people has your heart sink to the depths of this very ocean itself.

More faces peer into the room, men with the same haphazard, grimey clothing complete with equally sinister weapons in their grasps. One of the men breaks out into the biggest grin as he lays his eyes on you. You nearly throw up.

For the first time in your life, you wish you’d listened to your father.

“Jun, you savvy motherfucker,” the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back.

Another voice speaks from behind him, “Ships cleared, captain.”

“Perfect. Bring a spring upon ‘er. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.”

Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain.

He regards the rest of his crew as he finally steps through the threshold, waving them away as he enters your quarters.

It was taking everything out of you to not buckle your knees as you stood, every step he takes is turning your strength into dust. He keeps his eyes on you, eyes on your sorry excuse of a weapon. He registers the mix of fear and determination in your eyes.

He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold.

He says nothing as he drops the knife in his own hand to the ground with a loud clang. He removes a pistol, a couple more knives, a grenade and a sword. Weapons drop to the floor one after the other, emerging from all over his body and clothes. All in a pile on the wooden floors. He puts his hands in the air.

“No weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.”

The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You don’t answer him.

He continues, “You can keep your… scalpel… if you so wish.”

“What did you do to the soldiers?” you finally rasp out.

“They’re not dead, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yet?” you ask with a slight tremble to your voice.

“They’ve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. I’m not entirely ruthless,” he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “Admiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, guess not. Daughter? Captain’s wife, Captain’s daughter?”

Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesn’t know who you are. Yet, anyway.

He’s scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. “Can’t imagine giving a lieutenant’s anybody quarters like this.” He circles back on you, eyes sharp. “Who are you, darling?”

You don’t think you have anything that should give you away, but the way he starts pacing the room has your anxiety going through the wooden roof.

He has his back turned to you. You’re not sure if he’s confident or careless considering you could drive your weapon into his back and make a run for it. But then what? By the looks of it there’s an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers haven’t gotten that far; they know you’re still on board, they know it’s their heads on a pike if they leave you here.

He’s reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself.

“Oh!” he announces, a little too enthusiastic. “What’s this?”

He brandishes the loose leaf of paper, and you recognise the print on the back immediately. It was a letter from your father, the King.

“How on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.” He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now.

You wait with baited breath.

“The kingdom needs their princess…your father…ah.”

Should you plunge the knife into him anyway? You almost do it, but stop when he begins to turn around to face you again. His eyebrows are raised, a slight hint of exasperation on his face when he begins to laugh a loud, loud cackle.

It’s mortifying, especially when you don’t understand what on earth was so funny to elicit a reaction like that. The man is downright hysterical. He wipes a lone tear from the corner of his eye as he drops the letter back onto the desk.

“W-what’s so funny?” you try to sound brave.

“It seems, miss princess, that we’ve gotten more than we bargained for,” he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. “You’re the King’s daughter, now, are you? What are the odds the first ship I hop onto with a royal seal slapped on it, held the crown jewel of the kingdom in its gallows.”

And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends.

You know you still have your one last option, the option that is now pressed against your back as you shimmy to it with miniscule movements. The window is cool on your hand that rests on the glass, you know the lamp will be enough to break it, enough for you to push through and fall into the abyss of the dark, dark sea. He knows who you are now, and you’d rather drown than die at the hands of a pirate—or go through whatever it was that’s curling the minds of all the men on this ship.

He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. “He’s not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdom’s favourite degenerate captain.”

What?

He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, “Or least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.”

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi.

The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate that’s been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember.

The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen.

You don’t doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. “Oh God.”

He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul.

This was bad. Very bad.

“Now, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,” he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honour.”

He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. “All you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soon—”

“No.” The word blurts out of your mouth before you can stop it, horrified at the thought of giving information to any pirate, let alone this one.

“No?” Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, “Oh, I see, can’t tell all the delicate details to a scary ol’ pirate.”

He smiles a little bit, “Worry not, miss princess, we shall only need a few minor details. Just enough to have your father sprinting to get you out of here. We all win.”

He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel.

“Well, I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, I’m sure we’ve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you for the rest of the morning.”

Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. He’s calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.

A ransom, but whatever for? Gold could’ve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like he’d chosen to hop on a ship belonging to the navy. Come to think of it, as much of a nuisance this man has proved himself, you don’t remember a case where he’s directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this can’t just be for gold.

Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, “What do you want from my father?”

You watch as he halts in his tracks, halfway through the door as he finally looks over his shoulder. The look on his face has you wanting to break open the window immediately and let the water flood in, once and for all as you take these bastards down with you.

“Your father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,” he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that he’s locked you in.

Your knees give out almost immediately, dropping to the ground as you breathe in quick, shallow breaths. Trying to look past the dizziness, you try not to think about the last thing he’d said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did.

The first rays of morning sun are beginning to shine through the windows, casting the beginnings of a glow in your quarters. You think of the supposed assurance he had given you, that they wouldn’t hurt you, that they intended to return you.

The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one that’s tucked itself into a front corner of your mind, you can almost hear your father's voice as he says it; never trust a pirate.

You remain on the floor, and you remain wide awake.

THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work.

The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You can’t be entirely sure your soul has come back to your body, but whatever little of it that has landed is whispering some very dangerous things.

The lamp remains, the ornate jewels glinting almost enticingly in the afternoon light. The flame inside it has long died, but you itch to give it another purpose. You don’t note the trembling of your hand as you reach for it, pushing yourself to your feet as you get a feel for the heavy hunk of glass and metal in your hands.

If there was a level of regard before, it disappears when you set eyes on the bright window and the creases of crystal blue water. With all your strength, you don’t think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away.

You go again, harder this time, and only vaguely register the glass of the lamp that shatters into your hands. Gripping the metal bit tighter, you swing for the third time, pulling back for the strongest blow yet.

A hand wraps around your elbow and you’re yanked backwards, landing on the floor. There’s a kick at your hand that’s flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself.

You don’t register a thing as you’re suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place.

“Didn’t think I scared you this bad.” He’s made a joke, but all you can see is his face that’s a mask of rage.

The initial instinct is to move away, pulling your elbow out of his grasp in an attempt to flee. You fail as he tightens his grip to a painful degree, hauling you towards the ajar door of the quarters.

It’s only then that you realise that there’s more people in the room.You note another big, burly man next to the window you just assaulted, inspecting it with another shorter man. You don’t get to note more as you’re pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesn’t take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is.

Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that you’d mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then there’s a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you.

The pirate captain pushes you against a mast, one of his other minions rushing in with coils of rope on his shoulder. The sun beats down on the deck, not a gust of reprieve from the wind.

“Keep the ropes tight, she’s got less wit than I’d thought,” the pirate captain says with a grunt, huffing as he lets go of you. He takes a few steps away, hands at his hips, the image of vexation.

The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, “Stop moving.”

But you can’t, not when the panic is near the lip, not when all the possibilities are flashing gore filled images into your vision. It's scary to blink.

“Why won’t you let me die?” you ask to the back that’s turned.

He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. “Why won’t—Because you were trying to take us all with you!”

“Kill me!” you all but scream. “They won’t know till you’ve gotten what you want, I’d rather be dead than let you try whatever’s brewing in all your sick heads!”

He’s silent for a moment, noting your defiant gaze, your pull against the ropes, the heaving of your chest. Taking a few steps forward, Hoshi seems to be attempting to bring the boil in his blood to a low simmer, “Listen, princess. We’re pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadn’t decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you would’ve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.”

The pirate captain’s face is closer than you’d ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. “We may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.”

When he finally pulls away, you take a breath and thank the air that simply exists, eyes downcast as you attempt to look braver than you feel.

“I’m not pushing you overboard. I’ve duped your people once, they’ll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while you’re in our hands.”

“How are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,” you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was.

“Your useless Admiral’s taken up that job.”

“By lifeboat? You’ve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?”

“They could’ve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.”

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

“Do I need to gag you too?” he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. You’re left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths.

Everything he said has a good enough chance to be a complete and utter lie. Never trust a pirate. No weapon to cut yourself out of your impossibly tight binds, nothing to protect you or give you reassurance besides a pirate’s word—the worst pirate’s word.

Your battered thinking leads you straight through the setting of the sun, the orange glow of the sky shrouding the ship in the dreamiest backdrop while you live what you can only sum as a nightmare. Perhaps not, for you doubt your mind could ever conjure up a terror like this.

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all.

Having managed to wiggle your tied hands downwards, you had seated yourself with your head against the wood of the mast, staring into the translucent skies. So much freedom that taunts you in its illusion of proximity, yet so far still.

There’s murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life you’ve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument.

“Obviously this wasn’t part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbag’s successor, that’s just our piss luck and nothing more.”

“You wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.”

“Hao, I wanted a woman for bait to trigger a lukewarm reaction, this princess could either doom us all or make our job a fat punch easier, and I’m not betting on the latter.”

There’s a pause.

“If only she’d cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.”

“Pray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.”

It’s like you’ve woken up with the way the stupid idea begins to form in your head. You think of your father, the kind of man he is, the kind of ruler he is. All the ‘if’s are guiding you to a conclusion. One that gives you a fighting chance, one that may go beyond this massive navy ship and clear into the rest of your life—if you make it that far anyway.

Your father and his men would come, give this unhinged pirate what he desires so dearly, you know that for sure. But you also know it wouldn’t be for you, but for the crown that’s destined to fall upon your cursed head.

If it’s his ship that he wants…

The next time you see one of the pirate captain’s goons on the deck, you ask for an audience.

“DID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?”

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull.

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?”

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.”

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?”

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully, “What?”

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest.

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit.

Is he about to cut your hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt.

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long.

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level.

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?”

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.”

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard.

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope.

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.”

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion.

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.”

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed.

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused.

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour.

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it.

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. He’d left you untied, and as you gaze into the duned waters in the minimal light, the urge to jump in and create a ripple that goes beyond just the water is less tempting than you’d thought. The prospect of having a dead father, and a dead king, was enough to snap you out of your hysteria despite it being a plot of your own devising.

You’ve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasn’t much that you knew of sailing or ship handling, but leaving the deck unmanned for this long gave you the vague impression that you were on a vessel with poor practising pirates. If they’d thought you’d be equipped to handle any hiccups, they’d either find out the hard way, or whenever it was that you could find the wit to bring it up to the pirate captain and his strangely attached crew.

Something that sounds distinctly like boots are thudding gradually up to the main deck, the unmistakable blond of the pirate captain himself coming into view. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but the low thuds are sending your heart racing, panic overcoming your senses for a brief moment before you recalibrate. It’s only then that you realise it’s been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime.

He’s disturbingly nonchalant, hand at the sheathed hilt of the dagger at his hip, a casual glance around at the empty abyss of ocean and sky. When he reaches the far end of the deck, right above the prow, he stops.

“Are you going to push me off the rails?” you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another.

“No.” He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable.

“Have you thought about what I said…with your crew?” you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support.

“I did.”

“Do I sense an objection?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat

“Not exactly,” he says. “We want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.”

He’s asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.

You aren’t sure how he figured it out, perhaps it was the slight darting of your eyes as you thought of a response, but he seemed to read you like a book. He snorts loudly, “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“You’ve done this before, you’d know better.”

“And if I led you astray?”

You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, “Then you lead me astray.”

“Your contentment with death is wildly unsettling.” There’s a ghost of a sneer at his lip.

“I’d rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.”

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. “I’m not trying to set you up if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I doubt you’d have that capability,” he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it.

As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didn’t have that trait. You blame all the dependency your father’s fostered into you, ensuring that you couldn’t rule without his influence.

“Are you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,” you say, sounding almost disgruntled.

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

He’s made himself familiar with the ship, you soon realise, as he leads you right downstairs to the lower deck towards the war room. When he opens the door, the room is lit with lamps, casting a golden glow on the reddish interior, warmer than the rest of the ship.

“Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid,” he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin.

You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. It’s slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise they’re all from the Admiral, his directions and plans of course littered across the table. Turning towards the map on the walls, you lift a finger to trace the lifted ridges of snow capped mountains, trailing towards the dipped shallows of the blue water.

It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and you’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that you’d been away from home for too long, but the end result of what you're about to do, regardless of the outcome, would change your life forever.

You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.

There’s a creak at the door, and you quickly retract to find the pirate captain back at the door, walking in with a trail of men behind him. You recognise them by their faces, watching as they all take their places in the edges of the room. They look relaxed. You note the pirate captain taking his place behind the main drawing table.

“Your throne, miss princess.” He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. You’re hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat.

It only lasts for a moment. You walk up to the chair with what you hope exuded confidence and take your place across from the pirate captain. His men circle the edge of the room, and you count five other men.

He sighs, “I think introductions are in order.”

“Mingyu, Minghao,” he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open.

“Jun,” he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong.

“Seungkwan and Chan,” you recognize the latter as the one who’d tied you to the mast at his captain’s command.

“They’ll be helping kill your dear father.”

It’s silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. You’re reminded you haven’t eaten or drank for hours, not since one of them had come up with a tray of whatever they could find for you from the reserves.

“I know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versa—” You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. “But I’m willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.”

“Would it not be easier to lock him up instead?” someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map.

“He has too many people indebted to him, too many that are too loyal for their own good. I cannot truly rule for as long as he’s alive and well.”

“And how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?” the pirate captain asks with a raised brow.

“Which is why it needs to look like an accident.”

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question—”

“We need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.”

He doesn’t look too happy but he answers anyway, “My ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.”

The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, it’d be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is.

“Is five hundred thousand all I’m worth?” you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You aren’t sure what prompted it but you don’t want to fight it either.

“Didn’t know I was bartering for a fucking princess’ case, did I?” he snaps. “Now tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.”

“We need to blow up his ship.” To your surprise (and maybe even a little horror), the pirate captain breaks into a slight grin. Neither do you miss other bits of his crew releasing a bit of a snicker.

There’s a flare of defiance within you, “Do you have any better ideas then?”

“No, no. Go on,” he says with his head hung. You’re surprised he has the character to shield his smile.

“He doesn’t frequent the seas but I’m almost sure he’d be present at the exchange.”

“Almost?” he questions.

You hesitate. The combined chance of needing the crown home and seeing to the downfall of his enemies would be enough warmth to send him to the greenlands himself. You were confident, but your father could also be unpredictable.

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.”

The pirate captain lifts his head, locking eyes with you. You try not to look as weak as you felt, as unsure as you felt, pooling all the remaining confidence into your face.

He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. “How big are we talking?”

Jun looks up like he’s only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, “What?”

His captain sighs before replying, “Explosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?”

The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. “If it’s anything like this one, we’re gonna need a lot of ammo.”

“Just enough to sink it,” you speak before you could decide not to. “Even better if they don’t realise it’s happening.”

He thinks for a moment. “We could plant it in the bilge somehow.”

“But how do we get on that ship? When they’re giving us a tour of the lower decks?” The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs.

“Throw a grenade on board somehow?” you hear one of them suggest.

“Real subtle, Chan,” you hear another mock.

The war room is in shambles before you know it, loud voices talking over threats to slit throats and to shove people overboard. The room is humid and it feels as though the light from the oil lamps are fading. You close your eyes amidst the utter chaos, rubbing the heel of your palm on your temple in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein.

“Enough!” The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long.

Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach.

It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you weren’t completely losing your mind. The ship begins to rock harder as the seconds tick by, everybody in the room seemingly still as they perceive the change.

“Batten down the hatches,” the pirate captain says to no one in particular.

Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before he’s interrupted.

“All of you. Those clouds weren’t looking too nice up there, we’ve got a storm on our hands.”

By everyone he surely did not mean you, because as the room rushes out and you hear the thuds of boots clamouring up to the main deck, you’re left alone with the captain. Yet again.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how he’s able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isn’t long before your chair begins to slide as well, the legs croning as they slip on the hardwood. You spring up on instinct, hands coming to the bolted down drawing table to stabilise yourself.

The pirate captain seems unphased, moving the curtains on the far end to try to get a glimpse at where the water breaks. He steps like he knows exactly where the evermoving floor would be, barely glancing below to gauge his footing.

“Shouldn’t you be up there?” There’s effort in your voice, your grip on the table as hard as ever as the ship banks to a hard left. He barely grabs the wall in support.

“Huh? They can figure it out themselves, they’re big boys,” he grunts.

“Your big boys were at each other’s throats a moment ago,” you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch.

“If you weren’t so ill prepared they wouldn’t need to use their brains, that’s always dangerous,” he shoots back. He’s on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its place

“I gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, I’m not—ah— I’m not supposed to be planning at all!”

“Are you?” He’s turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. “Because trying to murder a—”

“Trying to murder a King isn’t a normal task,” you finish for him in a hiss. “Yes, as you’ve reiterated a million times.”

“Great, so you know!” Sarcasm is a deadly look on him, you realise as he walks over from the cabinet to where you were in the middle of the room. The waves have given in, the rocking becoming significantly slower. “Now do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?”

Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. “I should just hand you over.”

“It’s sweet you think you’re in charge here,” the grit in his voice is evident. “This isn’t your turf anymore, miss princess.”

“You don’t trust me, and you don’t give me reason to trust you—ugh.”

The waves seemed to have decided she hadn’t had enough just yet, this particular lurch sending you hurtling backwards into the wall, back hitting the hardwood as the stable pirate himself loses his footing. You could almost believe you’d landed sideways with the gravity that’s lost its way beneath your feet.

The chair you were once sitting on is hurtling towards you with a vengeance, gaining momentum as you simply watch it approach like a wooden bullet. A boot clad foot kicks it to the other end and you realise the pirate captain’s gotten hold of his bearings before you have.

“What happened to being transparent with one another?” he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet.

There’s another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before you’re hurtled into the cabinet that had moved again, and now slams back into the wall with the weight of the sea and two humans with a bang!

“Fine. You give me your ammo to blow up the bilge, let me on the ship with my dear father and one of you scoops in and saves me before I drown with him,” you yell over the sounds of clanging and banging of everything on this cursed ship, and the whooshing and thunders of the skies, winds and water. “And if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?”

“On the bottom of the seabed,” he deadpans. “But that also leaves me without my freedom.”

You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and he’s looking at you too. He looks away towards the door, already making moves to walk out and join his crew above deck. The conversation was over, and it was evident in your lack of reply.

Mother nature, however, sends another one in as a surprise and you're both sent flying to the other end of the ship, yet again.

There’s a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captain’s chest, hand above his heart in your instinct to save yourself any more bruises. Between your bickering and the staggering of the ship, his shirt had flown open nearly down to his navel.

Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. It’s insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth.

“If you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you could’ve just asked.”

Whatever airborne drug that’d been willy nillying in your noggin seems to spin into a rage as his words register a moment too late. Clenched jaw and a vice grip on his shirt, you spit back.

“I don’t ask for things. They come to me.”

There’s a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms.

Expect you don’t feel it, because he’s ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline.

Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.

“Captain! One of the—oh.”

A barely balancing Mingyu, is staring into the now dimly lit war room, his captain and their supposed prisoner pressed against one another in a dark corner of the room.

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards.

“Get back up,” he snarls, already pushing past you to stalk towards the door. He actually makes it this time, shoving Mingyu into the hall towards the stairs.

Not as much as a glance back before he slams the door shut, leaving you in the tattered war room alone, shards of glass at your feet.

THE STORM SEEMS TO have done its damage as it calmed itself for the rest of the morning and well into the day.

One of them had come down and escorted you to your quarters, Chan telling you that you could keep it while the rest of them adjusted in the other cots and quarters aboard. Changing out of your ragged, days old clothes felt luxurious, the familiar scent of your quarters putting your tense shoulders at ease; or at least a semblance of such.

Neither you nor the captain have attempted to speak to each other after the incident in the war room. Having berated yourself for letting your guard down enough, you chalked it up to the lack of food and sleep and put the matter to rest in some deeply buried chest in your head.

For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you haven’t completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye.

You aren’t sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless you’ve slept all the way to the Green Islands the banging on the door seems incessant enough to warrant an arrest of its own. The sleep is slow to leave, and it’s hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isn’t making it easier to push it away from the entrance either.

By the time you’ve wrenched the door open, you’re thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan.

“Oh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,” he says, looking genuinely relieved. “I thought you might’ve….anyway.”

“You weren’t trying to break in before?” you ask.

He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, “Captain said to give this to you.”

Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, “Oh.”

“Um. That’s it, sorry for waking you up.” He makes a move like he’s about to turn around and leave but falters. “If…if you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.”

And then he’s gone.

You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside.

When you peer up your tiny window, it’s late afternoon and the beginnings of orange on the surface tell you the sun is beginning to set. You decide it was a good enough amount of sleep. Setting the tray down on the smaller than usual desk, you find that these pirates do not have a knack for subtlety. Many of your letters and papers are haphazardly stacked and shoved into one corner of the table, very obviously sifted through.

Not that you care too much, there was nothing awfully important that you wouldn't have told them yourself. Ripping off a piece of bread from the tray, you take pleasure in chewing as loudly and as open mouthed as you wished, plucking the parchment at the top of the pile to study.

It’s another one signed by your father, not a question of your wellbeing in sight as he scrawls ink on paper all the incorrect things you did in the Southerner’s banquet last month. If anything, you were glad the stupid Admiral was away from your presence, his incessant habit of reporting your every breath and turn to your father was becoming too much to handle.

This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You don’t brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment.

There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Duke’s son. Our kingdom needs a ruler that’s strong, not one that forgets where she is after a sip of brandy!

If you squint hard enough, it almost reads as a parent scolding a child for a spill, like regardless of what you did, he might just love you the same.

You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this.

Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason he’s given you to believe that you’d be a hopeless ruler, a few years ago you even questioned why he kept you around before realising his contradicting intentions. As you read, letter by letter, you think of reasons you know are going to make you a better ruler, better than him and better than his stupid court of old men.

These pirates are a blessing, you think, and you aren’t about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.

HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isn’t. On his butt on the sleek floorboards of the ship, his own golden dagger glinting in the sunlight as it's held in a threatening hold, except it isn’t in his hands.

It’s pointed right into his jugular vein, held by some grimy sailor who considers himself something akin to a pirate. Perhaps the stench this sorry excuse of a crew carries around may be their idea of a criteria, but as Hoshi remains inches away from death, all he can think about is the atrocious fingers around his dagger, and all the scrubbing he’s going to be doing after this is all over.

Mingyu had warned him, told him to take down the flag of the navy from the mast, the royal seal in the smack middle of the ginormous thing. He brushed it off. He wasn’t quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because he’d forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get.

They were taken by surprise, their only weapons mops and buckets of soapy water as they were ambushed by some overlooked wherry that had suddenly thrown hooks over their railing and climbed up like uninvited sewer rats.

In the initial confusion, interrupted mid-chorus of some pretty siren and her pirate prince, the first few intruders had simply crumpled over onto the slippery deck, a few slipping overboard completely from the suds and water on the wood. His crew, and Hoshi himself, could only stand and watch as the newcomers sabotaged themselves for a few incredulous moments before they gained their bearings.

Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash.

Hoshi slips out his dagger with practised ease, swinging the butt of the hilt over the head of another ambushing intruder, right on the head as he crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. He kicks him over for an indication of where he came from. No ink that shows an alliance, no brooch or jewels with a crest.

New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes.

Hoshi’s crew had better senses than required for him to yell out orders, and it only took a few more disgruntled minutes to disable the remaining extra men aboard.

“Where the fuck did these guys come from?” he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed.

Minghao, who’s peeking over the railing replies, “It’s a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didn’t have one at all.”

He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. “Disgusting.” Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didn’t want it anymore.

Hoshi’s mistake was keeping his guard down, because before anyone could warn him, the dagger that he held loosely against his hip had slipped out his palm. The next thing he knows, his neck is in some grimy sleeve’s grip, and the point of his dagger is lodged into his own throat. He holds his breath, afraid he might pass out completely from the stench alone.

“Not a move.” He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. “Everybody into that fishing boat. I’ll throw this one in when you’re done.”

He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi can’t try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and it’s the end. His crew can’t do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons.

It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when he’s weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this.

His crew looks at him, and he can only close his eyes in encouragement. He watches as Jun steps over one of the defeated bodies to reach the hooks that’ve lodged into the railing. His movements are slow, and he can tell he notices the unhinged nature of this boy that he doubts is barely over 17.

Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. He’s stalling.

“Hurry!” It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy.

And then Jun stops completely, his eyes trained on Hoshi. His eyes are wide, his grip on the rope so tight he can see the whites of his knuckles from the other side of the ship.

No, he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, there’s a loud bang of a gunshot, and Hoshi feels the body of his captor slump against his back, his dagger dropping to the ground with an ominous clang. He falls with him, turning over to push the dead weight of the body off of him.

There’s smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life.

You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Jun’s revolver, clenched tightly in both hands. It remains frozen in the air, hovering as he takes in your face. Eyes wide, mouth open slightly, the colour drained from your face.

Hoshi scrambles to get up as the rest of the crew swarm both him and you. He grabs his dagger before anything else, looking back to see a bullet lodged in the back of his captor’s skull, blood pooling the deck.

He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Jun’s hands eagerly, like you didn’t want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot.

He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest.

You just saved his life.

“Are you alright?” he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly.

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks.

“Uh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought it’d be safer, you were handling it and I didn’t want to get in the way. But then…all your weapons were there.”

Your voice sounds airy, like you were in a daze. Hoshi comes to the stark realisation that this may have been your first time with a weapon, and then even more horrifying, your first kill.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand and—”

“It’s alright,” Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks.

It was like the shock turned you into a different person, complacent, less defiant. Seungkwan clearly had more of an emotional range, because it certainly took Hoshi too long to realise you might be on the edge of panic.

Hoshi doesn’t say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesn’t realise he’s staring into space until Mingyu interrupts.

“Should we—”

“Throw them overboard,” Hoshi says, voice flat.

“But, this one seems like he’ll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever next—”

“He’s a shit seaman, if even a pirate, he’s got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.” Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. “All of them.”

Hoshi slips his dagger back into its sheath at his hip. All he can think about is your blown pupils and you in your nightgown. All he can think about is how they were almost bested by a child. All he can think about is how you had to make that final shot to save his ass, that he couldn’t do it himself.

Mingyu senses his mood and asks no more questions, simply pushing the remaining bodies out into the water. He vaguely registers Minghao sending the men a prayer into the sea. Mingyu’s already trying to get the stupid naval flag off the mast, stripping off his jacket and disposing of it at the base to start climbing.

Chan pushes a clean rag into his chest, and he looks down to receive it and notes a tinge of blood at his collar. Right, he was bleeding.

They go back to cleaning, except it’s a lot more silent.

Jun walks back up to help, but this time he has both of his clean, black revolvers strapped at his hip.

THERE WERE FEWER PEOPLE in the war room this time around, the captain sits beside Mingyu, Jun and Minghao as they attempt to sketch out a crude rendition of your discussion. The pirate captain does nothing but use his dagger to pick under his nails, barely speaking as he listens in on the conversation.

Not that you cared, you and the rest of his crew seemed to get along better than you did with the captain anyway. Saving the man’s life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.

“Keep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so you’ll know I’m not trying to sink the wrong ship,” you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesn’t reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature.

“We need to port in the next couple days if I’m gonna finish this grenade in time,” he says, looking at his captain pointedly.

“We can stop at Port Ash,” Hoshi says.

Port Ash was no man’s land, which also meant it was every man’s land.

Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didn’t speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself.

“That’s not gonna be till a week and a half,” Mingyu interjects.

Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, “I can’t wait that long.”

“We’ll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,” Hoshi replies.

“But—”

“Deal with it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan.

“How much manpower do you think the king’ll have?” he asks.

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “I have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.”

“Not even an inkling?”

“Considering how he wants the lot of you gone, it’s probably on the larger side. But…” you pause.

“But?”

“He’s smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he catches us blind.”

“I know enough about that,” Hoshi snorts. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you don’t press.

“I was wondering…we should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might intercept—”

“Did that. Didn’t take the obvious alternative route either,” Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. “We can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.”

“We should be careful of other boats anyway,” you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. “Those other sailors could’ve been my father’s men too, for all we know.”

“They were on a smaller boat too,” Hoshi adds, he looks like he’s making connections in his brain. “What’re the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?”

There’s a pause as you absorb what he’s implying. “Are you saying they’re on our tail?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He’s done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.”

“How did you shake him off last time?”

The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy.

“Circling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldn’t cross paths.” He shakes his head. “But we can’t do that now, not when we can’t afford detouring. The port stops are as late as I’m willing to go.”

“What if we skip Hasry? It’s our more obvious stop, we’ll just stop at Ash later,” Minghao suggests.

“We’ll starve, we’ve got no food,” Hoshi gruffs.

“Portwater?”

“Too far.”

It’s silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didn’t know the names of harbours or ports this far out.

“We’ll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, there’s nothing we can do.” Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum.

He gets up and walks around the table to the door, “I’ll update the others.”

You glance as he walks past you, his figure leaving a gust of wind in your face. He smelled nice, which was saying something considering the state some pirates are known to be in. As he brushes past, your gaze is met with the other side of the war room, an empty oil lamp bracket on the wall.

The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful they’re all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory that’s flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he’d do something as dumb as dish out his captain’s ‘affairs’.

You file out the room with them. They don’t escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps they’d realised you weren’t actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didn’t matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway.

Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours they’d been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You don’t realise what you did till it already happened, noting the smile on his face as he did it. You choose to move past it and find the captain.

There was something you wanted from him.

There’s no trace of him on the main deck, eyes scanning the area to no avail. A movement from above catches your peripheral attention, eyes squinting as you crane your neck up to look. Hoshi has leaned his back against the railing of the crow’s nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight.

He isn’t using it though, merely gazing at the horizon with furrowed brows. As though he could see better without the device in his hand. In the few minutes that you’re looking at him, you notice the muraled, multicoloured shirt that blows with the wind, a kaleidoscope of beiges, greens and reds. The crop of his blonde hair blends in with the clear blue-white sky.

Briefly wondering how he’s managing the impossible heat, a hand coming over your own eyes as a visor, you simply look back down. Seungkwan is next to you. You aren’t quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face.

“Is there anything you want when we dock? We’re trying to make a list,” he says. Somehow, the prospect of pirates making lists boggled you a little. It was a little jarring, not quite sure why he asked a captive anyway.

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

“I don’t think so, no,” you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. “Thank you for asking.”

“That was your first kill, wasn’t it?”

“What?” You knew what he was talking about, but you weren’t expecting him to bring it up in the moment when he’s asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face.

“That day, when you used Jun’s revolver to shoot the lad.”

A kid. He was a child.

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

“What made you do it?” he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever.

“I—I don’t know, it looked like there wasn’t another option,” you say, not quite sure of yourself either.

Why did you shoot him? You’d never laid hands on a gun before, your father forced you into the category of archery and crossbows, not that you were very good at them either but it was also because you simply wanted to spite your father by being plain bad. It worked, because it only took a year and a half and an arrow straight into his study window to retire from the sport entirely.

Even then, your targets had been apples, barrels and tree trunks. Never a person.

You’d heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didn’t seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway.

But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head.

So you pulled the trigger.

“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”

“I know.”

BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry.

It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway.

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you.

“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly.

You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve.

“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.”

He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you.

The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back.

The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out.

He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks.

“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”

Hasry. Right.

The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher.

You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them.

Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized.

Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch.

“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said.

“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention.

The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging.

When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop.

You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.

“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused.

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows.

“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”

You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices.

There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side.

The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand.

Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups.

You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer.

Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make.

“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”

The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size.

“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”

She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”

You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”

“Ten coin.”

You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again.

“I’ll do seven!”

You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp.

“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks.

The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.

But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm.

By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left.

“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”

You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits.

“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”

“Princess?”

It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you.

Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here.

If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley.

“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet.

Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market.

The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father.

There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand.

The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.

It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall.

“Are you alright?”

Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze.

“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own.

“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe.

“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”

Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas.

The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless.

When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean.

“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.”

The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market.

“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.”

You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality.

“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most.

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer.

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market.

You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known.

“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”

You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to.

Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”

He smirks.

ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air.

“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”

It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you.

“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it.

It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway.

The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him.

He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.

“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”

Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects.

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts.

Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above.

He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand.

There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away.

There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it.

“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”

Oh.

“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.

“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand.

“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says.

You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck.

“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”

You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it.

You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.

“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”

“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse.

“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.”

The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right.

“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”

He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands.

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.

“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”

You remain silent.

“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.

“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”

He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.

“You’ve looked into my eyes?”

The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck.

“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”

You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form.

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass.

But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs.

Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip.

Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck.

“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”

“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing.

Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone.

That could’ve been your throat.

“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again.

That could’ve been your throat.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving.

It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again.

Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air.

You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all.

It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so.

There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing.

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back.

“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth.

“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort.

You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of.

Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done.

You just pushed Chan overboard.

You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs.

“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck.

Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know.

By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle.

With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense.

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position.

“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well.

“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?”

Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”

Hoshi pushed him into the water.

You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean.

Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice.

“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”

To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours.

The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day.

“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck.

In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat.

Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes.

Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters.

Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this.

Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress.

You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it.

It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes.

The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident.

Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.

“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?”

Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”

“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun.

Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away.

At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”

Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”

The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping.

He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you’re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it.

The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled.

“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab.

“Make me what? you grind.

You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain.

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise.

And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.

[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol

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jimxnslight · 5 months ago

Text

Fool's Gold || Part II

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. gun/physical violence, blood, dead bodies, etc), very vague indication of past sexual assault, additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

A/N: thank you guys so much for all the love you gave the first part, it means so much to me 🥺 Hope you enjoy this chapter too (Y/N and Jungkook bicker for like half of it 💀)

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It was supposed to be simple.

You kill Jungkook, breaking up the alliance between the Lees and the Jeons, blame his murder on a rival mafia, and then be on your merry way back to your father’s home before you could be caught up in the chaos you’d have started. Sure it hadn’t been the most complex of plans you’ve come up with, you hardly had the time to map out a plan like that anyway, but sometimes simple was all one needed.

Unfortunately, this had clearly not been one of those times.

The problem was Jungkook. Your first husband had been an idiot and completely fooled by your featherbrained facade, so much so that even after you’d stolen the gun from his waistband and shot him twice in the chest he’d stared at you like you’d grown two heads. He just couldn’t comprehend the fact that a seemingly frivolous girl could have the courage to pull the trigger. Even after what he’d tried to do to you. After he almost-

You felt a shudder sweep across your spine.

But Jungkook was different. He had been assessing you the second you appeared before him during the wedding ceremony and, even though he had seemed to take in your carefully crafted performance, his gaze still refused to complete its assessment. At first you thought it was just lust -most men in the mafia couldn’t seem to be rid of that tenacious emotion- however, the lack of sexual initiation on his part despite being alone together in his room made you realise that perhaps Jungkook was a lot less like the mafia leaders you had grown up with than you realised.

For one, he was scarily observant, and it was this skill that had ultimately led to the downfall of your assassination attempt.

A huff escaped your lips at the thought, your hands continuing to expertly manoeuvre two pins inside the lock of the door you were currently crouched in front of. You had stayed sat on Jungkook’s bed the entire night, too wary to even attempt sleeping in the bedroom that was entirely unfamiliar to you. You half expected Jungkook to sneak into the room while you were out cold and enact a fitting revenge; you’d be unable to even blame him, you’d tried to kill the man after all. But Jungkook hadn’t left the mystery room all night, only emerging once the clock had struck 7 in the morning to wordlessly grab a black coat from the top of his dresser and disappear behind the front door with nothing but a single, hasty glance in your direction.

Your brow had raised as you watched him get into his black car and drive off through the window, wondering how he could just leave you unattended in his home after the threat you had dropped near the end of your conversation earlier. Sure he probably had people monitoring his house at all times, but there was still a lot you could get done in front of people that wouldn’t suspect the girl with fluffy dresses and doe eyes to be much of a threat.

Luckily for him though, you were beyond tired, and that meant that his absence was just a window of opportunity to get some actual rest without the constant fear of his retaliation keeping you awake. So following a long yawn, you had naturally felt yourself drift towards the bed, eyeing the soft duvet and fluffy pillows sleepily. But then, before you could lose yourself to the comfort of his mattress, your curious gaze had slowly wandered to the door Jungkook had disappeared behind last night and, next thing you knew, you were crouched in front of its gold lock and jabbing two pins into its keyhole.

Your focus snapped back to the door before you as a familiar click sounded from the lock, causing it to swing open just a few centimetres. You pocketed the two pins, muttering a small “finally...” while your fingers wrapped around the gold handle. But before you could push it open, the muffled sound of an object dropping suddenly startled you. You whirled around, eyes immediately scanning the bedroom with intense precision as your hand grabbed the closest thing to you: a vase. Had someone managed to get into the room without you knowing? Perhaps you weren’t as observant as Jungkook seemed to be, but you’ve never been so absentminded that you could’ve been this caught off guard-

“Oh my god,” you gasped abruptly, a recollection surfacing as you quickly placed the vase back on the bedside table and scurried over to the closet. You couldn’t believe you had forgotten something so important… She must have been waiting in there the entire night.

You hastily threw open the closet door, gaze scanning the space until it finally fell on a small shadow peeking from behind the white and fawn island. The black shadow stood still for a moment, as if identifying the intruder, before the familiar cat sauntered out of the small space, black fur gleaming under the light. She looked up at you with an expression that eerily resembled a scowl.

“Hi Persilla,” you cooed, crouching down to run a hand apologetically through the creature’s fur. Persilla evaded it at first, almost punishing you for forgetting her in the small, dark walk-in closet for the entire night, but eventually she gave in, purring as she brushed her soft tail against your still bare legs. While you could understand being stuck in a place like that for hours might’ve been slightly uncomfortable, she really had no right to act like that after how damn hard it had been to have her smuggled into Jungkook’s house without alerting anyone. It had been a huge risk, one that you might have a little trouble justifying, but you swear there was just something calming about her presence and you needed that desperately, especially in such a foreign place.

“I failed to kill him,” you frowned, watching as Persilla’s feline eyes raised to watch you, “which means we’re going to have to stay here a little longer than I thought.”

You pulled yourself from the floor, shifting your focus back to Jungkook’s mystery room as you felt a pang of irritation hit you. You needed Jungkook dead, the delay in his death getting in the way of everything you’ve been working towards. Yet here you were now, stuck in the house you thought you wouldn’t be spending more than a night in.

You cautiously walked over to the door you’d lock picked earlier, taking special care not to step on Persilla as she skittered between your feet, before grabbing the handle and pushing it open. The room turned out to be a seemingly simple office, which you found unsurprising for the most part. There was a wall full of books on one side, a glass cabinet of liquor wedged between its centre, while another wall was made up entirely of glass that showed off an enormous portion of Jungkook’s estate. It was the large desk to your right that really caught your attention, the sight of a map sprawled over its smooth surface particularly piquing your interest.

You walked towards the glass cabinet first, pulling out a crystal glass and a bottle of whiskey to pour yourself a drink, before you walked over to the desk and glanced at the map curiously. Persilla jumped onto the surface, circling the piece of paper like a predator surveying its prey.

“It’s a map of the North,” you noted, taking a sip of the drink in your hand momentarily as you recognised the illustration instantly. You’d spend months studying a similar map back home before marrying Jungkook after all.

Handmade lines ran throughout the northern portion of the country, separating the territories run by different mafia leaders. You recognised Jungkook’s territory first, one of the bigger ones in the region, while Taehyung’s was right next to his, both of which were detailed with the locations of different landmarks: docks, hotels, residential areas, etc. You noticed that the other territories hadn’t been labelled like that, with the territory above Jungkook’s labelled “Park Territory” simply containing one or two locations and the territory labelled “Min Territory” containing no locations. There was a region above those two territories that hadn’t even been labelled at all, similar to your own map of the North back at home.

“Aside from Taehyung’s territory, Jungkook doesn’t seem to know much about the northern region. I guess we’re similar in that aspect,” you muttered, speaking to Persilla as if you were giving her a report of the current situation. She turned towards you, tilting her head for a moment before she nudged the corner of the paper with her paw. You narrowed your gaze at the action, deciding to flip the paper. To your surprise there was another map, this time illustrating the southern portion of the country; the one where your father’s territory, the Lees, was situated and where you’d grown up your entire life.

You smiled at Persilla, scratching under her chin while she purred in delight at the attention. What would you do without her?

It was surprising to see this map so much more detailed than the first, you thought, taking another sip of the whiskey in your hand. While Taehyung’s territory had been the only one littered with details in the northern region, all the territories in the South were full of details upon details. You could make out each one labelled with its respective mafia leader, a number of important locations, and even predictions about possible actions each leader might take in the future, all of which you could confirm to be highly accurate.

You flipped the map back to how it had been initially, gaze raising to move onto scanning the rest of the room while Persilla dropped to the floor quietly.

“How could Jungkook know so little about the northern region, yet so much about the South?” You thought out loud, tracking Persilla’s movements as she began pacing around the room. He was clearly great at collecting intel, the amount of information he had on the southern region was evidence of that, yet the North, his own region, was practically blank aside from Taehyung’s territory. Having grown up in the southern region yourself, you knew it better than the back of your hand. So if Jungkook had grown up in the North, how could he know so little about it? Was there some kind of history between the mafias in the North?

Like your thoughts, you began absentmindedly drifting towards the enormous bookshelf, fingers brushing against the hardcover spines.

If there really was history between the northern mafias, then knowing that history could be useful. Once you killed Jungkook and blamed his death on Park Jimin, there would be war between the Jeons and the Parks, and since the Kims and Mins are allied with the Jeons and Parks, respectively, it would be a full on war of the North. It’s that kind of instability you were aiming for, but knowing the more personal history of the northern mafias might help you create further tensions between the alliances, making things even more unstable. It would be perfect; the messier the better. That’s what your ultimate plan called for. That’s how you’ll finally-

You suddenly came to an abrupt stop, your fingers freezing as they came in contact with a particular book. It was a hardcover, just like the others, entirely black aside from the title, which had been written in bright gold, and the off-white pages.

Persilla was back to skittering between your ankles once again, as if sensing the change in your thoughts. Her soft, black tail brushed against your bare legs as you delicately brought out the book with both your hands, wide eyes scanning it almost in disbelief.

The Choice of a Nation.

It was the book that had changed your life. A fictitious book about a protagonist that lived in a world of human rights, justice, and structure. A world where everyone, more or less, was defined by their achievements and hard work rather than who they were born to.

Reality was far from that. It was an enormous country cut up into territories based on which mafia leader ruled it. It was having to grow up watching innocent people be slaughtered because of petty disputes between said mafia leaders. It was watching people from mafia families be automatically rich and educated and powerful while people born to those under their rule automatically be poor, uneducated, and stepped on again and again and again. You were taught that this way of living was normal, that it was the only way of living in this world.

Reality was something you’ve always found difficult to come to terms with because of this, because despite being taught the normalcy of such a way of living, it never seemed right to you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of people’s entire lives being dependent on who they were born to, something that wasn’t in their control. If you were born a servant, you and the rest of your generations would stay servants forever. If you were born a mafia leader, you and your future generations would stay in power forever. Your sentiments made you feel alien when you realised no one else around you seemed to share the same thoughts, so much so that you started wondering that perhaps you really were being too unrealistic.

But then came The Choice of a Nation, a book that introduced to you concepts like governments and elections and courts. It was all entirely fiction, every term having to be explained in great detail to be understandable, but all that mattered to you was that it was doable. Having different levels of governments, having a justice system that judged everyone fairly no matter who they were, and having the people decide who they want leading them. It was realistic.

And you’re convinced that the mafia families knew it too, because despite its fictitious nature, the book was immediately banned the second it was published, while its author had been killed just as quickly. You yourself had only gotten your hands on the book out of sheer dumb luck. Distantly you wondered how and why Jungkook had this copy.

After that you had become dead set on making the book’s world a reality. But in order for things to go as you’ve planned, you need things to be unstable, because unstable things are weak. The South has always been like that, with mafia leaders constantly at each other’s throats. You doubt any of them even know what the word ‘alliance’ even means. It was perfect for you.

The North, on the other hand, was a bit different. There were two alliances and the most northern region was a complete mystery to you. At first, you were stumped with how you were going to weaken the region, but then the opportunity had presented itself when your father had announced your hasty marriage to Jungkook. And once again, it was perfect.

All you needed was Jungkook to be dead, and the rest would fall in place just like you’d planned.

A meowing noise suddenly sounded from your feet, causing you to look down and find Persilla standing on her hind legs, her front paws brushing against your bare shins repeatedly. Her impatience was clear as day, making you smile.

“You’re right, that’s enough snooping for today I think,” you nodded, running a hand over her small head while the other clutched the book firmly, “you deserve some expensive salmon for being such a good girl.”

As if she understood your words, Persilla dropped to the floor and purred, rubbing her furry body against your ankle. You gave the room one last look, as if expecting to find something else worth surveying, but ultimately decided you were way too tired from your all-nighter to continue on.

At this point in his life, Jungkook could say with certainty that he was a pretty patient man. He wasn’t born with the trait, if anything impatience seemed to have been stitched well into his personality the second he’d entered this world. But, over time, he’d learned to get rid of the pesky trait and replace it with the much more effective and fruitful quality that was patience.

Yet, not even all those years of cultivating the characteristic could have prepared him for how late Kim Taehyung was.

Jungkook had been standing at the West docks, hands in the pockets of his long, black coat, since 8:00 AM in the morning, waiting almost 4 hours for his friend with furrowed brows and an unimpressed frown. He’d left the house as early as appropriately possible, partly because of your presence and partly because of the urgency in addressing the dock’s issue. Now it was almost noon and Taehyung, who’d promised to be here by 9:00 AM was still nowhere in sight.

An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he felt the ocean air breeze through the nearly black strands of his hair. Taehyung being late had given him more time to think about earlier this morning, when he’d shot you a glance before he was out the front door. You looked like you hadn’t slept a wink, which Jungkook could relate to, but he supposed that was for the best. You’d threatened to kill him at the end of your conversation last night, so having you sleep deprived would probably work in his favour.

Not that you could really do anything anyway. Jungkook had made sure to set guards in every entrance to the kitchen and stripped the house of every weapon that wasn’t locked in a hefty safe. There was no way you could get your hands on any kind of gun or knife, so he was pretty confident that you couldn’t be a threat to him at the moment. Though, the memory of your fiery eyes from last night had seemed so determined…

“What are you smirking about?” Taehyung asked as he strolled along the boardwalk, making his way towards the younger man.

Jungkook’s scowl instantly returned, causing Taehyung to raise his hands in surrender, “it took Chaewon and I a whole hour to get Suho to bed, who’s also sick by the way. Cut me some slack, man.”

“I told you guys to stay over at my place and not some hotel,” Jungkook chastised, feeling bad for the little guy. He made a note to send some sweets to their hotel room when he got back, “the maid could have helped you guys out.”

“The newlyweds deserve to have the house to themselves,” Taehyung waved him off before he smirked, “besides, I didn’t know how freaky you guys were going to get and I couldn’t risk Suho hearing, he’s way too young for that stuff.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, motioning for Taehyung to start following him. They started walking along the boardwalk, Jungkook’s hands still shoved into his coat’s pockets while Taehyung’s were covered in black leather gloves.

“Okay,” Taehyung said, “I’m just going to ask one question, and then we’ll drop it and you can explain this whole dock’s situation to me.”

That earned him a raised brow, but the lack of the younger’s refusal spurred him on.

“What do you think of her?”

Jungkook didn’t answer for a moment, mulling over his reply before he finally answered.

“She’s fine.”

He didn’t know why he wasn’t telling Taehyung the truth about you, about how your entire ditzy personality was a front and about how hellbent you were on killing him to get a divorce. Maybe it was because he didn’t really see the need to. Jungkook had concluded that you were only trying to kill him because you wanted a divorce, allowing you to go back to whichever boyfriend was waiting for you back in the south.

“Your words are saying she’s fine, but your face is saying you’re mad,” Taehyung noted with a brow raised. But Jungkook waved him off, ready to end this conversation and get onto more important business.

“Anyways, as you know, the Parks decided to attack the West docks last week,” Jungkook began, pointing towards his left to show Taehyung the damage sustained. One of the enormous warehouses, which collectively formed a neat line leading farther than his eye could decipher, had caved into itself, its walls charred almost entirely. The two warehouses by its side seemed more salvageable, with only a wall or two affected by the evident fire that had taken place. Construction workers could already be seen surrounding the area, hard at work to replace the damaged structures.

Taehyung nodded as he took in the scene, “an attack at the docks… they’re checking to see how strong the Jeons are at the moment.”

“They’re doing it because they want to know if they can take over our territory.”

That was the standard protocol after all. When a mafia attacks another mafia’s docks, it’s usually because they want to test how weak or strong they are and whether they can take them over or not. The fact that the Parks pulled something like this right after their alliance with the Mins was no coincidence to Jungkook.

But to his surprise, Taehyung paused, as if mulling over Jungkook’s words. He watched Taehyung’s gaze drift over to the vast sea on their right, a contemplative look shadowing over his eyes before they flickered back to Jungkook.

“Is that really what you think Jimin is doing?”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowned, “this is the textbook procedure for taking over another territory.”

When Taehyung didn’t answer him, Jungkook placed a hand in front of his chest, blocking his path so the two could stand facing each other as they spoke.

“I’m just saying,” Taehyung finally explained, “it seems a bit out of character for him. Wasn’t he always the one that was going on about how dumb it is to want to take over other territories instead of cultivating your own?”

Jungkook scoffed, “yeah, in university, which was years ago. Jimin has changed since then.”

Taehyung’s lips formed a grim line at the animosity in his voice.

“Look, I know you both-”

“No,” Jungkook cut him off quickly, knowing exactly where this conversation was going, “this isn’t the hatred from what happened years ago talking. Jimin has changed, and I have the evidence to prove it.”

Jungkook turned around to resume his earlier path, Taehyung walking slowly behind him as they passed by the workers sighing in relief at the cool breeze of the ocean and large ships anchored alongside the piers. In a matter of minutes, Jungkook had led him to the entrance of an enormous warehouse. Taehyung’s brows furrowed when Jungkook turned around to face him, a grim expression washing over his strong features.

“When the Parks attacked the docks last week, I managed to prevent them from seizing control of it by bringing out some old blackmail. Obviously I didn’t think it would hold them off for long if their plan really is to take over my territory, but I didn’t expect them to retaliate so soon,” Jungkook explained, “nor did I expect them to retaliate in this way.”

He turned back to face the warehouse's door, hand wrapping around its handle, “the night before my wedding, I was called to the docks because some of the worker’s had found something in this warehouse.”

Then he turned the handle and pushed the door wide open, revealing its inside.

“This is what I found.”

It was awful.

The entire warehouse was full of dead bodies, some thrown haphazardly on the ground while others were thrown over the equipment spanning the room. Taehyung could make out bodies of men, women, and even some children -he couldn’t look at them for too long without thinking of his own son- all of which had clearly been killed in varying ways. Some looked like they had been burned, while others looked like they’d been thrown into a blender. Being in the mafia, Taehyung was no stranger to blood and gore, but this… this was too much, even for him.

But then his gaze caught onto a wall in the far corner of the warehouse, particularly the sight of dried blood smeared against the grey metal. He took in each stroke of red, processing each letter it had been made to resemble until he could read what had been written.

“‘We’re coming,’” Jungkook read out loud, keeping his stoic gaze fixed on Taehyung.

He shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, “I knew Yoongi was brutal, but I never could have expected he’d be capable of… this.”

Jungkook’s gaze drifted around the room, grimacing at the scene before him.

“Jimin and Yoongi clearly aren’t who they used to be,” he concluded, looking towards Taehyung for confirmation. Thankfully, Taehyung nodded this time, gaze becoming hard as he agreed without protest.

“Well, they’ve warned us that they’re coming,” he said, gesturing towards the bloody message, “what are we going to do about it?”

Jungkook motioned for Taehyung to follow him back outside, where the air didn’t smell like death and the sights didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin.

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with one of the unaffiliated gangs located in the West in about an hour. As long as we pay them well, they’ll do just about anything for us. Having extra manpower should tip the odds in our favour. Not to mention, I’ll make good use of the Lees.”

Taehyung nodded as he watched Jungkook close the door of the warehouse, “are you going to contact Jimin first?”

“No,” he shook his head, beginning to walk back to the parking lot alongside Taehyung, “I’ve had a headcount done and it doesn’t seem like any of the people in the warehouse were one of ours. I think the Parks were just trying to send a message to scare us.”

“I’ll get a headcount done for my people too just in case,” Taehyung said, to which Jungkook agreed.

Once they had made it back to the parking lot, Taehyung turned to face him.

“I was thinking of heading back to my territory tonight, since I have a few things I need to take care of,” he explained, opening the door of his bright orange car before leaning against it casually, “but Chaewon wanted to have a late lunch or dinner with the bride and groom before we left. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jungkook’s interest piqued as a thought suddenly came to mind. This would be a good opportunity to assess how you and him were going to act like a couple in front of others. If the two of you failed, it would be fine since it was just Taehyung and Chaewon, two people that he trusted with his life. Then you and him could learn from the experience and hopefully get it together before having to make any public appearances.

“Does 6 work?” He asked, to which Taehyung nodded.

The two then exchanged quick goodbyes, Taehyung explaining that he should probably get back as soon as possible to get things in order, before Jungkook watched as he got into his car and drove off, standing for a few minutes until someone came to stand behind him.

“Sir?”

He turned to find a man bowing in his direction, waiting for permission to speak. Jungkook motioned for him to go on, already getting an idea of what this was about.

“Our informant within the Lees just contacted us,” he explained, “he said that Lee Y/N’s father believes his daughter to be a frivolous and naive girl, her sole purpose being to marry someone that will benefit the Lees.”

Jungkook nodded at the news. So you had been telling the truth when you said that you’d fooled everyone, including your father, with your performance… Distantly he wondered why you would decide to resort to such an act.

“Have there been any talks of betraying this alliance?” Jungkook asked, to which the man shook his head.

“The informant said there were none. Lee Y/N’s father seems dependent on this alliance to protect himself from neighbouring mafias. The South is quite unsettled in that aspect.”

“I see, and have there been any talks of Y/N having some sort of significant other in the Lee territory?”

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, “the informant said that there weren’t really any talks of that… but he did mention that before your marriage, when Lee Y/N was still living in the Lee territory, he’d accidentally overheard a hushed phone conversation she’d had in her bedroom. He couldn’t make out what they had been talking about, but he was able to confirm that the voice on the other line was male. The informant hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but since you’re asking now, he decided it would be safer to let you know just in case.”

It could have been anyone, hell, you could have been talking to a relative or something, but Jungkook’s mind went straight to his initial theory. It made sense, especially considering you wanted a divorce so badly. He couldn’t really think of any other reason besides your heart already belonging to someone else… even though you were his wife.

“Sir? Was there anything else?” The man asked, causing Jungkook to reel in his scowl.

“Contact Lee Y/N’s father and schedule a meeting with him as soon as he can,” Jungkook said, “that’s all, thank you.”

The man bowed, instantly scurrying away from sight to get to the assigned task, while Jungkook turned to start making his way to his car.

For some reason, his mood had suddenly soured.

“So we finally get to meet the famous Y/N.”

You smiled shyly as you walked into the grand dining hall, automatically taking in the spiralling chandelier, marble floor, and dark brown dining table filled with formal decoration pieces. Only after this assessment did you let your gaze fall on the two sitting on the dining chairs; the first one you already knew to be Taehyung, who was dressed in a rich grey suit, while the other was a woman -you automatically assumed she was Taehyung’s wife considering the maid had told you you’d be dining with the two today.

She had been the one that had spoken, but the first thing you noticed when your eyes landed on her was that she was gorgeous. Her straight, long black hair and hazel eyes sparkled under the glittering light of the chandelier overhead, while her dark maroon dress fit elegantly into the rich ambience of the room.

As she stood from her seat, you felt yourself automatically tense. Back in the South, the wives of mafia leaders were always vicious and constantly at each other's throats, a reflection of their husbands’ animosity towards each other. Now that you were married, you supposed you’d have to be subjected to the same, but the only difference was that your ditzy facade would bar you from being able to fight back. Whatever Taehyung’s wife threw at you, you’d have to take it.

But after she made her way towards you, her actions as smooth as silk, you were surprised when she pulled you in for a quick and formal embrace.

“The wedding was absolutely beautiful,” she praised, even the flow of her voice silk-like, “and of course your dress, it was exquisite! You must tell me the designer you went with- or perhaps it was all just your figure. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.”

For a moment all you could do was stare at her; this woman… she was being so… nice. Too nice, if you were being honest. It was a little unnerving, instantly making you sceptical of her intentions. Perhaps the wives of northern mafia leaders were more cunning in the way they sniped at each other? They greeted each other politely during occasions, but behind the scenes they would attack each other to obtain what they wanted? But then again, what could anyone possibly want from you? To them you were just some featherbrained girl that dressed like a fancy pastel tablecloth.

You’d decided to still dress the part this evening, with a fluffy light pink dress that fell right at your knees and a matching silk ribbon tied into a bow pulling up half your hair, even if you didn’t know for sure how much Jungkook would have revealed to Taehyung. You had the feeling that Jungkook wouldn’t tell him anything, since it would work in his favour having the least amount of people knowing, but you’ve also heard how close the two men were so it wouldn’t entirely surprise you if he had.

Taehyung certainly was staring at you like he knew your secret. Unlike his wife, he stayed seated at the dining table, offering you a polite greeting from there instead, but you could recognise the calculating nature of his gaze as clear as day. He was assessing your every movement as you interacted with his wife, which made you straighten up. It wouldn’t be the biggest deal if he did know, because who would believe him if he went around spreading that kind of news, but if he didn’t, then you would have to up the quality of your act.

“Has Jungkook told you anything about us?” Taehyung’s wife asked as she took the seat next to her husband once again, while you decided to take the seat across from her, “ah- who am I kidding? You’ve only been here a night. I’m Chaewon and this is Taehyung, he’s the leader of the Kims.”

You nodded, making sure to keep your voice light and airy, “you’re pretty.”

She tried to hide it well, but the comment had Chaewon’s eyes flickering to her husband for a moment. It was better that you started dropping a dumb comment here and there to really seal the ‘dumb as rocks’ trait.

Chaewon quickly recovered from the surprise, letting out a breathy chuckle, “you’re sweet, but you’re so pretty yourself. I love the light sparkles you’ve added to your lids, it’s such a subtle but dainty thing.”

Her tone was so formal that you couldn’t tell if she was passively mocking you or not. You would’ve preferred she just pull a gun on you or something; it would be way less confusing than sitting here and trying to read between the lines of her words. Confrontational individuals were dangerous, but individuals who planned their strikes in the shadows were the real threats. You’d know that best.

At that moment, before you could reply with an even dumber comment, the sound of the door opening caught everyone’s attention. You turned just to catch Jungkook closing the door behind him, his hair slightly damp, likely from a shower, and dressed in a simple black collar shirt tucked into matching black dress pants. He paused at the doorway, scanning the room for a moment until his eyes dropped on you.

Your brows furrowed when he held your gaze for a second longer than normal, a hidden question in your expression. He looked almost thoughtful, an idea clearly waltzing through his mind, before he finally started making his way towards the three of you.

You thought that was the end of the odd moment, and that Jungkook would finally initiate a conversation with the other two sitting at the table as he pulled out the chair next to you. But just as he was about to settle into the soft cushion, he stalled for a second, turned to face you…

And then placed a quick peck on your cheek.

You froze, shock making your limbs rigid as you used every bit of your self control to stop yourself from instinctively flinching at the action.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jungkook apologised as he casually plopped down into his seat, gaze fixing on the couple before you.

But Chaewon smiled, a graceful hand going to her chest.

“Aww look at how flustered she looks, aren’t they just adorable, Taehyung?” She said with a smile. Your hands instantly went to your cheeks, annoyed to find them burning underneath your palms.

Before you could think much of it though, the servers started spilling into the room to place steaming plates of food before you all. This evening’s menu seemed to be seafood themed, with plates of crab, lobster, and shrimp filling the initially empty surface of the dark dining table. It made sense to you, considering almost half of Jungkook’s territory bordered the ocean.

Once the plates had been placed, a server stepped beside you, bringing out a bottle of red wine to pour into the empty glass beside your plate. But you brought up a hand to stop him.

“Not a fan of wine, Y/N?” Chaewon asked as she noticed the gesture, and once again the ambiguity in her formal tone made it hard to tell whether she was mocking you or not.

You shook her head in response, “I don’t like alcohol, it tastes gross.”

Yes, ditzy Y/N didn’t like alcohol, but the real Y/N was seriously craving that expensive whiskey you knew Jungkook had stashed in his office at this very moment. He clearly had good taste, it was a shame you’d had to drop a gram of lethal toxin into the bottle before you’d left the room and passed out on Jungkook’s bed for nearly two hours. You scowled inwardly as you remembered how much more you could have slept had it not been for the maid who had woken you up to give you a tour of the house and then helped you get ready for the early dinner you and Jungkook were supposed to have with Taehyung and Chaewon.

“I apologise ma’am, is there anything else I can interest you in instead?” The server asked, moving the bottle of wine away from your glass. You mused over your answer for a moment, before you smiled up at him.

“I’d like some banana milk, please.”

Once again, Chaewon subtly threw an unreadable look towards Taehyung, but this time she wasn’t alone as Taehyung and Jungkook each threw their own odd looks in your direction at the wildly childish choice. Back when you first started acting naive your reaction would have consisted of an intense feeling of embarrassment washing over you, but now the others’ reactions only seemed to amuse you. Although, you were inwardly groaning at how gross having seafood alongside milk was going to be. But the show had to go on, didn’t it?

Taehyung cleared his throat when the server returned with a wine glass filled with banana milk -you had to pinch your arm to stop yourself from laughing at that- before he turned to face Jungkook, eager to break the awkward silence that had ensued.

“I hope you both enjoyed your wedding present, Chaewon spent so long on making that gift basket I thought it was going to be for your one year anniversary,” he joked, causing Chaewon to playfully slap his shoulder.

“I just wanted it to be nice,” she defended instantly, “we’ve known Jungkook for years, seeing him get married makes me feel like a proud older sister.”

It was such a contrasting sight seeing two mafia families be so fond and at ease with each other when you’d grown up seeing the southern mafia families at each other’s throats constantly. Chaewon seemed so comfortable here, and even though Taehyung was mostly quiet -you were starting to think he was trying to decipher the relationship between you and Jungkook with the way he kept staring back and forth between you two- even he didn’t seem to be guarded despite being in another mafia leader’s territory.

“We enjoyed the basket, thank you,” Jungkook said, bringing your focus back to the conversation. You watched him lean back in his seat as his gaze drifted to you, the ghost of an amused look haunting his features, “the champagne particularly was quite the ice breaker.”

You’d tried to kill him using that bottle and yet here he was practically mocking you about it not even 24 hours later. You threw him a sweet smile, as if you were reliving a fond memory, hoping he would pick up on the hidden glare in your gaze. But that only made his grin widen.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Chaewon clapped, not seeming to pick up on the tension between you both, “I wasn’t aware of your distaste for alcohol though, Y/N. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind in the future.”

You faced her with what you hoped was a grateful smile, “it’s okay, I really liked the scented candles.”

It had actually been Persilla that had been obsessed with them, the vanilla scented one seeming to be her favourite.

The dining room was mostly quiet following that, the four of you finishing up your food in a comfortable silence. Inwardly you were gagging at the combination of shrimp and banana milk you’d decided to torment yourself with. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, every few minutes or so you’d catch Jungkook trying to suppress a sly grin, the man being the only one in the room, to your knowledge at least, who knew the reality of your predicament. You scowled, annoyed by his satisfaction until an idea came to mind.

Well, you could always hit two birds with one stone.

You reached over your plate to grab your glass of banana milk, bringing it towards yourself to give the impression that you were going to drink from it. But at the last moment, you let the bottom of the glass catch on your plate, causing the entire thing to tip from your fingers. It clattered onto the table, splashing all over Jungkook’s plate and seated form, making him flinch.

You instantly gasped dramatically, hands going to cover your mouth and eyes widening as you squeaked, “I’m so sorry!”

With Taehyung and Chaewon’s focus shifting to the spill on the table, the roll of Jungkook’s eyes went unnoticed by them.

“It’s okay, it was only an accident,” he forced out, pushing his chair away from the table’s edge and widening his thighs to evade the rest of the milk. You had to hide your smile behind your hands as you watched the no doubt cold milk seep into his pants.

Taehyung picked up the box of napkins, which had been near his plate, and held it out to the younger man, causing Jungkook to stretch over the table to receive it. But just as Jungkook grabbed the box, you noticed Taehyung’s brows suddenly furrow, his eyes seeming to stay fixed at a particular spot on Jungkook’s neck.

You followed his gaze curiously. The first few buttons of Jungkook’s black shirt had been undone, revealing a sliver of his collarbone and chest, but as Jungkook stretched you noticed the fabric shift to expose more of the area, which you realised was covered in red patches that looked a lot like… hickies. You and Taehyung weren’t the only ones that caught this as you noticed Chaewon smirk, her gaze travelling between you both.

Jungkook himself was the last to notice the stares as he pressed some tissues against the wet material of his pants, most of which was prominent on his lap. Yet when he did notice them, even you knew that Taehyung and Chaewon’s questioning looks wouldn’t allow for him to get out of this without an explanation.

You expected him to wave them off with a lame excuse anyway, like it was a rash or he’d burned himself somehow. You could call Jungkook many things, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy that enjoyed making suggestive jokes or conversation. Nor did he seem like the kind of guy to divulge in his sexual escapades.

But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead he paused, similar to earlier when he had entered the room, and seemed to think something over. Then his gaze dropped on you, and the mischief in his eyes gave you the odd feeling that you should prepare yourself for what he was about to say.

You should have listened to that feeling.

Jungkook broke his eye contact with you, his lips twitching into what suspiciously seemed like a smirk, before he turned to face Taehyung and Chaewon.

“I guess Y/N got a bit carried away earlier.”

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped open as Chaewon gasped, her hands instantly going to her chest as if she couldn’t believe it. From your peripheral vision you could make out Taehyung slumping against the back of his chair, as if he had finally given up on trying to figure the two of you out.

“Y/N! I would have never guessed you were the freaky type,” Chaewon laughed, her gaze seeming to take you in a different light. Your hands curled into fists under the table.

Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing by dropping a comment like that, and you were far from stupid enough not to see it. By insinuating that there was a more suggestive side of you, he was slowly starting to break down your performance of an innocent girl capable of doing no wrong in the eyes of others.

You’d promised to kill him, and now he’d seemingly decided he wanted to kill the image you’d spent years cultivating.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself as Jungkook’s hand hooked under your chair to drag it towards him, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder when he was close enough. Even in the midst of your subdued anger you noticed just how close the sharp cut of his jawline was in this position, and not to mention the tiny mole under his bottom lip that you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s okay, princess,” he said, sounding sweet but you knew it was meant to be mocking, “you don’t have to be shy in front of them.”

You were going to kill him. You were going to shoot him so many times that by the time you were done with him he was going to look like a giant block of swiss cheese-

“Well, we should probably get going,” Taehyung said suddenly, his eyes focused on reading something on his phone before pocketing the device, “I think Suho is starting to get fussy again, plus we should get going if we want to get back home before it gets too dark.”

Taehyung offered a hand to Chaewon to help her get up from her seat, a classy smile gracing her lips as her gaze met yours, “that’s our son by the way. You must meet him the next time we meet.”

“I would love to. I love children,” you said with a tight smile as you and Jungkook got up from your seats, exchanging polite pleasantries all the way to the front door.

“You know, that’s not very surprising to me,” Chaewon commented while Taehyung looped an arm around hers. You waved to each other with smiles, watching him guide her into an orange car before driving around the fountain and disappearing through the tall gates.

The second the front door closed your smile dropped, replaced by an annoyed scowl that you threw in Jungkook’s direction. He regarded you as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know about the North, but in the South we have this thing called personal space. You should try it out some time,” you said, to which Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever seen a married couple have personal space? Really Y/N, must I explain the birds and the bees to you?

You huffed as he walked past you, climbing up the stairs casually while you started following behind him.

“Why does it even matter if people know how dysfunctional this marriage is? We’re married, how is that not enough?”

It really did not make sense to you why he was so dead set on selling this image of a perfect marriage to others. Back in the South, there was not one marriage a mafia leader was a part of where it wasn’t in complete shambles, and that was very public knowledge to everyone in, and even outside of, the territory. Yet, that didn’t seem to affect the level of control or power the southern mafia leaders had. So why was Jungkook making it out to be such a big deal?

But the question stopped him in his tracks, causing him to turn around on the stairs to give you an incredulous look, as if what you had asked was almost alien.

“I don’t know how it works in the South, but in the North it very much matters,” he said slowly, gaze fixed on yours, “we must present ourselves as perfect in every aspect of our lives, or there are a number of enemies that would have no problem taking advantage of even the most miniscule flaw.”

You scoffed, “that’s dumb.”

Jungkook turned away from you, not bothering to comment on the mindless remark, as he continued to resume his path up the stairs. When he finally made it to the top and walked up to his bedroom’s door, he pushed it open and walked inside.

Your breath instantly stalled as you followed behind him, gaze darting around the room quickly to see if Persilla was anywhere in his sights. You knew you didn’t need to worry, Persilla was a master of remaining unseen, she’d managed to hide from everyone in the house when you’d been living in the South with your father after all. You’d even opened the door to the balcony slightly, allowing her to roam outside freely if she wanted to, so she might not have even been in the room anyway. You exhaled slowly, successful in convincing yourself that the little black cat you’d grown to care for and love would be fine.

Jungkook’s breath, on the other hand, came out as a low huff when he noticed the balcony door ajar. He walked over to it quickly, closing it before giving you a chastising look. One you ignored obviously.

Instead you casually turned away from him to enter into the bathroom, grabbing a few makeup wipes before returning back into the bedroom and plopping yourself down on the fluffy duvet of the bed. You began wiping off the various light sparkles and pinks that softened your face, as if you were taking off a doll-like mask.

“You’re an annoying little thing, aren’t you?” He commented as he watched your nonchalant demeanour.

Then it was your turn to watch him disappear into his closet for a moment, the muffled sounds of clothes moving around reaching your ears, before he emerged in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black short sleeve t-shirt.

But you particularly noticed his right arm, which was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos ending just above his wrist. The ink travelled over the smooth ridges of his skin, taut from the firm muscles underneath. Your gaze immediately dropped to the small trash can next to the bedside table, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, as you focused on throwing the used wipes into the bin.

You then leaned back on the mattress, arms holding you upright, trying to get your focus back on track, “I like how forgetting to close the balcony door annoys you and not the fact that I want you dead.”

That made Jungkook smile, amusement clear in his eyes, “I’m still standing here though, aren’t I?”

Your reply was quick.

“It won’t be for long.”

“Right,” Jungkook nodded, his words laced into a patronising chuckle, “but while you’re working on that, I need you to actually act like my wife. We’re lucky Taehyung and Chaewon didn’t notice anything, the public won’t be so inattentive.”

You tilted your head, “yes, I wonder what the public would have said about the hickies on your neck.”

Jungkook mirrored your movements, the edges of his lips twitching.

“I think they would be glad to be under the impression that we’re hard at work trying to produce an heir.”

“That’s only if your side piece stays quiet.”

“Careful, Y/N,” Jungkook tutted, “you sound almost jealous.”

“Jealous?” You repeated incredulously, sitting up straighter with an evidently offended expression, “your girl is sleeping with a dead man walking. Is that something to be jealous of?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, continuing to direct an amused gaze in your direction, before he turned away, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, “relax, princess, there’s no other girl. I just went hunting earlier and got a few mosquito bites. Nothing more.”

“It doesn’t make a difference to me,” you shrugged before falling back onto the mattress, the softness of the duvet making your limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. The position caused your dress to ride up to the middle of your thighs, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. He looked away when he realised he was staring, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the bright moon outside the window.

“We may be as far from in love with each other as the moon is to the earth, but I still won’t risk messing around with others outside this relationship,” he said. There was a pause after his words, as if he were expecting you to say something, but you let the silence ensue. There really was nothing you wanted to add anyway.

A noise made you lift your head, allowing you to see Jungkook unlocking the door to his office before he turned his head to you, “just get used to whatever happened at dinner today. There will be much more where that came from in the future.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the room while locking the door behind him. Jungkook immediately walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a crystal glass and a bottle of whiskey to place them on the desk.

The loud clink of the glass against the wood of the desk made Jungkook frown, annoyed by his getting annoyed at your lack of reply. Yet, it was evident that he was indeed irritated by it. Of course you wouldn’t agree not to mess around with others, you had your ‘boyfriend’ waiting for you back in the South.

He certainly wasn’t messing around with anyone. After meeting Taehyung at the docks, Jungkook had gone to meet with the leader of an independent gang in the West, who, to his distaste, was a huge fan of hunting. So naturally they’d met in a forest to hunt for a few hours, before Jungkook had convinced the man to be at his disposal. Jungkook has always been prone to mosquito bites, but that day the mosquitos seemed to have taken a particular liking to his neck and arms, despite what Taehyung and Chaewon might have thought.

It didn’t matter to him, though, that you had a boyfriend. Yes, it really didn’t. He was just annoyed because if someone found out about him, then Jungkook’s reputation would take a hit. The news would spread like a wildfire, and the outcome would be far from good.

He didn’t even know how well you could hide a secret like that. What if you slipped up somewhere? What if the dude did? It would be a disaster.

Jungkook placed his glass down, the whiskey momentarily forgotten as he grabbed his phone and leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen in thought. This was for the good of his leadership, not anything personal. Yes, that’s right.

Mind made, Jungkook quickly dialled a familiar number, waiting barely a single ring before a male voice sounded from the device.

“Hello sir, was there something I could help you with?”

Jungkook’s fingers wrapped around the glass on his desk, “tell the informant I want him to investigate Lee Y/N’s room at the Lee mansion. I want to find out everything we can about the man Y/N was talking on the phone with before our marriage, and if there’s anything else unusual I want to be informed of it as well.”

“Yes, of course sir,” the voice said immediately, “I’ll let him know as soon as possible. Is that all?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, thinking over the question. This had been an impromptu call after all.

Stuck in his thoughts, he brought the glass into his hand, swirling the liquid in it for a second before taking a modest sip.

His reflexes acted before his mind did; the second he registered the hint of a metallic taste he lurched forward, spitting the liquid back into the glass in a matter of a second. Even with that little exposure he could start to feel his tongue burn slightly, causing him to instantly open the drawer of his desk and grab a water bottle. The water soothed his mouth as he quickly swished it between his teeth before spitting it out and repeating the process a few times.

“Sir? Sir?! Is everything okay?” The voice rang from his phone, Jungkook almost forgetting about him for a second. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, it was nothing. That will be all, thank you.”

He ended the call, grimacing in discomfort at the feel of his slightly sensitive tongue against the roof of his mouth. So you’d managed to find a way to sneak into his office. He shouldn’t have been very surprised by that, you seemed to have a talent for getting into places where you shouldn’t.

Jungkook sighed as he eyed his liquor cabinet, realising that he’d have to throw it all. But as his gaze raised, it seemed to catch an empty slot in his bookshelf. Curiously he walked over to it, hand hovering over the hollow space between a book about war tactics and a book about his family’s history.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. You’d obviously taken one of his books, but whether it was for casual reading or for something more he couldn’t tell.

He ignored the pang of pain that rippled throughout his mouth as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, his gaze falling back to his desk. With Jimin’s attacks, he had a lot of work he was going to have to do, and now seemed like the perfect time to get that done considering he was not going to go back into his bedroom, which you had taken over.

He sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

You remained seated on the bed as you watched Jungkook lock the door behind him, leaving you alone in his bedroom once again. You hoped he enjoyed the nice present you’d dropped into his liquor bottles this morning, because you were just about ready to be shipped off back to the Lee mansion and watch your plan unfold in the perfect way you’d outlined it to.

The sound of something tapping against glass caught your attention, causing you to turn towards the balcony. It was hard to spot her in the dead of night, her black fur blending into the dark so well that her feline eyes were the only thing about her you could really make out. But even then, there was no doubt in your mind that it was Persilla trying to get your attention from outside of the balcony door.

You stood, sending a wary glance in the direction of Jungkook’s office’s door, before slowly pushing yourself off the mattress and making your way towards the glass. You paused in front of it for a moment, taking a deep breath before closing your eyes. Your hands blindly felt in front of you, moving erratically in the air for a moment before you could feel the handle between your fingers. You pulled on it, hearing the sound of the door opening as well as the feel of the fresh airy breeze on your face.

The second you felt Persilla’s small body walking between your feet, you pushed the door close, sighing in relief when you opened your eyes.

You crouched down to pet Persilla’s head, scratching against her chin when she purred delightfully. It was only when she moved her head upwards, showcasing her collar, when you paused, your gaze catching onto something white wedged between the sleek leather and her furry neck.

“Do you have something for me, Persilla?” You asked, fingers pinching the thing, which you realised was a folded note, and bringing it out of its confines. You unfolded it, eyes widening after scanning it and recognising the familiar strokes of black pen on its surface.

It’s done.

We should meet soon.

~ H

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Also Jungkook when he finds out about Persilla: 🧍‍♂️

812 notes · View notes

sfehvn · 1 year ago

Text

new religion

Description: AU- Astarion is enamored by you, and while he fights it at first, he may have just found his new religion. A/N: Just a tad bit of sweet smut to be honest. This was my listen while I wrote if you were curious. Enjoy! xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,069 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

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From the moment Astarion had seen you, he knew he had to have you. Walking through the animated city of Baldur’s Gate, your radiant smile was the first thing that had caught his eye. Flowing hair kissed your shoulders adorned with freshly plucked daisies. Your aroma was the most intoxicating scent that had graced his nose in all of his years. Your rose-tinted cheeks teased with the blood flowing beneath your flawless skin. Your eyes sparkled with wonder, reflecting the rays of the sun above. He had never been a believer in the love at first sight nonsense, yet there you were. If his undead heart could beat, he was sure it would be skipping against his ribcage. It was the only time the vampire had found himself utterly speechless.

For months, he watched from afar, finding excuses to go into town. Not that he had to excuse anything to anyone, but the newfound feelings were frightening, to say the least. Alas, day after day Astarion went out, whether for a drink or an unnecessary shop trip, and he would wait to get even the slightest glimpse at you. He was aware that this obsession was snowballing out of his hands as he fell harder and deeper. Hells, he had never even spoken to you. Yet he knew nearly everything there was to know.

He knew every other day you made your way to the apothecary to pick up medicines for your sick father, whom you cared for. He knew once every fifth day, you picnicked in the graveyard next to your mother’s grave. He knew your favorite color was yellow because it reminded you of the summers you spent with your mother before her untimely passing. You had six siblings: an older brother and five young sisters.

Astarion had also realized that you had a death wish, apparently. You were constantly staying out past sundown, running errands or helping neighbors. Did you even comprehend the dangers? He would often think to himself. Of course he had to follow you home to ensure you made it inside safely. You were becoming a liability to him, and quite frankly, he was terrified of how you made him feel. Just when he had decided to end this one-sided arrangement, there you were. Sat on the side of the road with tears pooling rivers down your cheeks, his body felt out of his control as he approached you.

He stood in front of you, his words caught in his throat. You stared at him with those big doe-eyes, and his knees felt like jelly. “Are you alright?” He finally managed out. Gods, what am I doing? I should just sink my fangs into her and be done with it. It’s just bloodlust. This was something he had tried to convince himself of many times already- a lie.

“Oh, yes.” Voice sweet and smooth, like the finest honey gold could buy. “Just this silly book.” You giggled, holding up the novel you had previously been engrossed in before Astarion had found you.

“Right. Good.” He clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure and still his spinning mind. “I’ll just be on my way then.” You nod, gifting that sweet smile to him. Astarion felt his legs would give out beneath him if he stayed longer, but he didn’t move an inch.

The man intrigued you, ruby red eyes and skin pale as the snow that fell during winter. He was gorgeous. An aura of mystery surrounded him, and you were keen to discover those mysteries. “Say, you live in that big fancy manor?” You question, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you two.

“I do. Why?” Skepticism was palpable in his tone.

You disregarded his tone, and he believed it to be your naive nature. “You have the most exquisite daffodils blooming alongside your walls. I didn’t want to pick them without asking.” Your smile is sheepish, innocent. Astarion doesn’t speak, his face unreadable. “I-I enjoy putting bouquets together. I don’t mean to-” He already knew this, obviously.

“They are yours.” Astarion can’t contain the smile that tugs the sides of his lips.

As you two stroll to the location of said flowers, Astarion finds himself loosening up in your presence. He watches you intently, the way you move your hair from your face as you carefully pluck a few from the group. He urges you to take more.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. These are plenty.” You assure. In response, he crouches down next to you to help pluck the remaining flowers.

After walking you home, Astarion ordered flowers to be planted around the grounds. With the help of just a little magic, within weeks, roses, peonies, sunflowers, and carnations bloomed healthily. You would come with a fresh serving of food, a bouquet as thanks, and collect the flowers. As naive as you were, you could recognize what Astarion was doing. The daffodils were a one-off in that area, but now flowers surrounded the entirety of his property. The rate at which they grew, too; you were aware some effort went into getting them to blossom so hastily. At every mention of a new flower, the next time you came, they were miraculously in bloom.

This compromise had been in full swing for months when you finally questioned him about it. Astarion was on his knees as he snipped red roses from the bush, insistent on doing it himself so you didn’t prick yourself on a thorn. “Why are you doing this?” You question, a wicker basket that was already overflowing held firmly in your hands.

“I told you, you’ve nabbed yourself on these blasted thorns one too many times.” His reply came without a look in your direction as he continued to snip the stems.

“That’s not what I meant.” A soft chuckle emanates from behind closed lips. He looks up at you in realization, his hands coming to a halt. Your breath catches in your throat as he stares at you wordlessly, longingly. Standing slowly, he takes a step closer to you. He drops the roses into your basket before cupping your cheeks, closing the distance between your faces. The kiss is electric. You drop the basket to your feet, arms snaking around his neck while he presses your body tightly to his, clinging to you like a prayer. His lips were a colder temperature than you expected, but they were soft and hungry.

That’s how Astarion ended up with you in his bed. As he eagerly ripped the pale blue dress from your body, you took note of the bouquets around his bed chamber. Every single one you had gifted to him was on display and in perfect condition. Your heart flits in your chest, eyes closing in ecstasy as wet kisses trail up the inside of your thighs. A soft moan is elicited from you as his mouth reaches your warmth, his tongue flicking teasingly along your slit. Your fingers thread into his stark white hair, instinctually tugging with every contact against your clit. Colors explode behind your eyelids from the euphoric excitement.

He pulled away briefly, with his starving mouth against your thigh, he spoke muffled words, “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been waiting to hear that, darling.” Your breathing quickens as you look down at him between your thighs with hooded, lustful eyes. His mouth returns to your clit and he suckles lightly, two fingers dipping into your dripping center. The sensation brings your back into an arch, aching to feel him deeper inside of you.

The swirling motion of his tongue brings you close to the edge, your legs shaking mercilessly. Astarion’s free hand moves between his torso and your legs, holding them steady as he continues his work on your body. Just as you are about to cum, he places a final kiss on your mound before his eyes meet yours. “You’re much naughtier than I thought.” He tsked, crooning his neck at you before moving up your body.

Your lips meet passionately, his tongue slipping effortlessly into your mouth to meet your own. He creates a gap between you as one hand holds him up, quickly removing his trousers and undergarments with his other hand. He pressed his bulge down onto your warmth, hitting your sweet spot as he grinds against you. “Do you taste how lovely you are?” He murmurs, plunging his tongue further into your mouth. You can only let out a delighted moan in response.

Once he breaks the kiss, you press your slippery core harder against his erection. “Please fuck me.” You whimper lustfully, “Please-” Your words are cut short by the sensation of him rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, causing a delicate moan to leave your throat.

“Fuck. You’re soaked, my darling.” He coos. As much as Astarion wanted to continue to play with your body, he needed to be buried in you as quickly as he possibly could. He slides the head of his member from your clit, pushing slowly into your welcoming embrace. He savors every sensation as he enters you. There is a momentary flicker of pain on your face as you adjust to his size, and he falters for a moment.

“Have you done this before?” He asks quietly, pressing his forehead to yours, avoiding your throat to save himself from temptation. He cursed himself inwardly for even asking; he shouldn’t care. This woman brought a side out of him he had never met before- a softer side. The scariest part is he actually, well, liked it.

You wavered for a second before shaking your head, confirming that he was indeed the first man to have ever been in such a position with you. The thought makes him feel feral. Such a sweet flower trusting someone like him to take your virtue; he would never admit it to anyone, but honor and pride swelled in his chest. He nodded in acknowledgment, “We’ll go slow, pet.” He reassures, hips rocking delicately into yours as he fills you with as much of him as he can manage without causing you discomfort. He lays a gentle kiss on your forehead as your pain turns into pleasure, still-shaking legs wrapping to engulf his hips.

“A-Astarion.” His name sounded like a hymn gracing his ears from your mouth, and he wanted to devour you right there and then. It took everything in him not to plow you into the bed. His hand rests on the bedframe as he finds a comfortable rhythm, eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to soak up every reaction to his touch.

“You drive me crazy, pet.” He grunts as his pace quickens, gripping the mahogany wood tighter at the magnetic pleasure buzzing through his body. He uses his free hand to effortlessly move you further up into a slightly seated position as his thumb once again finds your clit to draw purposeful eights over it.

“I-I’m- Oh my gods-” The moan is loud, music to his ears as your walls tighten around his cock.

“That’s right. Be a good girl and cum for me.” It’s a stern demand, all to mask just how close Astarion was himself. His words push you over the edge, your body clinging to his for support as the euphoria rushes over you. Every hair on your body standing on end, you throw your head back and scream Astarion’s name thrillfully.

With you coming undone, he allows himself to reach fruition, his seed filling you to the brim. His hand on the frame loosens, and his head hangs, face full of gratification. He looks down at you, pulling his now-soft member from you, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you stretch contently, much like a cat. Your eyes were droopy, a giddy smirk on your face as you fought to keep them open. Astarion chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You can sleep, my darling. I’ll wake you in a little.”

Astarion swore he felt the tiniest tinge of warmth in his heart at the sight of you so comfortable cuddled into his side as you dozed off. This could be a welcome change. Maybe his undead life just needed his very own light, his own sun. All he knew was that he was done fighting it. One weakness couldn’t hurt.

#ascended!astarion x tav #astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x reader #astarion x reader #soft!ascended!astarion #ascended astarion #astarion #smut #x reader #tav #reader #bg3

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trashogram · 4 months ago

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He Chose You (End)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

(There will be a short epilogue after this, but we’ve basically reached the end! Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented and reblogged this fic! I had so much fun writing it!!!)

“ADAM!”

Light from below your feet rose, blinding you as the glassy exterior of Heaven’s floor dissolved into nothing.

The collective screaming, gasping, shouting made your ears ring. It was so loud that you had no choice but to drop the ax to muffle the sound with your hands. Lucifer called for you, but you could do nothing as your senses became overloaded with the sights, the sounds — the smell and taste of angel blood that you couldn’t describe, though it fizzled on your tongue and made your lips pucker.

Falling reminded you of diving into the deep end of a pool as everything around you started to dull just as soon as it reached a fever pitch.

Adam’s corpse bled out, gold dripping into the firelight that swallowed you up.

Sera stood head and shoulders above the rest, shrunken pupils flashing upon you.

Thunder rumbled over your skin.

Your sight returned, revealing a billow of darkened clouds above. Lightening rippled through them here and there, but you found yourself unable to do so much as shiver at the close proximity. Something was keeping you paralyzed, hands still clasped over your ears and legs still stuck flexing as they had when you decapitated Adam.

Eyes flitting about, the only things free from the forced stillness, you saw that the light that overtook you had expanded, surrounding you like a forcefield.

This wasn’t a fall. Not really. Whatever this was was yanking you down with a strength that rivaled gravity.

You can never come back!

Sera’s voice was immediately overtaken by your name, shouted out from above you.

Feathers thrown in disarray, raining on and all around you before you caught sight of Lucifer racing toward you. The frightening sound of a boom like the aftermath of a bomb dropping followed his propulsion, rattling your bones and shifting the energy that cocooned you.

He circled round and round the energy field that you could not escape, until he was right beside you.

Lucifer slammed himself against the barrier between him and yourself. Determination set in his eyes that were now completely normal, totally focused on getting through to you.

You tried to communicate the fear you felt with your eyes. It was steadily consuming you as you remained frozen while color and light changed every few seconds. Everything outside of your comet’s tail was growing darker and harder to define.

When darkness swallowed up the Devil, you weren’t able to scream.

“I got ya!”

Lucifer’s voice broke through before you saw him, crashing into the barrier once again. The light shattered like glass, but you felt solid arms wrapped around your body. Familiar hands gripped you around the shoulders and back, beneath your frozen wings.

You gasped, inhaling greedily.

The blond took your desperate bid to wrap your arms around his neck and press him as close to you as possible in stride.

It was a struggle to speak. “I couldn’t breathe!”

“I know! I know, I know, I remember it being like that.” Lucifer said, hand running through your hair. “But it's gonna be okay! The pain won’t last for too long after you hit the ground.”

You looked at him with watery eyes, lungs burning. “Oh god, Lucifer. I’m so sorry!”

You hugged him with renewed vigor, tears streaming upward. He clung onto you with equal if not more fervor.

“You’re sorry?” He asked. “What d’you… why?”

When you pulled away, Lucifer was staring at you in concern.

“I’m sorry you have to experience this again.” You said. “I didn’t even think about it. I-I-I just, I got so desperate and I just wanted out and I wanted to be with you! I didn’t think—”

The devil instantly shook his head, hand cupping your cheek. “No, no, no. It’s okay, don’t apologize. There’s no reason to—hah…”

Lucifer was also in tears, giving you a wobbly smile. “I’d fall every day until the end of time for you.”

You fell into him then, sobbing in earnest as he kept up with you serenely. You were both careening down through the ether, free falling now that your body had been freed from whatever was initially binding you. And you didn’t have a single thought aside from staying with this perfectly wonderful being that had had the audacity to actually love you.

“We’re headed right for the portal.” Lucifer told you eventually. “We’ll pass right through and into Hell.”

He kept his hold on you, but you couldn’t help noticing that Lucifer had maneuvered himself to be beneath your body in the order of your descent.

“Will we hit the ground?” You asked, the image of making an impact on the hard ground coming unbidden.

The image of Lucifer taking the brunt of the trauma set your heart racing. Your wings twitched. You willed them to start flapping as they had in Heaven but there was only the vaguest feeling of their roots flexing.

Fuck’s sake.

You felt panic bleeding back into your body again and you fruitlessly attempted to pull Lucifer ‘up’. The King started to speak, but the adrenaline was filling you up.

“Lou—!”

A sudden shift from black to red (and warmth, sensation, clouds!) and the sound barrier breaking silenced you.

Lucifer’s full set of wings extended before you, arching back to make a powerful sweep upward before he rolled the both of you right side up again.

You were back to clinging onto him, squeaking. You heard him chuckle in your ear at the same time you realized that that powerful force-field of light had disappeared.

“Sorry sweetie.” Lucifer murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

He hovered in the air with you in his arms, patient as you worked up the courage to pull away and look around.

Hell’s sky was a deep, deep red. Clouds of a softer shade floated past, little pinpoints of light that might be stars pricked the sky, and a large black moon sat adjacent to the teeming mass of light that you and Lucifer had just fallen from.

Below you, slices of angular, beaming light zigzagged in a mildly familiar shape. When your eyes adjusted, it clicked instantly that there was a pentagram poised a little ways from you, and under that…

The pentagram was bright, but through it shone bright lights from the city underneath. Your eyes widened, taking in the chaotic, clashing architecture of the Pride Ring. It was harrowing and strange, the sounds of screaming and laughter somehow audible in spite of the distance.

Amidst the sensory overload you found yourself comparing it to Las Vegas.

Lucifer nuzzled your cheek, bringing you back to the present. Head lifting so that you are able to look at him fully, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Helluva a welcome.” You teased, earning a grin from the blond.

“Ah!” Lucifer startled when you tugged him bodily in your direction. Your wings fluttered quickly with the return of feeling in your muscles, and you glided back with the Devil in your arms.

You spun him round, twirling in mid-air, until Lucifer laughed with you. The two of you danced together over the glowing pentagram as though it were a stage.

——

There was no need to further tire yourselves as Lucifer conjured up a shimmering portal into his castle. You could feel the exhaustion of all that had transpired weighing you down before you were led into what would soon become your new home.

The opulence and splendor of the Devil’s palace could not be understated. It was gargantuan. His personal restroom alone rose higher than high and would have been roomy enough for everyone that had lived on your floor in the Donner apartment.

However, the most you could offer after the day’s events was a drawn-out yawn and a mental note to be amazed at everything later.

Lucifer half-led, half-dragged you toward one of the sinks in his private bath. He left you only long enough to grab a number of towels and washcloths that piled so high in his arms they obstructed his view.

You giggled softly at the sight of rags being rushed over on a pair of short legs, and feebly offered your help.

Ooh. Not rags — these towels were pure silk.

The blond positioned you to face him and began to clean you up, scanning your face for any cuts or bruises. You admired him drowsily, trying to do the same. He simply pecked your fingers when they wandered over his cheek, but otherwise stayed focused to tend to you.

Silk slid over your face, wiping away the stain of angelic blood from your chin and down the side of your throat. Lucifer passed the cloth over you with utmost care, all while you stared at him silently.

It was only when he became aware of your intense staring that you gave into the urge to kiss him again.

The Devil seemed to have the same idea, mouth already parting for you. Your stomach flip-flopped at the telltale slip of his forked tongue against yours. You breathed him in, lips moving against his in between brief inhales, desperate not to part for even one second.

Lucifer whined into your mouth, hands rushing to dig into your hips and pull you in. He ran his hands over you, petting at every inch of your body, heavenly wardrobe catching on your hips, over your breasts, around your thighs. It drove you mad, wishing that the damn clothing was off and away. Memories of Lucifer buried inside you, smothering you into the mattress could not compare to the real thing just within reach.

You bent over to follow him, teeth clicking against each other as you continued to devour him and his noises. Another whine had you gripping the base of his skull, newly-formed claws digging through his hair. The flush that Lucifer inspired under your skin ran hot; so hot that the feeling of his cold hands against your bare skin shocked you.

Glazed-over crimson eyes met yours when you broke away from him abruptly, confused and yearning while you fought to calm yourself down. He too was flushed… in gold. Golden blood.

“Lucifer…” You swallowed. “We need… we need to get Charlotte…”

The King hummed, slow on the uptake. But soon his darkened gaze lit up with recognition.

“Ch… Charlotte!” He exclaimed. “Right! We gotta get our baby!”

You snorted at the theatrics, fondness settling deep down inside your chest.

———

Lucifer let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you pleased while the flames licked over you both. You fought not to manhandle him again, wanting to be brave. At least the change from ornate, colossal palace to inside of the old Donner apartment fireplace was over in a flash.

The firebox had warped, growing in size until it was large enough for you and Lucifer to walk through. Briefly you wondered why you had never noticed such a thing happening during Lucifer’s countless visits, but perhaps it was a trick that humans didn’t pick up on.

Or perhaps Lucifer was short enough that the large fireplace hadn’t had to change so much for him alone.

(You didn’t know how to feel about being at least a head taller than Lucifer now. It was another thing filed under ‘To Address Later’ in your mind.)

Mr. And Mrs. Farrow were not waiting for you when you stepped into their home. They were nowhere to be found.

But a baby’s cry was coming from further back in the apartment.

You dashed toward the noise, with Lucifer at your heels. It led you to the outlet where you’d been only once before, and you were happy for small miracles because so much of this unit was unfamiliar to you, courtesy of your desire to avoid the kooks that had initiated you into their bizarre dealings with the literal Prince of Darkness.

When you arrived at the spare room, it was practically pitch black. Tea candles had been re-lit here and there, but they barely distinguished the silhouettes of two very frantic, knee-high toys-turned-sentient.

The little creatures moved like phantoms in the dark. One was steadily pushing the baby bassinet from side to side, attempting to soothe the crying child within.

The other was levitating at the edge of the bassinet, staring worriedly at the baby, clearly agitated before it realized that someone had entered the room.

Your eyes had already adjusted to the dim little room — purposefully avoiding the cot that lay on the opposite side of Charlotte’s cradle. There was no possible way to prepare for seeing your own corpse, if it was still there. You had chosen to banish the possibility from your mind, and hadn’t dared to bring it up to Lucifer lest he grow agitated if the thought hadn’t already occurred to him.

You focused on the present. On your child. And the goat butlers that your Love had spontaneously breathed life into.

“You really are alive.” You said softly in awe.

The little goat that had been watching Charlotte from above seemed to recognize you. He floated back down, and allowed you to run your hand over his head as you stepped up to the bassinet, momentarily feeling the fuzz of his red fur. His brother followed, and they bowed, both for you and Lucifer as well as out of your way.

Had you been less single-minded in getting to your daughter, you might’ve laughed at the look of relief on their faces. Taking care of a newborn without thumbs couldn’t be easy.

When you pulled back the little curtains of the pram, you felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you.

Your beautiful baby. Your little Charlotte — she was reaching up, crying to be taken out and held.

Without a thought, you obliged her.

“It’s alright. It’s alright now.” You whispered, fingers smoothing over her porcelain forehead. “Mama’s here. Mama’s got you.”

It was stunning to be able to actually touch your child, caress her soft skin and feel her yellow hair on your fingertips. She was truly like a tiny doll, with two dollops of pale red on either side of her cherubic cheeks.

You pushed down the compulsion to cry. Everything has happened so fast that you hadn’t had time to recognize what you would be missing upon your death. If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t have gotten to hold Charlotte ever again.

You could feel Lucifer’s presence just behind you before he was at your side, solid and comforting. Whatever regrets you may have entertained about leaving Heaven vanished then and there.

Charlotte’s cries were dying down, turning into minute whimpers and hiccups. Her eyes opened in the middle of your slow rocking back and forth, focusing on you.

You beamed. “Hello baby.”

She gurgled, barely a blink before a wide, gummy smile of remembrance animated her formerly tear-stricken face. A laugh stuttered out of you, thick with emotion while Charlotte wiggled in her swaddling blanket. The spade of her tail poked out of the confines and tapped against your forearm with delight.

Charlotte looked from you to Lucifer as he leaned in, having shuffled around so that he was able to embrace you, Charlotte nestled safe and snug between your bodies. She squealed with happiness, eliciting more laughter.

“Let’s go home.”

****

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#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Thank you to everyone that stuck around until the end!!!

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hamsterclaw · 11 months ago

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Black Ice

Bangtan Christmas drabble 7 - read the rest here.

Min Yoongi only cares about three things. The thrill of drifting, his friends, and cars, in that order. Somehow, you've got under his skin. Part of the Drift Kings AU.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Street racer/mechanic! Yoongi, smut

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Min Yoongi knows loneliness. He knows the unrelenting ache of it, the way it permeates every aspect of one’s psyche.

He knows what it feels like to look for a connection that isn’t there.

When he was ten his father took him into work for the first time, and it was then, amongst the smells of engine oil and new paint and pinewood air freshener, that Yoongi discovered his first true love.

He pored over engine diagrams, admired the easy simplicity of every tool falling into its destined purpose, got used to his clothes being stained from tuning up cars all day long.

He’d loved every minute of it, and the truth is, he still does.

Then his cousin Yijin had given him a lift down Mount Samo one day, and 14 year old Yoongi had learned that there was more than one way to soar.

He learned to drive navigating the hairpin bends of Mount Samo, and although he’s perfected the art of drifting up and down it, could do it blindfolded a hundred times over, the thrill of it has never really faded.

He’s picked up a collection of friends over the years, all of whom love the adrenaline of street racing – not knowing what’s round the corner, trusting your own reflexes and instincts to save you when you can barely see for the blood rushing in your veins.

Kim Seokjin, his oldest and closest friend, the chaebol prince who can put together a Supra’s turbo-2JZ engine almost as quickly as Yoongi himself. His sister, a corporate princess who makes Yoongi’s heart soften and the opposite happen to his cock. They’re the two people Yoongi would do anything for, not that he’d ever tell them that.

Jung Hoseok, the gifted mechanic with a heart of gold and the sunniest demeanour Yoongi’s ever been able to tolerate, creature of the night that he is.

Jeon Jungkook, the baby fuckboi of the group, a man with the looks of a god and the persona of a baby deer. Yoongi finds it hard to be anything but endeared by his earnest good nature and anything but amused by his swaggering. Maybe one day the kid will grow into the bad man he so badly wants to be, but Yoongi hopes not. He’s great the way he is.

It’s been a while since Yoongi felt lonely, in fact his life’s pretty good right about now.

And at this exact moment? It’s perfect.

Yoongi’s senses are on overdrive as he swings into a hairpin bend on Mount Samo, tires gripping tarmac sideways. His foot taps the throttle, his hand on the handbrake just in case but he doesn’t need it, he knows the terrain so well his body’s reacting on instinct.

Sideways on he can see Seokjin to his right, composed, barely breaking a sweat as his rear wheels scrape the very edge of the path, inches from the steep drop.

Yoongi catches sight of himself in his own rearview mirror, teeth bared in a feral grin as he shoots out onto the final stretch, so fast there’s nothing to see but black.

He’d normally stop, celebrate his win with a cigarette, but he’s got somewhere to be tonight.

Behind him now, Seokjin’s headlamps flicker in lieu of a goodbye.

Yoongi depresses the horn, a sharp short blast, and then he’s gone.

***

Kang Yubin’s been supplying Yoongi’s father’s garage for years, and Yoongi’s been going to him for car parts since before he knew a spark plug from a catalytic converter.

The Kang warehouse has an unassuming front in an industrial estate on the outskirts of Seoul. Yoongi parks outside the familiar glass door, can see the dim lighting filtering through the tinted glass as he approaches.

He pushes open the door, stops, nonplussed.

Instead of Kang Yubin’s steel-rimmed glasses and grey hair, he’s greeted by you.

Half your face is obscured by a black face mask, your hair up under a baseball cap, but you’re definitely not who he expected to see.

He blinks.

Your eyebrows rise.

‘Are you lost?’ you inquire, an edge to your voice that pulls him out of his surprised reaction and reminds him why he’s here.

‘I was expecting Mr Kang,’ Yoongi replies.

Coming closer to the counter he picks up on a guardedness to your posture, a weariness that you don’t bother to hide.

‘I’m his granddaughter,’ you say, brief. ‘I’m guessing you didn’t just come here to stare at me, what do you want?’

‘Spark plugs – I have a —’ Yoongi breaks off as you get up.

‘I know who you are, and I know what car you drive. Stay here and I’ll get you your stuff.’

You disappear behind a door, return in minutes with a cardboard box.

You pull a box-cutter out of a desk drawer, slit the masking tape, pull the flaps up.

‘Feel free to take a look,’ you say, looking at him.

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to verify that they’re what he needs.

‘How do you know who I am?’ he asks, as he pays.

There’s a faint spark in your eyes, a flicker so quick he wonders if he’s mis-read it.

‘My grandfather said you were due around this time.’

You nudge your shoulder vaguely in the direction of the screen to your left, a view from the camera overlooking the front of the warehouse. ‘Not many people drive a car like that.’

You take his money, nudge the box in his direction.

‘Pleasure doing business, Min Yoongi. I’ll give my grandfather your regards.’

You’re already looking back down at your phone like you’ve dismissed him.

Yoongi picks up the box, casts another glance at you, and leaves.

He’s still thinking about you when he reaches home.

***

Yoongi’s concentrating so hard on the engine in front of him that he barely hears Seokjin approach.

‘Dinner?’ asks Seokjin, eyes flicking over the V configuration of the 8 chrome cylinders in the custom Nissan with interest.

Yoongi leans back, massages the crick in his neck from leaning over.

‘Yeah. Quick though, the client wants a rush on this.’

They exchange a look.

‘More money than sense,’ Seokjin says, critical.

‘Pays the bills,’ Yoongi counters.

They have similar opinions about rich clients who want their supercars tuned up. It’s rare that a client’s got the ability to do justice to the horsepower under the bonnet of the flashy exteriors.

Yoongi shrugs, goes to wash his hands.

‘Is your sister coming?’ he asks.

Seokjin’s still admiring the engine. ‘Not tonight. Jimin’s in town,’ he says. ‘There’s a race later, if you change your mind. I’m meeting Jungkook after dinner.’

‘Is he still sulking over Mijin?’ Yoongi asks, falling into step beside Seokjin.

There’s no need to confirm where they’re going, they always stop at a tiny restaurant run by an elderly woman who seems utterly unimpressed by their good manners but makes the best broth in town.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but his tone is sympathetic. ‘You know how it is. People never expect him to be as soft as he really is.’

Yoongi nods. ‘Tell him if she can’t appreciate him she’s the one missing out.’

Seokjin snorts. ‘Tell him yourself, he’ll love it. Are you coming to Seulgi’s party?’

It’s rare that Yoongi goes out at night, he’s busy and he does his best work at night time, both in the workshop and on the streets, but he’d promised Seokjin he’d go.

‘Next week?’ he asks.

Seokjin nods, pushes open the door to the restaurant.

‘Yeah, don’t forget.’

***

Seulgi is a friend of Seokjin’s, they’d dated briefly, years back, but it hadn’t worked out.

She greets Seokjin enthusiastically at the door, the pink flush on her cheeks deepening as Seokjin gives her an affectionate hug.

She beams at Yoongi, and he smiles back because he’s not proof against her cheerful nature.

It’s how he became friends with Hoseok, after all.

‘Drinks, let me get you drinks,’ Seulgi cheers, leading them into her kitchen.

Seokjin’s swept away by Seulgi and her friends, he’s always been a popular guy. He shoots Yoongi a look as he’s pulled into the lounge, which Yoongi pretends not to see.

He lifts his cup to his lips, decides to go outside for a bit.

The deck outside has a few scattered people, mostly couples, some groups.

Yoongi leans against the wall, looks around idly. The throbbing bass of the music feels like a heartbeat. The night is cold and crisp, the skies clear, but there aren’t any stars visible in Seulgi’s backyard.

He lets his mind wander to his next project, restoring a classic Toyota for a friend from the circuit. He’ll need parts.

He wonders if you’ll be behind the counter when he next goes to the Kang warehouse. Then he’s straightening up, unsure if he’s manifested you into reality.

He’s never seen your full face, but he’d know your eyes anywhere.

You’re standing across the deck, looking straight at him, coat open over a dress that shows a hell of a lot more than the hoodie and sweats you had on the last time he saw you.

For the first time tonight, Yoongi feels a prickle of interest.

He’d known you’d be beautiful, there’d been something about the way you carried yourself.

You’re still looking at him.

Yoongi walks over.

‘Who’s manning the warehouse?’ he asks, when he gets close enough.

You tilt your head. ‘Are you really so concerned about my family business, Min Yoongi?’

There’s a mocking note in your voice, Yoongi finds he likes it.

‘You have the best quality parts,’ he says.

Your smile blooms over your face, making your eyes bright. ‘I knew there was a reason my grandfather liked you.’

Yoongi nods to your dress. ‘You look pretty.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘You look pretty too.’

Yoongi can feel his lips curving. Are you flirting with him? Seems like you are.

He’s all for it.

You’re raising your cup now, taking a sip.

In the night time lighting, your lips glisten with moisture and whatever lipstick you’ve got on, making him wonder what they’d look like around his cock.

You eye him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

Yoongi says, ‘Do you like cars? Want to see mine?’

***

You’ve got your legs either side of his torso, your ass bouncing in his lap, and Yoongi’s front seat’s reclined all the way to make room for you to ride him.

The lines of your beautiful body are reminiscent of a triumph of masters of Italian design. Long smooth thighs, tightening around him with every rhythmic thrust.

The curves of your breasts, bouncing right in his face.

The long line of your neck, head thrown back, the pulse in your throat fluttering as he holds your hips so he can fuck you back, fuck up into your sweet warmth.

His cock fits inside you like he was made for you, and god fucking damn, you feel so good around him he’s on a hair trigger.

Yoongi cups the back of your head, tugs you down so you’re close. Goosebumps prickle your flesh as he tells you how good you are.

Your eyes close as he kisses your bare neck, flicks his tongue against your skin.

You had been whimpering steadily as your arousal dripped down onto him, soaking his balls, pooling at the base of his cock, and as Yoongi picks up the pace he’s gratified by the hitch in your breathing.

Yoongi’s always been damn good at helping his partners find their pleasure, and he’s sure as hell not going to stop now.

Your breasts are still in his face, half out the low neck of your dress, chest heaving.

Yoongi rubs his thumb over the outline of your hardened nipple, and you cry out, muffled with your mouth against his skin but still loud enough to make his ears ring.

His balls tighten up even more as your walls flutter around him, and Yoongi would know you were coming even if you hadn’t gasped it.

God, you’re so sweet and sexy he’s lost.

He can feel your panting breaths against his neck, the weight of your warm body as it goes lax after your peak, the sweet grip of your cunt taking in everything he has to give you as he releases, a pulse of pleasure so intense it sends shockwaves through his skin.

Yoongi’s floating, and like reaching the summit of Mount Samo, he immediately wants to do it again.

You’re looking at him, lips still so swollen and pretty his spent cock gives a residual throb inside you.

‘Like my car?’ Yoongi asks. It’s stupid, but it makes you laugh and he’ll be as stupid as you like if it makes you sound like that.

Your chin lifts, and you say, ‘It’s all right.’

The flash of merriment in your eyes gives you away.

Yoongi laughs. ‘Maybe next time we can get the car started and I can actually take you somewhere.’

‘I don’t know,’ you tease. ‘Are you a good driver?’

Yoongi reaches out, tucks the lock of hair that’s fallen over your eye behind your ear.

‘Let’s find out,’ he says. ‘Where do you want to go?’

***

Yoongi’s thinking about you the next morning when he wakes up. He’d ended up taking you back to your place, where you’d kissed him sweetly at the door and bid him goodbye like a promise to see him again.

His phone rings and he’s still got you on his mind, so it takes a second for him to regroup.

‘The maknae needs help,’ Seokjin says, no preamble. ‘I’m going to swing by yours, be there in ten.’

Yoongi hangs up, wonders what the hell Jungkook’s got himself into this time.

By the time Seokjin arrives, Yoongi’s had time to bolt coffee and change, but Seokjin still raises a brow as he swings into the passenger seat.

As always, Seokjin’s impeccably dressed, dark hair swept back from his forehead like he’s going to his own fucking wedding instead of about to deal with some shit that’s going down.

Yoongi suppresses a yawn, tugs his beanie down over his brow.

‘What’s going down with JK?’ he asks.

Seokjin cuts off another car so smoothly they’re halfway down the intersection before the irritated horn blares.

‘Remember that race the other day? Jungkook beat Seungho fair and square, I was there.’

Yoongi groans. ‘The fuck. I thought we weren’t going to race that fragile asshole anymore.’

Seokjin glances in the rearview. ‘The maknae was still hurting over Mijin, I thought an easy win might make him feel better.’

‘So what’s Seungho done?’

‘Brought in the big guns,’ Seokjin says grimly. ‘Called in some guys from Hongkong. JK’s with them now.’

Now Yoongi’s fully awake. ‘Should’ve taken my car instead of this piece of shit,’ he says.

Seokjin just laughs. ‘Don’t worry about my car, Yoongi. Maybe think of a way to hide that big–ass hickey on your neck.’

‘Suck my dick,’ Yoongi says, like they’re 16 again.

‘Looks like someone already did,’ Seokjin returns.

***

Yoongi parks up outside the Kang warehouse, pushes open the door.

You look up from your phone. Your face mask is off, so Yoongi has the privilege of seeing the way your lips curve in a smile.

‘There’s been a shipment of fuel injectors,’ you say. ‘Want to take a look?’

Yoongi stops just in front of the wooden half-panel that separates you from him.

He tilts his head.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Also, I took my friend’s Honda for a spin today, I’ve got a list.’

He smooths out the piece of paper he’s got folded in his pocket, places it on the counter.

You pick it up, get up. ‘I’ve got you.’

Yoongi runs a hand over the hickey over his neck. ‘I’ve been taking shit all day, about this,’ he adds.

‘Yeah?’ you ask, but you don’t seem the least bit contrite. ‘You did your share of marking, Min Yoongi.’

Yoongi asks, ‘What time do you get off?’

You’re about to answer when the door opens.

Yoongi turns and tenses immediately.

Fucking Shin Seungho.

‘You following me?’ he asks mildly.

Seungho scoffs, doesn’t deign to reply.

‘I’m collecting an order,’ he says to you.

Your face mask is back on, your face carefully blank. ‘Sure, what’s the name?’

When you go into the back to collect it Seungho turns to Yoongi.

Yoongi concentrates on the silkscreen of a cat on the wall behind the counter.

He can feel Seungho’s eyes on his face.

Just try it, fucker.

The fact was, he’d pushed Seokjin’s Honda to its limits beating Seungho’s friends today, and although the adrenaline’s ebbed, there’s a thin streak still running through his bloodstream, and he’s a spark away from igniting.

Seungho takes a step closer, and Yoongi turns to face him like he’s got all the time in the world.

You return just as Seungho opens his filthy mouth.

‘Looks like you’ve paid,’ you say, passing the box across the counter to Seungho.

You pull out the box cutter, slit the package, open it up for him to check, but don’t put it down.

‘Am I going to have trouble here, boys?’ you ask.

Seungho barely looks your way, Yoongi’s always known the man lacks vision.

‘Nah,’ Seungho says finally. He picks up the box, sneers at Yoongi.

Yoongi blanks his expression. There’s no way he’s going to start shit with Seungho in front of you.

The asshole’s not worth it.

As soon as the door closes behind Seungho you put down the box cutter.

The next words out of your mouth surprise him.

‘Shit, you’re hot when you’re mad, Yoongi.’

Yoongi stares at you, flummoxed, then he laughs.

‘Just when I’m mad?’ he asks.

You shrug. ‘Take me out on a date and I’ll tell you more.’

‘How about right now?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Let’s go.’

***

As your grip on his hair loosens, Yoongi lifts his mouth from your cunt, swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Helps you tug your panties back up, smooths your skirt back down over your thighs.

He notices you’ve still got his cum in the corner of your lips. As he watches, you flick your tongue out, lick delicately.

His cock stirs with interest, and you act like you know it.

‘More later?’ you ask.

‘Yeah. After I win.’

Yoongi reaches over to help you with your seatbelt, arranging it across your chest, between your breasts, securing it.

You lean forward and kiss him as the belt clicks into place.

Yoongi starts the engine, turns the heating back on because he’s noticed your hands get cold easily.

‘I can drop you off at home before the race,’ he offers. ‘Come see you after.’

‘I want to see you drive,’ you say.

Yoongi wouldn’t say it, but he’s pleased. He knows he’ll keep you safe, it’s a circuit through the city outskirts he’s done a million times, and he’s looking forward to you meeting Seokjin and Hoseok and Jungkook.

He flicks on the lights, rolls into oncoming traffic. Heads North.

By the time he pulls up to the starting line there’s the usual crowd gathered. He parks up next to Seokjin and Hoseok.

In his rearview he can see JK surrounded by people. He’s lost the sad puppy air he had for a few weeks whilst he was pining after Mijin. The kid’s going to be all right, not that Yoongi’s ever had any doubt about that.

Engines all around him are starting up, a deafening series of rumbles.

Beside him, Seokjin waves, and Hoseok smiles so brightly it’s blinding.

The flag waves, and Yoongi accelerates.

Checks on you in the rearview, and you’re as pretty as he remembers.

Min Yoongi’s spent a lot of his life looking for connection, and by his reckoning, he’s doing pretty well right about now.

Lights flash by in a blur.

Yoongi drives.

Author note: And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading, hope you've enjoyed, here's to a brighter 2024. This time last year we were saying goodbye to Kim Seokjin, I can't wait to start welcoming the boys back again. Happy holidays to you all!

©hamsterclaw 2023

#bangtan christmas #bangtan christmas 2023 #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic

556 notes · View notes

persevereforahappyending · 16 days ago

Text

A Beacon in the Dark |9|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Death, Killing, Shooting, Stabbing, Kidnapping, Violence

Word Count: 5.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Joey ran through the woods, she knocked branches out of her face, jumped over a few fallen logs, doing everything in her power to not lose speed. She didn’t even bother glancing back, she didn’t want to lose focus, but she also didn’t know if she’d like what she’d see if she turned around. She lifted the device you had her grab out of your pocket and pressed the button, trusting that it would alert Grace like you said, though she didn’t know what good that would do. She slid to a stop; her body froze when a thunderous roar ripped through the woods.

She slowly turned her head and scanned her surroundings. She didn’t hear anything, not even so much as a crunch of the leaves. She kept her eyes searching for a flicker of gold staring back at her. She was sure by the time she got a glimpse of those yellow eyes it would already be too late. She was still frozen in place, she wasn’t sure if moving would signal where she was, as if you didn’t already know.

You. Joey released a shaky breath; she couldn’t get the image of you out of her head. She knew there was something off about you, she pegged it during your first meeting at the diner. She dismissed you as a vampire, but she didn’t even consider you would be a werewolf. She felt stupid, it all made sense, you refused to talk about what happened to you, all you told her was werewolves. The way you talked about monsters at times, it almost sounded personal, Joey wrote it off as just a hatred for the supernatural, but it was hatred for yourself.

She wondered if that’s why Grace worked with you, because you hated what you were. It was clear Grace knew what you were, the two of you were close and had been acting particularly weird earlier. You didn’t seem thrilled by this case because it was a on a full moon, it was why Grace stressed that it needed to get done quick. Everything about you was finally clear.

That didn’t stop the conflict within Joey though. You were a monster, something she was hired to help fight. You had been nice up until this point where it was clear the beast had full control. Joey couldn’t be working with you if you were what could tear her apart, that was assuming she’d even survive you this time. And lastly, you lied, you and Grace kept this secret from her, she didn’t think she could ever trust either of you again, if you kept something like this a secret, something that literally could put her life in danger, there was no telling what else you would try and keep hidden.

Joey was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard someone running towards her, someone running fast. She felt around for her gun and silently cursed when she realized the witches must have taken it. She looked around and grabbed a decent size branch, it wasn’t the best, but it might at least be able to buy her some time. She raised it like a baseball bat and narrowed her eyes, waiting for whatever was coming towards her to come out of the shadows.

One of the witches came barreling out of the darkness, her eyes widened upon seeing Joey and fell backwards. Joey continued to hold the branch up, but she hadn’t even moved a muscle before the witch was scurrying backwards, tears quickly filling her eyes.

Joeys’ eyes widened, she froze, the branch she was holding even stopped moving because of how still she was standing. Joey felt hot breath on the back of her neck. She slowly turned her head, glancing back to see a large wolf, black fur, bright yellow eyes, teeth that were probably once white but now dripped with blood, and claws that were as big as Joey’s forearm and would have no issue tearing through her flesh. The beast was on all fours, but it slowly rose up until it was towering over Joey on its hind legs.

Joey whipped around only to fall to the ground from the abrupt movement. She propped herself up on her forearms, her eyes never leaving the beast. It dropped back down on all fours and let out a loud roar right in her face. Joey flinched, turning her head as she felt the saliva and bits of blood spray out of the creature's mouth. This was how she was going to die; she was going to get eaten by a fucking werewolf, in the middle of the wood, and her son would never know. It would never come out how she died, her body would never be found, if there was even a body left, she would written off, everyone assuming she just abandoned her son again. Her eyes filled with tears, not at the thought of her death, but the thought of knowing Caleb would never know how much she loved him, that he’d go forward in life thinking she once again broke every promise she made him.

Joey felt a rush of air then there was a loud thump that shook the whole ground. She opened her eyes and no longer saw the monster in front of her. A scream pierced the air and Joey turned around to see the beast had jumped over her and was now ripping into the witch. She slowly slid away, making sure her eyes never left the beast, her eyes not able to look away as it tore through the witch’s flesh, keeping her alive so her screams were the only thing that could be heard for miles. Joey rose to her feet, and she made eye contact with the witch, seeing the pain written all over her face, the silent plea for death to take her, then Joey turned and ran.

She didn’t know where she was going, she didn’t have the GPS, you were the only one that had that. She didn’t care where she ended up, she just needed to put enough distance between her and you. It was you. The beast was you. Joey knew that but when her eyes met the monsters, she didn’t see any of you in there. There was nothing of you behind the yellow eyes, it was only the wolf. You were about to kill her, you could have killed her, she didn’t see any sort of recognition of your face, it wasn’t why you spared her, you just went for the greater threat in the moment. Joey knew that she would need to survive you until the sun came up because if she came across your path again you would certainly kill her.

Joey ran until her foot got caught on something and she was sent tumbling to the ground. She groaned as she crashed hard, she rolled over, intending to push herself up when she was met with the sight of a body. Joey scurried back, sitting up once her back was against the nearest tree. Her eyes widened as the sight before her, eight of witches lay dead, scattered around the clearing. They were all killed within seconds, none of them having time to escape, only a few it seemed were able to turn around, as if they were going to attempt to run.

Joey brought a hand to her mouth. The job was to stop the witches, and you certainly did that. Not having to worry about the witches, on top of you, was definitely a plus, she just never imagined you’d go through them so quickly. If there was no one else left to fight it was only a matter of time before you found her. The eight bodies here and the one Joey just left you with meant nine witches were dead and there was still three out there, assuming you hadn’t killed them yet.

Joey slowly pulled herself to her feet. She hadn’t heard you when you appeared behind her, she wasn’t sure if it was her fear or the natural predator in you that made you so stealthy. For all she knew you killed the witch and then came after her, you could be circling the area right now, waiting for the perfect time to make your move. She slowly lifted her foot and began walking across the area, she wasn’t sure where she was going but she needed a place to hide or a way out, it was dark, the area was vast and unfamiliar, and you were hunting her, she didn’t stand a chance trying to run back to your car, that was if she could even figure out the direction to run in.

Joey stopped and searched each body as she passed them. Not a single one of the witches had anything useful on them, not even a weapon. She guessed if they had magic there wasn’t really a need for weapons but a lot of good that seemed to do them. None of them had keys or a phone of any sort, she wondered how they possibly got there without a vehicle and how they communicated without a phone, if they didn’t use any sort of modern technology at all, or if they did where they tucked it away if it wasn’t on their person.

Joey came to a stop at the area, in front of her was nothing but darkness, the fire only illuminated so far. She wasn’t sure if it was better to trek into the unknown or stay by the light. She looked around, seeing no movement from anything, she couldn’t even hear bugs, it was just the crackle of the fire. With a shaky hand she reached into her pocket, feeling around for the candy wrapper she knew was in there. When her fingers finally brushed against the wrapper, she pulled it out and popped it into her mouth, instantly letting out a relieved sigh. She stood there for a moment, her eyes closed as she soaked up the cherry taste.

She opened her eyes with a new determination, turning around she walked straight to the woods and broke off a decent size branch, not even flinching at the loud crack that surely would have alerted everyone to her location. She slid off her jacket and ripped the sleeve of her shirt, then began wrapping it around the top of the stick. She held the stick over the fire and almost immediately the scraps up her shirt caught.

When she pulled it away, she couldn’t help but smirk at her torch, she spun around on her heel and marched off into the darkness. She didn’t know a lot about werewolves, only what she’d seen in movies, she had no idea how to know what was fact and what was fiction, but she knew that when someone was burned by fire it hurt, and she never heard of a werewolf being immune to fire.

Joey had only gone a few feet when she slowed down, tilting her head, it sounded like there were screams. She furrowed her brow and looked off to her right, the direction the screams seemed to be coming from. It couldn’t be campers; it sounded too muffled, like something was trying to block the sound from getting out. She also didn’t believe it was the remaining wishes, there were at most three of them left and the screams sounded like they were coming from more people.

Joey turned her foot, the leaves crunching beneath her boot as she slowly inched towards the noise. She knew she shouldn’t be going towards unknown screams in the middle of the woods, at night, while a werewolf was after her, but curiosity got the best of her. She couldn’t ignore the fact that the whole reason they came out to the woods was because witches were doing human sacrifices, and she had yet to see any humans. Even when you and her were chained up she never once saw another human, which meant the witches had to have some place to store all the girls.

Joey kept going until her foot kicked something hard and metal. She furrowed her brow, whatever it was had been heavy. She crouched down and began brushing the leaves off the area she kicked. Underneath was a metal cover, made to look like the bark of a tree. Unless someone took a close look or kicked it like Joey had they would just walk right past it, never knowing it was a secret hatch. She switched the torch to her other hand and gripped the handle on the cover with her dominant hand then began to lift.

She gritted her teeth as she tried to lift the cover with only one hand, it was a lot heavier than any sewer cover, that was for sure. She would bet money the witches used their magic to lift it, the weight was probably a way to deter prying eyes, if someone actually happened to stumble upon the passage. Joey finally lifted it up enough to slide it to the side, it was just like a sewer cover. She held the torch over the cover, trying to illuminate as much as she could. There was a rather rusty ladder and that was it, she couldn’t see the bottom and wasn’t sure how far it went.

Joey looked up and smiled to herself before scouring her surroundings until she found a little rock. She kept hold of the rock as she got her watch ready. She pressed the side button to start the timer on her watch and dropped the rock. She listened for the rock, silently watching as the seconds ticked by. When she finally heard the rock hit what sounded like a hard surface, she paused her watch, seeing hardly any time passed. She smiled to herself, the passage wasn’t super deep, just several feet, the torch probably just couldn’t reach that far, if she had a flashlight, she would have been able to see the bottom.

She stood up, looking down at the passage below. Going down without backup and without knowing what she was getting into was a terrible idea. Staying above ground where you definitely were was a terrible idea, it was a guaranteed death sentence. She steeled herself before turning around and slowly lowered her foot onto the first bar of the ladder. She had half her body down the tunnel when a roar ripped through the air. Her blood ran cold as her head snapped up, searching for the direction it might have come from.

She took a few more steps down, lowering herself further until just her eyes were barely peeking out of the hole. She glanced to the side at the cover, it was hard enough getting off and she couldn’t guarantee she’d be able to push it off again if she closed it. Her internal debate was interrupted when she saw a witch run out of the darkness, headed directly for her. The witch spun around and as she raised her hand a stream of fire shot out. She moved her hand, directing the fire to create a wall in front of her. It seems you were right behind her as you came out of the same darkness a second later, sliding to a stop before you could hit the wall of fire.

You snapped and growled at the fire as you paced back and forth. Joey watched with wide eyes, holding her breath as she feared if she so much as breathed you would hear her. The witch stared at you for a second, seeming to silently taunt you before turning and making her way directly for Joey again. Your pacing got more impatient before you turned around, quickly circling back around and getting a running start as you jumped through the flames. The witch didn’t even have time to look back before your jaws snapped around her neck and flung her body in the air, not even giving her the chance to scream.

“Shit,” Joey whispered.

She wrapped her arm holding the torch around one of the rungs of the ladder and used her other hand to grab the metal cover. She kept glancing at you, watching as the witch’s body fell back to the ground, only for you to catch it and whip your head back and forth, before finally dropping the body to the ground. Joey gritted her teeth as she lifted the cover with all her strength, leaning her entire body forward to try and get it to budge. The cover grated against the ground, barely moving.

You lifted your head from the witch’s body, licking your chops as blood and flesh continued to fall out of your mouth. Joey let out a shaky breath as her eyes met yours, without a second thought she dropped the torch and used both hands to pull at the cover, making sure to lean her body against the ladder so she didn’t fall. The cover seemed to move an inch each time she lifted it. When you started walking towards her, she moved faster, she could feel her heart trying to beat out of her chest. The cover was about halfway over the hole when Joey took a few steps down, finally losing sight of you. She pushed up with both hands, trying to bring the cover over the rest of the way. The cover just fell back into place when she caught sight of your teeth snapping at it.

She had the ladder in a death grip, listening as you growled and scratched at the cover. The cover groaned but never moved. With shaky legs she slowly began to descend into the darkness. She had no idea where she was or what she would find but going back up wasn’t an option. When her feet finally hit the ground, she could feel concrete, not dirt. She held out her hand, feeling around in the darkness until she finally came in contact with a concrete wall. She felt around her pocks, finally remembering she had a phone until she pulled it out, the witches hadn’t taken it. She held it up to see she had no signal, no way of getting in contact with Grace, she had to hope the device worked and Grace was on her way, she wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since she pressed that button.

Her phone might have been useless for calling for help, but she could still use the flashlight. She held it up, using the little light to guide her way. The entire tunnel stretched forward, for she didn’t even know how far, she heard the echoes of screams every few seconds. The tunnel itself was all concrete, cracks spread throughout, a section crumbling from years of wear and tear.

She furrowed her brow when she saw light at the end of the tunnel, she knew it wasn’t from sunlight though. She slowly lowered her phone as she approached the end of the tunnel, there was a large opening, the walls were lined with torches. She nearly dropped it when she saw twelve cages lining the far wall, each holding a girl, all of them within the age range Grace talked about.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. She didn’t hesitate to run towards them, searching the cages for any sort of lock.

“The-there’s a key,” one of the girls said, pointing across the room.

Joey ran across the room and grabbed the key off the wall. It was a rusty metal key connected to a ridiculously large metal ring. She ran back to the cages and began unlocking each one, letting the girls out. The girls huddled together, whispering thanks as Joey released them.

“I need to get you out of here,” Joey mumbled more to herself.

“There’s an exit down there,” one of the older girls spoke up, pointing to an opening on the side of the room, similar to the one Joey had come out of. “It’s how we were brought in.”

“The tunnels stretch throughout the woods,” another girl said. Joey nodded, it all made sense, the witches used interconnected tunnels under the forest, to get around and to hide what they’ve been doing all these years. “It goes back to the surface.”

“Do you think you’re able to find the way out?” Joey asked. The girls nodded. “Okay,” she whispered and looked around the room. Her eyes widened when they fell on a familiar duffle in the corner of the room. She ran for it, dropping to the floor instantly. She unzipped it to see all the weapons still in place. She dug around until she pulled out two flashlights. “Take these,” she handed the flashlights out to the girls. The two oldest, who seemed to be doing the most talking, each took a flashlight. “Stick together and don’t stop until you’re out of here.”

They nodded and one girl moved to the front of the group while the other girl fell to the back of the line. “You aren’t coming with us?” the one asked.

Joey shook her head. “Unfinished business.”

“Be careful.” Joey couldn’t help but smile, she appreciated the gesture but telling her to be careful when she was going to be facing a werewolf, and witches was rather comedic. “What’s your name?”

Joey opened her mouth and then paused, smiling to herself. “It’s Joey.”

“Thank you, Joey.”

Joey smiled and watched as the group of girls slowly made their way down the tunnel that was supposed to lead them out. Joey crouched back down at the bag and dug around, pulling out a pistol and instantly putting it in her waistband. She continued to dig and pulled out a large hunting knife, the silver glinting in the flames of the torches, before she strapped it to her side.

“Well, haven’t you made quite the mess,” someone said, making Joey whip around to see the last two witches, the one who spoke being the one that was talking to you while you were chained to the tree. She had never been more disappointed at being right that they were still alive. “Your pet,” she snarled. “Killed the rest of our coven.”

“You were the ones that captured us,” Joey snarked.

The witch was on her in the blink of an eye, gripping her tightly by the chin as she pressed her up against the concrete wall. “You came into our territory,” she snarled.

“You were sacrificing girls,” Joey gritted out.

“We’ve been doing it for centuries.” She ran her sharp nails across Joey’s chin and down her neck, somehow not breaking the skin. “All you had to do was mind your own business.”

“They’re innocent.” Joey stared into the witches’ eyes, not caring she would probably be struck down in a moment. She couldn’t see a way of getting out of this alive and if she was dying then she was going to go down fighting.

“So, much strength.” The witch let go of Joey and looked at her with something she could only describe as admiration. “I see why they like you. Too bad they’re still going to kill you.”

The witch turned Joey around, gripping her by the hair as she forced her to walk forward. “Go,” she ordered the other witch, pointing down the tunnel Joey had come out of.

The other witch led the way. Joey stumbled in the dark, neither witch using any sort of light to light the way. She couldn’t help but wonder if they could see in the dark or knew where they were going from constantly walking it. Every time Joey stumbled the witch only gripped her hair tighter. She didn’t let go of Joey’s hair until they reached the ladder.

The other witch began to climb the ladder, with Joey behind her, and the other one behind Joey, leaving Joey trapped between the two. They came to a stop when they reached the top of the ladder, the witch moved her hand, effortlessly sliding the cover off the opening. Almost as soon as there was enough of an opening the witch was yanked out of the tunnel. Joey tried to take a step down, but the other witch was there, keeping her in place. Joey’s entire body shook as the screams of the witch echoed throughout the tunnel, you were there, waiting for them as they came up.

“Damn mutt,” the witch grumbled. “Go!” she ordered Joey, giving her a hard shove to force her to keep moving. As Joey got closer to the top the witch did a spell, sending the cover flying off the top.

Joey slowly peeked her head out of the hole, seeing you ripping apart the witch a few feet away. She quickly scrambled out of the tunnel, the other witch right behind her. Joey didn’t even have time to pull herself to her feet before she was gripping Joey by the back of the hair again. She held Joey up, making sure her head was pulled back so she could see everything. She whistled, getting your attention. Joey moved her feet, trying to pull away from the witch as your yellow eyes focused in on her.

Joey fumbled around until her finger brushed against the knife. Her gaze hardened as she tightened her grip around the handle before yanking it out of the holder and stabbed back, stabbing the witch in the side. The witch hissed as she let Joey go, making her stumble to the ground.

“You bitch!” the witch said, holding a hand to her bleeding wound. She raised her hand as if to do another spell, Joey’s eyes widened, her entire life flashing before her eyes, everything she didn’t get to do, Caleb, everything she didn’t get to tell him.

Death never came though. One second the witch was raising her hand towards Joey and the next you were digging into her hand, ripping it off before ripping into the rest of her. Joey wasn’t sure how much of your memory you had, if any, but it seemed like you remembered something because you were making this witch suffer more than the others. Her once-youthful face couldn’t be identified after you got done with her. The only way Joey would have been able to know who the witch was compared to the other was from her black braid.

Joey scrambled back as you looked over your shoulder while you were still crouched over the witch’s body. You turned around and stood to your full height, towering over Joey even when she wasn’t lying on the ground. She continued to scramble back, reaching for her gun as she did so.

You slowly stalked towards her on two feet, clearly not seeing her as a threat, not like the witches. Joey raised the gun and fired, the bullet sailing right past your head from how much her hands were shaking. She fired again and again, missing each time. You were nearly right in front of her, probably the easiest target she ever had, and she missed again. She dropped the gun, tears spilling out of her eyes as she accepted her fate.

A bright light filled the area, making Joey turn away, she thought she might actually be dead now but a second later a large truck came out of nowhere, hitting you, making you fly across the clearing. The truck spun around before parking. Joey raised her hand, squinting as the headlights were still shining on her, she saw someone hop out of the car and then a shot was fired.

Joey flinched her eyes widened as her vision cleared. Grace stood in front of her, a determined look on her face as she held up a shot gun, and began firing at you every time you stepped forward. Each shot found a home somewhere on you, whether it be your shoulder or your leg, you eventually went down. Joey could tell it wouldn’t kill you though, the wounds were healing, just not as fast as Grace was shooting. Grace fired a shot at your leg, sending you to the ground, then shot out your other leg, making you collapse fully.

She let go of the shot gun, letting it hang at her side as she lifted something Joey couldn’t see and pressed a button, dropping a ramp at the back of the truck. Joey got a better look at the truck, the wheels were huge, meant for off-roading, there were two seats up front and then the back was a giant metal trailer with no windows. As you pulled yourself to your feet Grace pressed another button and a large metal spike connected to a wire shot out of the trailer, impaling itself in your shoulder. You let out a roar just as Grace pressed another button, sending another spike into your other shoulder. You roared and thrashed around but the spikes never budged. Grace pressed another button, and the spikes began to retract, dragging you into the trailer.

As soon as you were in the trailer the ramp flipped up, sealing you inside. The entire trailer shook as you thrashed around on the inside. Joey wasn’t sure how strong you were, but she was surprised you hadn’t ripped a hole through the side yet. Joey furrowed her brow as Grace pressed another button, she couldn’t see anything happen but your thrashing around slowly got quieter, until there was none at all.

“We need to get moving,” Grace said, turning around and holding a handout to Joey. Joey took the hand, allowing Grace to pull her up without a word. “They’ll be out for a little while, but we need to get back home as quick as possible.”

Graced put her foot up, preparing to step into the truck again when she looked back, seeming to notice Joey hadn’t moved. Grace dropped her foot back down and walked over to Joey. “Hey,” she whispered, gently brushing her fingers against Joey’s arm, though Joey still flinched at the touch. “We need to move.”

Joey looked at Grace, tears still falling from her eyes. “You knew,” she rasped out. It was the only thing she could say, she didn’t know what else to say, what she wanted to say.

“I’m sorry,” Grace said, her voice the softest it had been since she arrived. “I promise I’ll explain everything, but we need to go.” Joey looked past Grace and at the trailer where she knew you resided. “They can’t escape.” Joey directed her attention back to Grace. “You have my word that you will be safe.”

There was no reason for her to trust anything Grace said after what just happened. Grace and you had been lying and keeping this secret from her since the beginning. Both of you willingly let her come on this mission knowing it was a full moon and what would happen to you. There was absolutely no reason to take Grace at her word again, but Joey did. Joey nodded and followed Grace into the truck. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, where this left her, she wasn’t sure what she even wanted anymore.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrry-lov3

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121

#joey abigail #joey (abigail)#ana lucia cruz #ana lucia cruz abigail #joey (abigail) x reader #ana lucia cruz x reader #melissa barrera #abigail movie #abigail 2024 #ana lucia cruz (joey)#a beacon in the dark

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dream-with-a-fever · 3 months ago

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harry potter movies and how accurately they portrayed the character of ginevra molly weasley

philosopher’s stone: 8/10 book accuracy bc my girl is barely in this movie but she nailed that 2 seconds of screen time in her cute little pastel coloured outfit! but lost points bc we didn’t get to see her again at the end nor did we see the twins promising to send her a hogwarts toilet seat (comedy GOLD i tell you)

chamber of secrets: 7/10 because yes we got to see a few cute moments where ginny got to shine (like ‘leave him alone!’ ate that) but would’ve loved to see her trying to tell harry about the diary and the running joke about percy and his new girlfriend, and where was the singing valentine???? c’mon??? everyone sing it with me ‘his eyes are as green-’ ALSO when she’s sobbing at the end about how she’ll having to leave hogwarts and she’s just this tiny scared little girl and i just want to hug her like we deserved those scenes!!:!:! and harry not telling anyone the details of what happened to protect her (bc he worries she’ll be blamed entirely for the incident like he’s too pure i swear????)

prisoner of azkaban: 8/10 as ginny is not really featured much in this book at All but was still bummed we didn’t get that scene on the train when she accidentally sits on harry’s lap and we see that she is the only other person as badly affected by the dementors as harry

goblet of fire: 11/10 book ginny energy is STRONGGG in this film even tho she’s barely present in the book! her snarky comments and attitude was Perfect but still bummed we didn’t see the scene where ron almost gets her to go with harry to the yule ball and she refuses (like the angel she is) and sticks w neville

order of the phoenix: 1.5/10 honestly that might even be too high bc literally WHERE WAS SHE??? she gets a couple points for the reducto curse moment but that’s about it. no hint of personality, still openly crushing on harry (even tho she has a boyfriend and is able to be herself around harry now HELLO this was major character development) no ‘lucky you’ scene, no library scene, no ginny stepping in to play seeker for harry and WINNING, no bickering at the DoM, no impressions of umbridge, no joking around with her brothers and harry, like we were ROBBED

half-blood prince: -100/10 because what the FUCK? shoelaces? hidden random kiss in the RoR? zero interactions and suddenly harry is In Love? ginny saying about 5 words in the entire film? ginny is the LIFE of this book, harry spends page after page obsessing over her, where’s them playing quiddich at the burrow, joking around after practise, ginny crashing into the commentator’s booth, ginny defending harry about the potions book, harry KISSING her in front of the entire common room after SHE won the quidditch cup playing his position because his dumbass got detention like?,!:?! harry wanting to save his liquid luck to have a chance with ginny?? ginny and ron’s big argument? harry and ginny’s break up after dumbledore’s funeral?? instead we got ginny being a mute with zero personality, who feeds harry christmas pies, wouldn’t know a joke if it hit her in the face and initiates everything despite harry being the one making the moves in the book?!??!??! just abhorrent. ginny weasley i am so sorry for what they did for her.

deathly hallows part 1: -45/10 okay ginny was done so dirty, ginny kissing harry as a birthday present, like a GOODBYE kiss??? as a i-don’t-know-if-i’ll-ever-see-you-again-but-please-know-that-i-love-you kiss???? harry calling ginny the most real thing in the world? ron snapping at harry for leading ginny on? harry almost accidentally telling ginny his plans for hunting voldemort bc he always lets his guard down around her? harry getting jealous when krum shows interest in ginny at the wedding? harry staring at her dot on the marauders map and making sure she’s safe????? instead we got.. an awkward kitchen kiss with george present (um?), zero interaction at the wedding, neville standing up to deatheaters on the train but ginny sitting pretty next to him and saying nothing when SHE WAS LEADING THE DAMN RESISTANCE???????:?:?:?: give me a fuckin break

deathly hallows part 2: -75/100 so! much! wrong! with her portrayal in this film. not to mention she’s barely in it, but when harry comes back to hogwarts, they have that one moment where they stare at each other and that’s it???? that’s all we get?? the rushed kiss on the staircase was lowkey cute but without all the build up from previous films it was just like..? ok? in the book we get ginny pushing to stay and fight and no one can convince her to do it, except harry. he’s the only one she listens to. we get harry saying ginny has somehow gotten more beautiful since he’s last seen her? we get jealous ginny when cho offers to show harry the diadem? we get harry walking to his death and seeing ginny crouched over an injured child, trying to calm the girl down despite her own world having fallen apart and one of her brothers already being dead, we get harry nearly changing course and going for bellatrix instead of voldemort when he sees ginny in trouble? also the entire epilogue??? basically cut… like that scene was so wholesome and funny, and getting to see harry and ginny as this family unit was so nice?? a ROBBERY i’m telling you.

#ginny weasley #harry x ginny #hp #hinny #book ginny #ginevra molly weasley #harry potter #chamber of secrets #prisoner or azkaban #goblet of fire #order of the phoenix #half-blood prince #deathly hallows #harry potter books vs movies

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arthenaa · 10 months ago

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a daffodil's camellia— ominis x gn!reader

summary: you think your purpose has always been to love him.

warnings: angst/no comfort, arranged marriage, indirect exclusion, HEARTACHE, unrequited love, reader is kinda a pushover but its bc of generational trauma guys !!! imelda is a great friend, the imelda bias here is unreal so sorry im just projecting, ableism behavior guys bc these mfs are too privileged, i am fr trying to break ur heart ig. NOT PROOFREAD im lazy.

note: HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!! i slept on this mb,,,,, the angst ominis fic that i talked abt last time but didn't upload until now .... oc cameo from @localravenclaw and @esolean !! (Ren and Lydia) hope u guys enjoy this! anys have fun reading

All your life, you think that this was what you’ve been born to do.

It’s engraved in years of tradition and history, a role you had to partake in the moment you came out of the womb. It was predetermined that your fate would end up in this situation.

Purity was an important factor for the historical families of the Wizarding world. Those who had come down from powerful bloodlines consider the tradition of keeping the family pure a sacred tradition of their power and authority over society.

A pedestal created from years and years of bloodshed to hone the perfection of wizardry and magic today. You suppose it was only an act of gratitude to be part of a long-lasting dynasty that preserved the sacred power of your ancestors. You know it’s an honor to be tasked with this role—to be given the duty of creating more branches for future generations.

You should know because this was what you were born to do.

Born and raised to be a bridge for other Pureblood families to lengthen their authority and claim over their self-built thrones. They say it’s a privilege—to be part of a family descended from the Great Four or just have connections with them through their ancestors’ relationships.

To be pure is to be great.

To be pure is to live a life filled with luxuries.

Opportunities are immediately given with just a snap of their fingers. Their authority precedes those whose blood is stained with the lesser. You’d think living a life of a pureblood would just entail all roses and gold.

Y/N would beg to differ.

“Keep your head bowed and hands on your lap,” Your mother’s voice is ever so cold. The carriage rustles with each bump against rocky terrain. You suppose it's about time you've gotten used to her tone but the booming surprise of her voice has a way of sinking its claws deep within your small heart. As a child, obedience was the foremost value you learned to be of importance. You knew that if you flick your head slightly off angle to your usual disposition due to an interest in your surroundings or the people around you, you would only get the receiving end of your mother’s wand. You knew that you'll be locked down in that dreaded abyss if your bow stuttered due to a misplacement of your foot in front of other pureblood families.

At a young age, you knew enough to not make a mistake.

Born third to the Rosier family's eldest son, you knew that your duty was to form connections—Marry off into other pureblood families and create the next generation of talented pureblood wizards. Wizards have the natural right to take what’s theirs because of their authority over society. A vision that threatens those beneath them.

So you keep your head bowed and palms tucked nicely on your lap with one palm over the other. Your mother is a cold and moving force beside you as you tried to match her pace despite your small little legs. At the age of 7, you are brought by your mother for marriage negotiations.

“Your husband will be an esteemed member of the Gaunts,” You remember your father declaring over tea. He sits menacingly in the front of the table, the glow of the flames behind him making his figure all the more unreachable. You know to only nod and not question any further. He makes a point by knocking on the wooden surface of the long dinner table that seems to stretch farther with each day. You wonder if the spaces beside you will ever be filled. You turn to him at the beckoning of your attention. “You listen carefully to your future husband, child. I cannot afford another failure.”

His words engrave deeply within your poor meek heart. You know that if you deny it, you’ll suffer the same fate that of your older sister—the one who tried to get a glimpse of the love and normalcy she desperately wanted yet ended with a tragedy.

You remembered that day in such vivid detail—the cold looks of your parents as they looked down at the state of their eldest daughter, who bawls and claws at any sort of reaction from the still and lifeless figure of her former lover.

So just like the obedient perfect child that you are, you nod and bow—subservient to the influences of those who claim to be wiser than you. You can only do so much to control your faith so alas, you let go and let the others hold the reigns.

That is until you meet him.

You were faintly aware of what he looked like. A boy with eyes as bright as the clouds, hair so smooth—so blonde that it gleams perfectly in the sunlight, and moles that litter his face, mimicking the night sky. These were murmurs of him from the servants in the halls of your manor. They say his beauty is compared to that of Rowena Ravenclaw and his demeanor spoke true as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. However, there were also whispers of his only flaw.

“They say the young lord does not see.”

You wondered before how true the nature of the gossip of the young lord was when you took your first step inside the Gaunt estate, but now, as you stand before him who seems detached from the world with his eyes as dull as the morning sky on a rainy day, you suddenly make a conclusive remark about him.

He was truly a sight to behold.

“This is the young Lord, Ominis Gaunt," His mother declares proudly from her place, chest puffed and earrings dangling from the heaviness of the jewels that clung tightly to their placements. His father stands idly and lets his wife do all the matching. Your mother only smiles, placing a firm hand on your back—reminding you of your duty.

You bow with the elegance that of a noble—A move you’ve honed to perfection from years and years of teaching and practice. You rise back up with the same pace, eyes peering up at him from your lashes. He only seems to daze off into the distance.

“This is Lady Y/N Rosier. We’ll serve you well.”

The silence is unbearable.

You think that maybe after the taxing interaction with the grown-ups and being able to interact alone with the young lord would allow you to finally discover his true personality.

That, however, continues to be a difficulty.

"Do you like fencing, my lord?" You ask, trying to break the ice as you sit across from him in one of the receiving rooms of the Gaunt's huge manor. "Or perhaps history?"

"Stop asking." He replies curtly, stance devoid of interest. You continue to dig deep into that shell of his, hoping that your incessant need to make conversation would crumble the defensive walls he put up.

"I hear you're quite skilled in astronomy, my lord—"

"Don't call me that."

"What do I call you then?" You perk up, cheeks gleaming with a smile. The furrowing of his eyebrows only digs deeper.

"It appears that I am an avid fan of silence. I suggest not speaking at all," For a 7-year-old, his voice is cold and authoritative. You suppose it's because of his closeness to the Great Four that he is granted with such ability to freely talk however he wants. Your eyes glimmer in awe.

"I just want to get to know my future husband," You retort, trying to make sense of your fiance. You pout like a child, feet swinging back and forth—allowing yourself a moment of reprieve from the stiffness of tradition. "Mother says it's customary for us to be familiar with one another at a young age to establish proper connec—"

His hands slam hard at the wooden surface of the table in front of you. You flinch, a bit surprised by his sudden show of strength. You admit that maybe you've gone a bit too far with the questioning, but it was all for a good purpose anyway! You two are to be one in due time. So, what was so wrong about getting to know him?

You wonder if you'll ever be like him someday. To carry himself in such a stance that he doesn't need to nod or bow to anyone. He tilts his head in the direction of your voice, face contorted into a glare.

"I'll be on my way," He murmurs, voice calm, and yet his disposition evokes anger and frustration. You watch him with bated breath as he walks towards the double doors, the servants bowing and opening it for him with ease.

You know that this should be the final nail in the coffin. To detest the boy you'll soon marry as he turns into a man whose values and inhibitions clung onto him like a wolf who won't release it's jaws onto prey. You know and yet your fingers crumple the fabric of your skirt, eyes looking forward to your next meeting.

The next time you meet him is over tea. It was the turn of the Gaunts to visit your manor as dictated by the tradition of courting within noble houses. You've practiced this scenario over and over. Countless of times alone, with your governess, and with your mother. It's engraved within the depths of your mind as the wounds of the past sting with each sip of your drink.

Act like a noble. Drink like a high-born. Be a pureblood.

The thoughts ring harshly with each thump of your beating heart. Your fingers twitch, and your form stiffens—all for the sake of tradition. The words branding the forefront of your mind as you feel the intensity of your mother's gaze.

I have to do good. I need to do good.

"Your estate is a wonderful place, Lady Rosier," The Gaunt Matriarch addresses your mother with an esteemed elegance—to which your mother only responds with a courteous smile, a part of her façade.

Your mother never liked purebloods but she respected tradition. She smiles and bows in front of her peers but mocks and beseeches them in the comfort of her room.

You don't understand your mother but as a young child, validation from her was the only thing you ever wanted.

And so you try.

"It's all due to our ancestors' hard work in keeping the Rosier history alive through the manor's architecture," You respond, lips contorted into a gentle smile. The Gaunts seem impressed by your interest in the conversation and from the corner of your eye, you see your mother shift in her seat.

"I see," Lord Gaunt eyes you with a glint of interest in his eye, and he shifts his attention to your parents. "Lord and Lady Rosier, you've raised a daughter worthy of her blood. I applaud you."

Your mother smiles and for the first time, you feel your heart thump at the recognition of doing good. She then responds, "As they should be. It is their role to be worthy and I'm sure she'll be a wonderful spouse to the young master."

Your attention then shifts to the quiet blonde sitting idly in his seat. His face is stone cold, eyes dull, and fists clenching the material of his seat so hard it turns white.

Anger was the first emotion you've seen on Ominis's face.

You wonder if you'll get to see more.

"Aren't you excited?"

You squeal, influenced by the utter joy of finally attending school. It's your first year.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where most wizarding families are built and made from. Many of your relatives built their name from their experiences as a student in Hogwarts—after all it was in your blood to be ambitious. To dream of the impossible and achieve it by any means. That's why your family house dons the colors of green and silver—a direct allegiance to the house of Slytherin, that of which many of your blood relatives reside during their time as a student.

While being excited about Hogwarts was already a given factor as a child of magic, there's also one thing you're most excited about.

"Stop bouncing about, Y/N," Ominis grumbled as he heaved his bag over his shoulder. "We still have to find our damn car."

Your relationship with Ominis did progress in some ways. He's less grouchy now and tolerates your personality enough to let you stay by his side. You've gotten used to its indifference but you think that it's good progress with how he talks more with you albeit still with glares and a cold demeanor.

He pays you no mind as he traverses through the narrow pathway of the train with the guide of his wand. You follow closely behind, hands carrying your suitcase as Ominis guides you to your assigned car.

"I can't help it, I'm literally bursting with energy," You whine as Ominis finally reaches your destination, slides the door open, and places his things inside. He plops down to the farthest corner and leans back to rest. You immediately claim the seat next to him to which he grumbles.

"There's plenty of seats for you to take," He scowls, gesturing to the empty seats in front of you both. You only giggle as you snuggle up next to him.

"Oh don't be such a stone-faced troll, Ominis!" You whine, slapping his arm. He tenses with anger at the gesture. "It's natural for me as your fiancée to be as close to you as possible."

"Stop calling yourself that," His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, jaw clenching in anger. You roll your eyes, not minding his hostility.

"But I am though?"

"I swear to Merlin's name and everything he holds dear, if you don't—"

The slide of the door halts your conversation as your eyes and his head flick toward the sudden disturbance. Two brunettes pop in, one seemingly looking like a direct copy of the other. They blink, eyebrows raised as they stare at the two of you.

"116?" The boy asks with an awkward smile. "Are we interrupting something?"

You pull yourself slowly from Ominis's space at the prospect of new friendships. You smile. "No worries, just a lovers' quarrel. I assume you're the ones we'll share the car with?"

"There is no lovers' quarrel." Ominis firmly states. The two purse their lips in slight hesitance. "Please, do join us though. Merlin knows I need it."

The two then make their way to sit in the remaining two empty seats, placing their luggage in the compartment under. You smile as they settle down in their seats, bright smiles plastered on their faces.

"Right," The boy starts. "Uh, I'm Sebastian Sallow and this is my sister, Anne. It's nice to meet you both."

You nod excitedly at the introduction, delighted to make friends at the present opportunity.

"I'm Y/N Rosier," You respond. You then gesture to the blonde next to you. "And this is Ominis Gaunt, my fian—"

"Friend." Ominis cuts through, overpowering your voice. You turn to him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "They mean friend."

The twins glanced at the two of you, puzzled by the shifting of the balance in your dynamics. Anne breaks the silence.

"Well, we'll be spending quite a long while here, I hope to make your acquaintance," The Sallow girl beams. Sebastian nods at his sister's words while Ominis responds with a hum of agreement.

There's not much to say when the group falls into silence once more. The four of you were strangers after all, still not used to the presence of someone new but the feeling is welcomed.

Your eyes glance at Ominis who seems to have been resting his eyes, leaning his head against the wall—waiting for the train to begin its course. The corner of your lips curl up at his iridescent beauty.

The train sounds its whistle beginning your journey.

"Are you dumb?"

Imelda blatantly states as she stares at you with disinterest in her eyes. She takes a bite of her apple. "Or just purely ignorant of what's actually happening?"

On your 3rd year at Hogwarts, you somehow get grounded to reality through the presence of Imelda Reyes.

You suppose it's all in due time that you'd be awakened from the trauma-inducing nightmare of tradition and sacred rules of your family. The need to fulfill your role. To give Ominis a home he needs, a family he wants, and a lover he deserves. You suppose that your role overshadowed your judgment of his character and behavior.

You had gotten used to it. To his blatant ignorance of your efforts, the glares, sarcastic comments, seething scoffs, or the fact that sometimes, he doesn't see you at all.

He's always like this, you think. You were never bothered by his indifference. You believed that you could love him enough for the both of you.

You were stupidly wrong about that too.

Sebastian and Anne are terrific company. After being acquainted in your first year, your little group had been formed then and there. The two of them stayed for the past 2 years and you were truly grateful for them. However, the twins were mostly close to Ominis. You didn't mind the gaps between you and the siblings seeing as you prioritized your relationship with Ominis more than anything.

You never really considered it to be a bad thing.

That is until Imelda begins to scratch at the surface of your finely built walls.

You purse your lips, minding your own business as you continue to sew a new stitch into the stretched fabric. You were unfortunate enough to share the dorm room with Imelda and while you enjoyed the rambunctious' Slytherin Quidditch Captain's companionship, this was certainly not something you'd rather talk with her. Everything was fine and there was no need to nitpick at every detail.

Your needle pokes through the hole, goes in, then out—thread sliding swiftly in the path you've carved out for it.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Imelda," You try to deflect her inquisitive nature. She rolls her eyes.

"It's just–" She pauses to readjust her position, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees—she eyes you with keen interest. "I'm truly amazed how you've gone 3 years with him."

You glance up at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Stop speaking ill of Ominis."

Imelda lets out a loud laugh at your response. "And you even dare to defend him? Are you sure you're not dumb?"

You forcefully drop your sewing tools on your lap as you heave a sigh at her words. You turn to face her fully. "What do you want?"

"Why stay?" She responds, direct. She takes another bite of the apple.

There's a momentary pause of silence as the question rings in your mind. You had half a mind to just drop the conversation and leave but some part of you somehow wanted to defend yourself.

"He's just Ominis. He's always been like that," You respond, chest puffed in self-proclaimed confidence. "We grew up together. We're promised for each other. That's all I need—"

A sudden burst of laughter from Imelda catches you off guard. You flinch in surprise as you watch the brunette Slytherin double down in laughter. Somehow, the clawing feeling inside you becomes more prominent with each giggle and huff from the woman's lips. Your nail begins to scratch at the skin of your thumb.

"H-Holy shit," Imelda sighs in laughter, brushing off a stray tear. She giggles a few more times before finally settling down with a smile. "You're worse than I thought."

She tilts her head with a condescending look on her face.

"Have you ever seen him with the twins? Alone?" She asks. That sets off wave after wave of uncomfortable thumping within your chest. You let out a shaky breath. "I suppose you don't because you're always so focused on your dearest fiance—Actually, y'know! If you just tried to properly look at him. Maybe, just maybe, you'd finally get a grasp of yourself."

Your jaw clenches and palms sweat.

"Stop it." You try to get a hold of yourself. To take control of the situation and get a grip on your thoughts that seem to get more and more chaotic as time passes. However, despite your tries, Imelda overpowers you once more.

"Y/N," She leans forward to rest her arms on the wooden surface of the table. "Maybe, you don't know much about him at all."

Your eyes are locked on hers at the prompt of her words. You can't bring yourself to deny despite the flurry of emotions bursting within you. She tilts her head and gives you a sympathetic look.

You walked out with no response.

On your 5th year, the presence of a new student shook the halls of Hogwarts.

It was uncommon, of course, that a wizard would get admitted at such a late year and while the idea of a new 5th year would turn a few heads in curiosity, this was not the only source of attention.

Over the course of the first few days back to school, you hear talks of the new 5th year's incredible feats of surviving against a dragon attack. There were exaggerations, of course, and different variants of the story with how widespread the gossip had reached, but it all reached the same conclusion at the end.

This new girl had already made her mark as a formidable wizard.

You admired her at first, wanting to know how she did it and what brought on such circumstances. However, there was a slight uncomfortable nagging deep within the depths of your heart at your first meeting. While you felt regretful of such impression despite her kind deportment, you still felt uneasy at the arrival of her presence.

It was probably partly because of Anne's leave of absence since the start of your 5th year. Sebastian was quite privy to the details concerning Anne's sudden absence. You knew she was sick, but other than that, you were quite left in the dark. You convinced yourself that maybe Sebastian feels conflicted when talking about it, and his sudden avoidance of you bringing up the topic proves a testament to that. However, you've seen him and Ominis on the train when you came back after getting refreshments. You've seen Ominis give him a comforting hug—an affection you've barely received from him if there was any at all. You've seen Sebastian tap Ominis to stop talking whenever you enter the room.

People tend to have that misconception that you're awfully unaware of your surroundings due to you being characterized as a 'pushover.' You knew that your bond with Ominis or Sebastian was way different than what they had for each other. You knew it and chose not to dwell too much on the semantics. You'd rather focus on Ominis. On being the person he deserves.

This was solidified when Sebastian began including her in your lunch hangouts.

You were unfortunate enough to be separated from Sebastian and Ominis for your Potions lecture. You had to scour across the castle just to get with them for lunch. They were usually at the same place—lounging around in the Defense against the Dark Arts Tower or the Undercroft.

This time, however, you were finding it quite hard to spot the two.

"Look," Lydia Parkinson, a Ravenclaw from your year, twirls the cup of drink in her hand as she lazily looks up at you due to the lulling atmosphere of the afternoon. "Maybe you could just have lunch with us. Just saying."

Seated beside Lydia is Ren Aries, your potions seatmate (also a Ravenclaw). She has rumored romantic ties with Sebastian, which brought you to their spot in the Great Hall in the first place. Who else would know Ominis's best friend better than you?

Your eyes turn to Ren, who merely rests her chin on her palm propped up by her elbow on the table. "Don't look at me."

"You're basically dating!" You whine, hands grabbing on your books tighter. "Of course, you know where he is."

"No, we're not." Ren answers swiftly.

"Wrong." Lydia raises a breadstick and accusingly points it at Ren.

"Is she talking to you? I don't think so." Ren swats her hand away, causing the breadstick to fly across the table and into a group of first years. The three of you immediately turn your heads, not willing to face the confused glances on their faces.

Just as the first years begin to mind their own business, Lydia begins to lean in with pursed lips. "Well, I might've heard that the two left the Great Hall with the new fifth—"

Suddenly a loud slap intercepts her words. You flinch back at the sudden movement, watching as Lydia rubs her arm as she crumples over the table. Ren sends a glare toward Lydia before turning to you with a half-lidded stare.

"Don't mind her. She's delirious after drinking the pumpkin juice." Ren intercepts easily, not minding her best friend wincing beside her. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"I heard what she said?'

"No you didn't."

"I mean ..." You trailed off, eyes glancing between the two. "I just heard her say the new fifth year."

There's an uncomfortable silence as the two gaze at you with an unreadable stare. Somehow, this gaze seems quite familiar. You've seen it from Imelda, from Anne during your short moments together, and now these two. A budding stem of annoyance begins to grow in your skin.

"Why are you looking at me like that? They're probably just hanging out." You shrug it off like you've always had. It is no use fretting over such simple matters.

"Sure they are—" Lydia chuckles before Ren sends a nudge to her ribs. The redhead merely groans and grabs at the edge of the table. You look at her in concern.

"As I said, delirious." Ren lightly curls the corners of her lips to give you a polite smile. There's a pause of silence before Ren sighs—eyes gazing with an unreadable expression on her face. Your fingers twitch at its familiarity.

"They're in the Undercroft, Y/N." She says, nodding slightly. There's a slight hesitance to her tone of response as if telling you where they were wasn't something she was supposed to be doing. "Sebastian dropped by our table to tell me that, just in case I wanted to join."

Sebastian referred to Ren. Just in case she wanted to join. You wanted to ask if Ominis at least told her to tell you, but you're too much of a coward to do that.

You couldn't will yourself to look at her eyes, afraid that you might finally recognize the emotion that lingers in the depths of her mind. You suppose the inquisitive and empathetic nature of Ravenclaw runs deep within Ren's blood.

You nod as a thanks and left without a word.

You hear laughter first. Your footsteps halt at the archway of the Undercroft—breath faltering as your eyes find the familiar tufts of blonde you've grown to love over the years.

Normally, you would've already bounced over to him, reveling in his attention no matter how negative or neutral it might appear. You would've teased him and wormed your way into his arms.

However, things were quite different from where you were standing.

You hadn't had the opportunity to meet the new 5th year. You only relied on hushed whispers and murmurs across the halls of Hogwarts just to get a glimpse of what she was actually like. You take slow steps towards the source of laughter, eyes trained on their figures—smiles, and gleeful expressions plastered on their faces.

You're caught off guard by the unfamiliar presence of the new fifth year—hair as dark as midnight with a touch of silver strands that decorate the front of her hair like the stars that litter the sky. She's as pretty as they say, as radiant as they whispered about, and evokes the aura of a true born wizard.

However, the true reason for her shock lies in the fact that Ominis—the man she'd known to be stoic, unmoving, and unphased, was laughing. Ominis was laughing.

"Oh, Y/N." It's Sebastian who notices you first. You flinched at the greeting, watching as the other two paused—the new fifth year turning towards you with wide curious eyes, and Ominis subtly turned his head away from you. Your breath hitches at his actions. Sebastian awkwardly glances between the two of you. "I think this is the first time you actually met Nora. Nora, this is Y/N Rosier. Y/N, this is Nora Finley."

Nora waves at you with a smile. "Hi Y/N. Hope you don't mind me intruding."

"None at all." You reply eyes glancing at Ominis who continues to have his back towards you. You decide to continue the conversation. "I was looking for you guys. I thought we were going to have lunch."

"Oh," Sebastian scratches the back of his head, hesitantly glancing at Ominis who continuously remains silent and indifferent. "We already had lunch. Sorry."

You slowly nod in an understanding, a stiff smile plastered on your face.

"That was because you were too hungry to wait," Nora intercepts with joking shove. "Apologies, Y/N. I didn't know they were waiting for someone else."

Your finger twitches slightly at her words. "It's fine."

"I was waiting for Ren! Ominis was just being an asshole." Sebastian defends himself which earns a slap on the arm from Nora. Then, you suddenly hear Ominis speak up.

"Not my fault you were actually coward enough to not go to her yourself," Ominis says. This earns a laugh from Nora who bumps her shoulders against Ominis. "I had to pull you over." The three laugh at the situation at hand, faces plastered with glee and comfort.

So Ominis was there, with Ren and the others. Yet no one thought of telling you where they were. An anxious heavy feeling settles over your chest.

Suddenly, you feel out of place. Your ears ring, zoning out, as their motion becomes more distorted in your eyes. You feel as though you shouldn't be here—that you're the one intruding instead. The ache overwhelms you.

Your feet shuffle a few steps back. "I-I'll get going." You say, voice weak as you announce your departure. Sebastian gives you a moment's glance before nodding. Nora gives you a big wave (you feel bad, she's too much of an angel). However another reason piles onto your aching heart—mind in a daze as it beats fast with anxiety.

Ominis had not once acknowledge your presence.

You leave with your dignity intact.

Seeing Nora is now a regular occurrence.

You didn't mind it at first. You liked the girl. She was a social butterfly, easy to talk to, and her presence brought comfort whenever she was around. You couldn't argue the comfortable nature of Sebastian and Ominis around her. While you were also a generally talkative and social person, it still varied among your peers. Your personality often ventures between the lines of introvert and extrovert—only becoming active to a certain amount of people, and silent to the rest.

However, despite your positive impression on Nora, there was also the case between her and Ominis. You've seen them hanging about in various points of the castle. Even going out together when they leave classes. You haven't had much alone time to spend with Ominis as he somehow begins to become more non-approachable and cold as days pass by. Somehow, he becomes more indifferent than before.

Back then, Ominis indulges in your whims despite his initial opposition. You suppose it's probably to get you to stop, but he had always listened—one way or another. Now, he merely leaves without a word—cutting you off mid-talk and bouncing off to Nora who had just entered the room.

Your heart begins to waver and your breath speeds up. You couldn't deny the hurt that flows through you with each indifferent response of your fiance. Your fiance. He was yours as much as you were his.

So why does it feel like you're the one intruding?

"What do you think we should get Anne, Omi?" You smile, siding up to Ominis whose hands run through the braille engraved on his book. "Do you think we should get her some scented candles?"

"Anne has a sensitive nose." Ominis furrows his eyebrows before slightly tilting his head towards you. "Didn't you know that?"

"I did!" You respond with a defensive tone. Of course, you did. Anne was your friend. "I was going to buy her those simple scented candles. Just to help her with the stress."

Ominis scoffs at your words before going back to reading his book. Just as you inquire a little more about his day, you hear Nora and Sebastian chattering as they reach your spot. You were about to greet them when you felt Ominis nudge your hold away from his arm. You flinch at its intensity as he rises from his seat to walk towards the two—specifically in Nora's direction.

Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, knocking against your ribs like an ache you can't explain. You sit silently, eyes watching as they chatter amongst themselves. The looming realization begins to crawl under your skin, chipping at you—limb from limb. Your breath falters.

"Y/N!" Nora greets like the angel that she is. You smile back, albeit forced and hesitant but welcomed her warmth with open arms. She slides up to you, before calling over the two. They follow with ease. You feel Nora's arm intertwine with yours, thumbing the cloth of your robe.

Just as the two have finally settled down, Nora begins the conversation. "I'm glad you don't have DADA with these two. It's always a chaos."

You nod, still quite perplexed by the whole situation. "Really?"

"Please, Nora." Sebastian teases, arms propped on the table. "Just say you're mad that I beat you at a duel."

"Throwing a ragged cloth to my face before casting a Levioso isn't a win that you think it is." Ominis intercepts with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Blah, blah. Looks like a skill issue to me." Sebastian leans back, arms crossed over his chest. He rolls his eyes playfully. "Life isn't fair on the battlefield, Finley."

Nora turns to you with a scrunched nose. "Are you really friends with these guys?"

You find yourself pausing at her question. Thankfully, she laughs afterward, pulling tease after teasing towards Sallow. The question begins to etch into your brain as your mind conjured every possible interaction you had with Sebastian. Was he even your friend? You remember the silence and the awkward tensions whenever Ominis had to go to the bathroom or get called up by Professor Weasley. Even before then, when Anne was present in your little group of 4, the twins were always stuck to the hip, if not with Ominis. Never the three of you alone together.

Never with you.

You suppose Imelda was right. Blinded by the idea and concept of love through duty, you unintentionally neglected the possible ties that you could've had with the twins. You felt helpless.

"Oh, yeah. Before I forget, what are we getting Anne this weekend?"

Your head turn towards Nora in surprise. "You're coming?"

There's a momentary pause at your question. You wouldn't have minded it before, but now you feel the stares clawing at your skin.

"Of course, she is." Ominis replies with a tone of disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous."

"She hasn't met Anne, though? I don't think—"

"Don't speak for my sister, Y/N." Sebastian cuts through the tension with an offhanded response. You turn towards him in surprise. Nora shifts uncomfortably beside you. "We already planned this. Let's just go with it."

"You didn't tell me anything?" You're not sure as to why your voice suddenly begins to rise. Your hands clench under the table.

"My bad?" Sebastian shakes his head in confusion, as if he's the one incovenienced. "Listen up, next time then? Instead of you know—ogling Ominis, all the time?"

"Sebastian!" Nora calls out, perplexed at the sudden hostility. The brown-haired Slytherin merely turns his head away. A dreadful feeling submerges over your body as you glance at Ominis who sports an indifferent look in his face. There's a paused silence before Sebastian stands from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Nora asks, worried.

"Out. I'm floo-ing to Hogsmeade for the gift. Catch up if you guys want to." Sebastian mumbles in response. He leaves abruptly, robe trailing behind him.

Just as you were about to turn to Ominis, he stands up. "Omi?"

"You should've known better." Ominis mutters. Your breath hitches at his words. He follows through with Sebastian. Your hand clenches into a fist.

"Y/N," Nora grasps at your arm with slight comfort. You couldn't be mad at her even if you wanted to. "Are you okay?"

Your head is lowered, hair framing your face as you try to gather your emotions. You then turn towards her with a smile you've practiced from your childhood days.

"I'm fine."

The silence was unbearable.

You're not sure when was the last time you and Ominis were seated together in a room, alone—much less the receiving room of your manor. You can feel the nervousness clawing up your throat. Your mother had persisted on the two of you visiting the manor during your winter break. You wanted to accept the invitation at first, seeing as this was an opportunity to spend time with Ominis.

But seeing the disdain on his face as soon as you told him the news, somehow regret only fills your body. You had no choice either way.

"Is Hogwarts treating you well?" Your mother sips her tea with the elegance fitting for her role as the matriarch of the house. You shift in your seat, uneasy from her attention.

"Well enough," Ominis answers from your side. His face lacks the enthusiasm of talking to your family.

Your mother furrows her eyebrows at the response but doesn't say anything regardless. "I do hope you're both preparing for your engagement once you graduate in 2 years. Merlin knows how much both of our families have prepared for it."

You nod submissively, unable to resist the pointed stare your mother gives you. Ominis stands abruptly at her words, not opting to pardon himself as he walks out of the room. There's paused silence before your mother scoffs.

"Insolent child," She seethes, taking a sip out of her cup. "If it weren't for his family name and heritage, we would've found you a more suitable heir to marry. Merlin knows his family's treating him like a dispensable asset, when his brother's already married and up to take the role as head of the house."

You sit silently, eyes focused on the untouched cup of tea. Your mother's voice booms through the room, causing you to flinch at its sudden intensity.

"Go after him, Y/N. Beg on your knees if you have to. Keep him tied to the leash before he goes off pawing at others." Your mother orders. "Your sister's a testament to that. Do I make myself clear?"

Your mother's word was law. Everyone in the house knew that. Even your father, who is recognized as the head of the house. She easily controls those around her to do her bidding, and those who resist are met with dire consequences. You'd rather be by her side than against her blade.

"Yes, mother."

You found him by the courtyard.

Your family dog, an Alpine Mastiff that was gifted for your father by a collector of muggle creature, pants against his lap—enjoying the gentle caresses that Ominis runs through his fur. He sits against the huge tree in the middle, the leaves giving his face a gentle shade from the light. You make careful steps before standing in front of him.

"Feeling lethargic, Omi?" You smile. The dog, Xavier, looks up at you with its sleepy eyes before yawning against Ominis's touch.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He replies, eyes devoid of emotion. He merely runs back and forth Xavier's fur as if its stimulation calms his nerves.

"You never allow me to call you anything." You retort, voice calm as you look down at him with a forlorn expression. He doesn't need to know that.

Ominis shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "That's because we're not friends."

You purse your lips before responding. "If you say stuff like that, I'll get hurt, Omi."

Ominis chuckles. "You've bound me to your chains, made me a spectacle with your jokes, and you're worried about getting hurt over the truth?"

You stared at him as he continues to pet the massive dog on his lap. You've gone through this routine before, and you'll go through it again. Why get hurt now?

There's a miniscule pause of silence before you let out a laugh at his words. "So touchy with everything, Omi. You really hate me that much?"

It's a joke. Don't take it to heart.

"Yes," He answers with no hesitation, face devoid of any emotion. He finally looks up and its as if those beautiful cloudy blue eyes could stare through you. "Yes, I do."

It's not true.

You've observed Ominis enough to know what he's thinking.

As much as others regarded him as an intimidating figure, he quite wears his heart on his sleeve. You know when he's angry, when he's joking, being sarcastic, sad, or whatever version of Ominis you're facing for the day. You didn't spend 8 years of your life loving him just for you to not recognize every detail on his face.

You've known him well enough to recognize patterns on his behavior, subtle differences to his emotions, and his current mood of the day. If anything, you're well versed in Ominis's body language, that you've grown well accustomed to how you act around him based on it.

That's why besides you're being hit with two realities, instead of one.

You've watched them from across the hall, chatting up a storm as the three of them were huddled in the corner. You've long since opted to observing them rather than being in the group itself, and ever since then, you've begin noticing things you weren't supposed to.

"What's got you looking so focused there?" Imelda's voice reaches your senses as a figure settles beside you. You give her a glance before looking back at the trio. She hums, following your line of sight. "Looking at your asshole of a lover boy again?"

"Don't I ever?" You sarcastically remark, laughing slightly. Imelda looks at you with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

"Wow," She nods. "That's improvement. You don't make sarcastic remarks when I point out your obsession with white boy over there."

You glance at her, heaving a breath as you contemplated letting Imelda know of your thoughts as of late. You suppose that she's the only person who has been real with you since the start. Everything's been a blur since your visit with Ominis to your manor. You've been trying your hardest to appear normal but things had just gone way off. You've started to distance yourself as well, only responding when asked or talked to—which most of the case is Nora's doing. Though, with Sebastian's constant needs for adventure and Nora's inquisitive nature, she had also lost the attention towards your interaction with the group.

With Ominis, you knew well enough that wherever Nora and Sebastian went, he went to as well. You've seen the three of them flee the Great Hall, not minding your lack of presence to the group. 4 years as a group of friends and 8 years with Ominis, and they haven't had a single thought about you that passed through their minds.

You suppose you should've gotten used to their exclusion to your presence. You're partly aware that this is due to the engagement between you and Ominis, how much he despises the centuries-old tradition of marrying those of the same stature as he is. How much he detests the forced nature of your relationship. You wished you had the power to null it, to start over, and meet him under different circumstances. To dream of a reality where he actually finds love in you, and wishes for a future with you in it.

But alas, life is hard for someone like you. To hold so much authority within your fingertips but be shackled by tradition and generational trauma. You've long accepted your demise.

"Ominis likes Nora." The words slips out of your mouth with ease. Like what you just said was something out of the news. Imelda chokes at what she hears. You look at her with concern.

"E-excuse me?"

"Ominis likes Nora." You repeat calmly. Imelda sweatdrops, moving to stand in front of you as she analyzed your facial expression.

"You're saying that like it's the weather—are you okay?" She asks, worried.

You shrug, eyes looking down at your twiddling thumbs. "It's inevitable. Everyone knows about it, no?"

Imelda pauses, face cringing as she places her hands on her hips. You chuckle at the silent admission. "I'm always a bit too late."

"Look, Y/N," She sighs, taking a step forward as she places a hand on your arm. "Ominis was doomed to be your fiance from the start. He's an asshole and just overall rude! You've got nothing much to lose anyway!"

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before pulling between your teeth. "I do. That's not how it works, Imelda."

You glance up at her, finally meeting her concerned eyes. She lets out a breath at your forlorn expression.

"I always knew Ominis didn't like what we had. I've spent most of my childhood years with him to not know the familiarity of his disdain." You reply. You recall the times you've received cold and indifferent actions from him. "He's made himself clear. I was always the one who wanted more."

"Y/N," Imelda sighs.

"I don't think Ominis ever considered me to be someone dear to him," You whispered. "I had always been something he easily cast aside. A nuisance—I've seen the way he whispers to Sebastian whenever I've said something they considered out of line. I was never something he deemed important."

Imelda is silent. You heave a sigh.

"He's happy now." You mutter. "Nora's everything I'm not, and even if I wanted to hate her, despise her—she's so pure and likeable that it's so unfair. Why is it so unfair?"

You feel tears well in your eyes. Imelda's breath hitches at the sight. She looks around, trying to see if anyone was watching. She then hears the familiar voices of the three. Soon enough she sees them walking over to pass by their area. Imelda did what she could only think of.

She pulls her off her robe before throwing it over your head, shielding you from their stares. She pulls you in her arms as the three near towards you. You couldn't see a thing but you could hear them.

"... Imelda?" Sebastian's voice comes out as confused, probably because of her hooded figure. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Imelda smiles, hands making gentle pats to your back. "Friend's not feeling well. Hope you don't mind."

There's pause of silence before Ominis responds. You feel your heart speed up. "Ah, hope they'll feel better."

"They hear that quite well!" Imelda responds with enthusiasm. You slump against her hold, feeling lethargic from thinking.

"Alright, we'll get going." Sebastian waves before the two follow them off. Just as the three of them began to make their way down the hall, you hear Nora suddenly backtrack.

"Ah, by the way, if you do see Y/N around, tell her that Professor Weasley's asking for her?" Nora says. Your body freezes and its as if Imelda had felt it as she had pulled you closer.

"S-sure." Imelda responds. The three of them began to go on their way, chatting and laughing as they disappear down the hall.

Imelda finally pulls her robe off you, eyes filled with concern. "Y/N ..."

"They knew I wasn't around," You mumble, breath trembling, and eyes devoid of emotion. "They knew. He knew."

Imelda raises a hand to fix your hair before smiling. "There's nothing much I can say that will be of help, but I do hope that you'll take care of yourself—Of what you'll do from here on out."

You pause at her words before nodding silently.

The realization settles in and its heartbreaking and grueling. However, despite that, things haven't been much clearer than before. You'll set things right. For him. For yourself.

Because love is your greatest weakness, no? Your greatest threat. Love for him, and love for your family.

Whichever will prevail?

A/N: before yall ask, yes this will have a part 2 ... i just really wanted to finish this and it went beyond what ive planned. stay tuned mwehe!!! this will not have a happy ending btw. the title daffodil's camellia is in reference to their meaning in love. daffodil can mean new beginnings but it can also mean unrequited love, camellia means romantic love or devotion. just wanted to let yall know that!

#arthenaa #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt angst #hogwarts legacy angst #ren aries #lydia parkinson #hl ocs #nora finley mwehe

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chosetherose · 2 years ago

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Updated as of 6/30

The Eras Tour *Surprise Songs*

Taylor said her goal is to not repeat each show’s surprise songs so I thought it would be fun to track them as the tour goes on! Black strikethrough is included in the main set list. Purple strikethrough are included in the main set list but have been switched up at some show/s. Blue songs Taylor played but might be repeated due to messing up.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw (3/17) • Picture to Burn • Teardrops on My Guitar (5/5) • A Place in This World (4/22) • Cold as You (4/23) • The Outside • Tied Together with a Smile • Stay Beautiful• Should’ve Said No (5/19) • Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) • Our Song (3/24) • I’m Only Me When I’m with You (6/30) • Invisible (5/20) • A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Fearless • Fifteen (5/6) • Love Story • Hey Stephen (5/14) • White Horse (3/25) • You Belong With Me • Breathe• Tell Me Why• You’re Not Sorry (4/21) • The Way I Loved You • Forever & Always (5/13) • The Best Day (5/14) • Change • Jump Then Fall (4/2) • Untouchable • Come In With The Rain • Superstar • The Other Side Of The Door (4/28) • You All Over Me (6/3) • Mr. Perfectly Fine (6/16) • We Were Happy • That’s When • Don’t You • Bye Bye Baby • Today was a fairytale (4/22)

Speak Now

Mine (5/7) • Sparks Fly (5/5) • Back To December • Speak Now (4/13, Taylor restarted part of the song but did not confirm it could be played again) • Dear John (6/24) • Mean (4/15) • The Story Of Us (6/17) • Never Grow Up • Enchanted • Better Than Revenge • Innocent• Haunted (6/9) • Last Kiss • Long Live • Ours (3/31) • If This Was A Movie (6/23) • Superman

Red

State Of Grace (3/18) • Red (5/21) • Treacherous (4/13) • I Knew You Were Trouble • All Too Well • 22 • I Almost Do (6/9) • We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together • Stay Stay Stay • The Last Time (6/16) • Holy Ground (5/27) • Sad Beautiful Tragic (3/31) • The Lucky One (4/2) • Everything Has Changed • Starlight • Begin Again (4/23) • The Moment I Knew (6/4) • Come Back… Be Here (5/12) • Girl At Home • Ronan • Better Man (5/19) • Nothing New • Babe • Message In A Bottle • I Bet You Think About Me (4/30) • Forever Winter • Run • The Very First Night • All Too Well – 10 Minute Version

1989

Welcome To New York (5/28) • Blank Space • Style • Out Of The Woods (5/6, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • All You Had To Do Was Stay • Shake It Off • I Wish You Would (6/2) • Bad Blood • Wildest Dreams • How You Get The Girl (4/30) • This Love (5/13) • I Know Places • Clean (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again, 5/28) • Wonderland (4/21) • You Are In Love • New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready For It? • End Game • I Did Something Bad • Don’t Blame Me • Delicate • Look What You Made Me Do • So It Goes… • Gorgeous (4/29) • Getaway Car (5/26) • King Of My Heart • Dancing With Our Hands Tied • Dress • This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things • Call It What You Want • New Year’s Day

Lover

I Forgot That You Existed • Cruel Summer • Lover • The Man • The Archer • I Think He Knows (5/21) • Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince • Paper Rings (6/23) • Cornelia Street • Death By A Thousand Cuts (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • London Boy • Soon You’ll Get Better • False God (5/27) • You Need To Calm Down • Afterglow • Me! • It’s Nice To Have A Friend • Daylight (6/24) • All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before

Folklore

The 1 (replaced IS multiple shows) • Cardigan • The Last Great American Dynasty • Exile with Bon Iver • My Tears Ricochet • Mirrorball (3/17) • Seven (spoken, 6/17) • August • This Is Me Trying (3/18) • Illicit Affairs • Invisible String (replaced by T1 multiple shows) • Mad Woman (4/15) • Epiphany • Betty • Peace • Hoax • The Lakes (6/2)

Evermore

Willow • Champagne Problems • Gold Rush (5/12) • Tis The Damn Season • Tolerate It • No Body, No Crime • Happiness • Dorothea • Coney Island (4/28) • Ivy • Cowboy Like Me (3/25) • Long Story Short • Marjorie • Closure • Evermore (6/30) • Right Where You Left Me •It’s Time To Go

Midnights

On 4/14 Taylor changed the rule: ALL SONGS ON MIDNIGHTS MAY BE REPEATED. I’m adding the dates to the midnights surprise songs but they will remain in black text since they can be repeated.

Lavender Haze • Maroon (5/26) • Anti-Hero • Snow on the Beach (3/24) • You’re on Your Own, Kid (4/14) • Midnight Rain • Question…? (5/20) • Vigilante Shit • Bejeweled • Labyrinth • Karma • Sweet Nothing • Mastermind • The Great War (4/14) • Bigger Than the Whole Sky • Paris • High Infidelity (4/29) • Glitch • Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (5/7) • Dear Reader • Hits Different (6/4)

Other

I don’t wanna live forever (6/3)

#reach out if I’m missing anything #eras tour #eras tour set list #surprise song #Taylor swift #taylor nation

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luvrodite · 1 year ago

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OCTOBER 7: YOU FLOWER, YOU FEAST JASON TODD (5.1K)

kinktober prompts: virginity + praise | kinktober masterlist

synopsis. you meet a beautiful stranger and every bit of sense you've accumulated over the years flies out the window. what's the worst that could happen?

cw: f!reader, smut, gentle mdom, praise, virginity loss, virgin!reader, dry humping, cunnilingus, fingering f!receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex minors, blank and ageless blogs dni

technically a part 2 to for you i'd fall from grace (just to touch your face) but can be read as a standalone

The doors open with a quiet ding.

Now it is you on the other side watching him step out, and a beat passes. The world seems to hold its breath.

You take his hand.

It feels like your undoing and rebirth all in one.

Jason’s hotel room is…luxurious. That is the first thing you notice when he leads you in, opening the door with his free hand. He doesn’t let go of you for a moment, fishing the keycard out of his pocket smoothly as his mouth skims over yours. He presses you into the door for a moment, and then you hear two small beeps before you’re being walked backwards.

When he pulls away, he’s backlit by gold and your eyes trail over his shoulder to take in the spacious room you’ve been led into.

Rich, patterned carpet, detailed plaster carvings along the trim and a chandelier – your eyes widen when you spot the bed. Jason huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your ear as you take in the wrinkled sheets, untouched from when you’d interrupted his night to coax him out with you, a cloud of what you’re sure is a thousand thread count bedsheets. It’s fit to house a king.

There’s a mouth against your shoulder, and you look back up to your companion. Jason glitters before you, sparks from the chandelier glass winking at the corners of your vision, robing him in reds, blues and purples. Your heart flutters as he grows closer.

“Hi, pretty thing,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to yours. “You okay?”

His hands are warm against your sides, and you nod into the kiss, a hum caught in his mouth. But your lips tremble against his, and you’ve begun to shake a little in his arms. You mourn the loss when he breaks the kiss, teal eyes narrowing on you.

A hand comes up to cradle your face, a dry warmth that bleeds into you, and your eyes flutter as it tilts your head.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

But how do you tell him that you are? You’re more sure of this than anything in your life. Every cell in your body, every nerve and vein and beat of your heart all thrum with the same thought, the same desire – this, him. You want him so badly, there’s an ache between your legs and when you shift your weight you can feel the dampness of your underwear, sticky with need.

How do you tell him?

That even in your desire, even in your certainty that you won’t be leaving this room unchanged, there is fear.

You think of girlhood, of closed bedroom windows and lonely nights, of eyeing valentines enviously. You think of bare knees and secret touches beneath bed covers, substituting your fingers for another’s, faceless hands skimming your innermost parts–

You blink at Jason. Jason, who is solid, and real. Who has already unknowingly stolen a first, on his way to take another. Teal smudges in your vision, and you press closer, seeking comfort from the bigger man.

“No one has ever..” you try to say, but your voice wavers, and heat crawls up your neck to settle in your face. A thumb skims across the nape of your neck, and you shiver.

“Will you look at me?”

You linger in the safety of his embrace for a moment longer, before you do as he says, tipping your head to gaze at him. He smiles, pleased, and the sight of it sends a rush of blood to your head.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, rewarding you with a squeeze to your side. “You were saying something. Tell me.”

You blink. Surely he wasn’t going to make you say it? Hadn’t he heard enough? You’d only known him so long, but Jason seemed intelligent enough to connect the dots. But he only stares patiently at you, waiting.

“I..” you lick your lips, throat suddenly dry. “I’ve never done this before.”

The look in his eyes confirms your suspicions – he had only wanted to hear you say it. It’s no less gentle, but his touch tightens around you a little, and you swallow as his pupils, already blown wide, seem to darken even more.

“Done what, baby?” he rasps out, lowering his head to nose at the column of your throat. “Let a stranger take you back to his room?”

You squirm in his arms, hands coming up to clutch the fabric of his shirt, fistfuls of cotton wrinkling under your touch.

“Mmh..no..I mean..yes..but–”

“But what?” he mumbles into your jaw.

“I’ve never – with anyone,” you stutter out, squeezing his shoulders, tucking your face into his collar.

He withdraws then, eyes glossy. “No one?” he asks, voice steady save for the hitch in his breath when you shake your head.

“Is–is that okay?” you ask and his eyes slip shut for a second, forehead falling forward to press against yours. The both of you stand in the living area of his obscenely large hotel room, but all you see is aqua eyes, curtained by thick lashes, staring into yours.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out a laugh, thumb sliding a path back up to your cheek. “Is that okay with you? I don’t expect anything, we can hang out a little longer, or I can walk you back down to your room–”

“No!” you protest, and his eyes widen. You scrunch your eyes closed, lowering your voice. “No, I…I do want to – y’know.”

He laughs, and you feel the press of his mouth against your cheek, there and gone just as quickly. It’s chaste, and sweet.

“Yeah?” he asks, amused. “You want to…y’know?”

You frown at him, nerves steadily melting away as he grins at you. You’ve known him less than a week but this familiarity feels age old. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Aw,” he snickers, smoothing your pout away with a kiss. “‘M sorry. You’re just cute. I can’t help it.”

You have to squirm away when his fingers pinch your sides teasingly, laughing too loudly for the hour it currently is. He doesn’t seem to care that you might be disturbing the other guests – but you suppose for what he must’ve paid for this room, any sound is unlikely to bleed through the walls. “Stop! Stop!”

He grins at you, ceasing his attack. Eyes softening, he tilts his head, gesturing to the living space you’d overlooked. A chaise longue and expensive looking sofa are arranged neatly, flowers blooming in a vase on the coffee table. You spy a book resting beside it, neatly bookmarked with a slip of paper you recognise to be hotel stationery, the filigree border sticking out from between the pages giving it away.

“C’mere, sweetheart. I wanna kiss you a bit more.”

You kick your heels off, the sparkly shoes you’d spent more money on than you ought to have landing sideways beside his. Your feet sink into the plush carpet below as you pad over to the couch, falling into Jason’s lap with a delighted giggle when he pulls you close. Knees bracketing his hips, your skirt slides up dangerously, but you’re more focused on the slide of his mouth against yours.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Jason breathes into your mouth, and your eyes droop, smiling against him. Big hands settle against the small of your back, and Jason swallows the surprised noise you make when you feel him under you, thick, and hard. “Got me so fuckin’ hard for you, sweetheart. Can you feel that?”

You rock your hips shyly, squirming on his lap, letting out a breath when you feel him bump against your covered clit, pleasure pooling low in your gut.

“Mmh..there you go,” Jason whispers, guiding you along his lap. You whine into his mouth, eyes shutting at the slide of his tongue against yours. It’s slow, and a little messy, the way he kisses you, spit slicked lips sliding against yours, hands rocking you back and forth.

You have no idea what the time is, your phone lying abandoned in the depths of your purse, forgotten in the entryway next to your shoes. Orange light burns through the back of your eyelids, and fatigue renders your limbs heavy against Jason – it’s been a long day and an even longer night, but you aren’t quite ready to give it up yet, too drunk on this new experience to call an end to it.

An open window nearby lets in a stream of air, cool against your flushed skin and some way down the road, a car beeps on the motorway. Jason, beneath you, rolls his hips up into your aching centre and you mewl. He laughs as you break away, panting, lips shiny with spit. You go dizzy at the sight.

“So fuckin’ noisy,” he laughs, leaning back against the couch. He looks sinful, head tipped back to expose his throat, thick thighs spread and hands on your hips. Like he’s at your mercy. Power ripples beneath your fingertips as you touch his neck, skimming over his Adam's apple. Almost as if in a trance, you lower your head to bite at the skin, tongue laving at the mark and relishing in the groan he lets out.

“You sure-” he gasps when you do it once more. “Y’sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sucking a mark below his ear. You pull away, breath hitching at the sight of the bruise blooming there. His eyes are already on you when you meet his gaze, half-lidded and hungry.

“‘M so fucking lucky, aren’t I?” he rasps, resting a hand on the back of your neck and bringing you down to him. “Nobody else gets you like this, do they.”

You shake your head in affirmation and he grins, a little pleased. And then, his gaze is drifting down to the neck of your dress.

It’s a pretty thing, the both of you know it, daringly lowcut – more than you would have ever braved to wear back home. But here, you are something else entirely, a flower in bloom. There is no one to tell you no, to heed caution. No nosy eyes – the only gazes on you now are heavy with something else. You see the same heaviness in Jason’s eyes as he drinks in the red swathing your figure.

You’d seen it in the store and known – this was it. This would be the one. Every stitch and fold of it had been made in your image, you’d known it from the moment you laid your eyes on it, only confirmed by the reflection in the dressing room mirror.

“Baby,” Jason says suddenly, voice sounding shot, eyes turning pleading and hands trailing back down to fist at your dress. “Can I take this off?”

You find yourself nodding fervently, so eager that any pretense of playing coy slips right out of your head as you lean up and forward, closing your eyes as his fingers pull the zip at your side and pull the material up your figure. It’s unbearably slow, and the drag of the fabric up your skin leaves goosebumps in its trail, your heart hammering in your chest as inch by inch, you are bared to his eyes. When the skirt gathers at your waist, only just covering your panties, Jason groans, eyes tracing your thighs hungrily. He pauses a moment, and you tremble atop him. It’s only a moment – he resumes his path.

Everything is still, and quiet around the both of you. Only your shared breathing, heavy – and, you imagine, wrapping around the other, invisible. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, and you curl your fingers into fists where they rest on your thighs.

“Up, baby,” Jason murmurs, and you raise your arms, shuddering as the dress is lifted totally. It hits the ground behind you with a quiet flutter, and you’re left atop Jason’s lap in only the pretty panties you’d slipped on before dinner.

Before dinner, when you’d flounced around your hotel room, running back and forth across the wardrobe and your suitcase and your vanity, silk robe slipping down your shoulders, giggling with your best friend. You’d slipped on the scrap of material after your shower, shrieking when she’d voiced the thought you’d quietly entertained – who exactly are you putting those on for?

Their intended subject breathes out a sigh when his eyes land on them, a groan caught in his throat. The hardness pressed against your thigh is an attestation to just how much he likes it.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” Jason tips forward to press his forehead to your shoulder, and your breath hitches when the movement causes his nose to brush against your bare skin, lips so close to your breast you can feel his breath. “Been wanting to do that from the moment you showed up at my door.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out shyly, face warming. His resounding “Mhm.” vibrates against your shoulder.

“Y’showed up looking like sin, princess,” he mumbles, a sloppy kiss pressed to your skin. And then another, and another. He moves slowly, with precision, and you’re burning for him. “Thought about just locking the door and ripping that damn dress off you – ‘m surprised you didn’t notice how hard I got.”

Your eyes flicker down but his broad shoulders obscure your view, curling over you, leaving wet kisses over every bit of skin he can reach.

“Mmh, baby y’gotta talk to me,” Jason sighs, pulling away and you almost keen at the loss, chasing after him when he sinks back into the couch cushions, hands steadying you as you tip forward. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” you whisper, nose to nose.

Up close, he is even more beautiful, golden and freckled from the summer sun. His eyelashes are thick, fluttering with every blink. He watches you, and you are reminded of a big cat, lazy eyes fixed on its prey, slow, smouldering blinks as he stares at you.

“You want me to take care of you?” he breathes out, and you nod. He shakes his head. “Gotta hear you say it out loud, sweetheart. You can do that for me can’t you?”

His voice drops into a coo, encouraging in all the ways to make your head dizzy, every thought turning syrupy thick when he bumps his nose against yours, coaxing.

“Say it for me, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth, capturing your bottom lip between his. You feel the barest drag of his teeth and you whimper – he catches that too. “Aw, c’mon pretty. I’ve barely done anything, yet. There’ll be time for that later. Y’just gotta tell me.”

“Jason, I-” you gasp out, when he rocks his hips up into you. “Please? Please…”

“Please what?”

If they could only see you now. Shame and desire race through your veins, circling each other in a vicious stand-off. Will you give in? Will you see it through? You’ve come this far. Ruination is only a murmur away.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, and his eyes gleam.

Jason hauls you up from the couch in one swift movement that leaves you grappling for his shoulders, but his hold is firm – you’re in no danger of falling, unless he intends it. Mouth on yours, he crosses the living space and you enter the bedroom, the mammoth of a bed coming closer into view. You only register it in your periphery, much too preoccupied with the brush of Jason’s tongue against yours, yet another new, dizzying sensation that clouds your senses.

And then you’re falling back, landing amongst the sheets of his bed. Jason hovers above you – still clothed. You quirk a brow expectantly at him and he pauses. He follows your gaze, and snickers when he realises.

“I guess I’m being pretty unfair, huh,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ve got you all pretty and bare for me and I’m still dressed. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Jason is, impossibly, even more attractive under his clothes. He shucks the jacket and top, and your throat dries at the sight of him, all soft muscle and broadness. Every inch of him has been carved with a careful hand, and you drag your gaze downwards as he tugs his sweats off, left in only a pair of black boxer briefs. Powerful thighs flex as he steps out of his clothing, and you have to bite back the urge to learn forward and press your mouth to him, to sink your teeth into the muscle of his chest.

“Hope that’s a good silence,” he remarks, kicking his sweats away and you snap your eyes back up to him, a nervous laugh bubbling from your lips.

“It is,” you assure. Bravely, you reach out to take his hand, and his eyes soften a little when you do. “You’re…no one should look like that.”

Pink dusts the top of his cheeks and he laughs. “I’m glad you think so.” He shakes his head then, and draws closer. “Tonight’s about you, though, princess. Can you lay back for me?”

“Like this?” you ask, unsure, settling yourself against his pillows, legs bent together. He smiles, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

“Not quite,” he says, a warm hand coming to cup your calf. “This okay? If you wanna stop, just let me know. Pinch me, or something. Promise I’ll stop.”

You nod, and nod once more, and he drops a kiss to the inside of your knee as he maneuvers your legs so they’re spread, allowing him to draw closer. All that stands between his gaze and your most sensitive parts is a scrap of fabric, and you see his eyelids droop as he settles on his stomach, breath skimming your inner thigh.

“You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” he asks, tilting his head, expectant. His voice is gentle, coaxing, and you find yourself nodding, eager to please him. He smiles, and it’s like starlight, reddened mouth curving up to reveal pearly whites.

“Yeah,” he sighs, pleased. Fingers trail up your legs, pushing them further apart with a firmness that is equally as gentle. “Knew you would. My girl knows how to listen t’me. So sweet for me. ‘M gonna kiss you now, ‘kay, sweetheart?”

You’re tipping your chin and then your panties are being hooked to the side and there’s a mouth on you, warm, and wet, tongue curling against your clit in a movement that draws a gasp right out of you, squirming against the sheets, both chasing and drawing away from the unfamiliar sensation. Jason laughs at the sound, only pressing closer to you with an arm hooking across your hips to keep you still.

Your vision swims, and you press your head back into the pillows, the canopy above you blurring under every artful lash and lick of Jason’s tongue. Your hands fist the sheets when he closes his lips around your clit, sucking gently – desire burns in your gut and explodes behind your eyes with his movements, your hips lurching off the mattress only to meet the steel resistance of his arm.

“Jason,” you cry, only growing warmer when he snakes his free hand up your torso to pinch your nipple, squeezing your breasts as he works his mouth.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just-” he cuts himself off, spitting onto your folds – only adding to the mess you’re sure you’ve made. You shudder and he laughs against your skin. “Mmh, just like that, just like that…”

Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers sinking into thick black locks and tugging before you can register the impulse. You draw away, a babbled apology on your tongue but he only catches your wrist as it raises and pushes it back with a husky laugh.

“Touch me all you want,” he says, kissing your thigh. “Want you to feel good, angel.”

“It does,” you pant, too caught up to find any embarrassment in the needy pitch of your voice, too eager to get his mouth back on you. He grins, knowingly, and raises his hand, reaching to press his fingers against your lips.

“Get my fingers wet f’me, baby,” he says.

It feels debauched, the way you let him part your lips and sink his fingers in your mouth, pressing heavy on your tongue. Drool collects, and you flick your tongue against his thick digits, sucking. His eyes shutter, and you find yourself pleased to have turned the tables, even if only momentarily. He retracts his fingers soon, and you follow the string of spit with your eyes, flinching when it snaps, smearing against your chin.

“That’s my girl,” he exhales. “‘M gonna stretch you out, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” you murmur, resting a hand across the arm on your hips. He pushes himself up onto his haunches, and then there’s a finger pressing at your entrance. It’s a foreign feeling – Jason’s fingers are much thicker than your own, and you tense up at the intrusion, but he notices.

“Take a breath for me,” he tells you firmly, other hand stroking your skin comfortingly. “It’ll be more uncomfortable if you’re tense like that. There you go, take another for me, good girl.”

He leans up to kiss you, and you clutch his shoulders tightly when his thumb circles your clit in gentle circles, finger steadily pressing into you. You breathe through it, feeling small under his frame, but grateful for the cover. Jason whispers praise into your skin as you take him slowly, and you tip your head back as slowly, your body adjusts to the stretch.

“So good for me,” he tells you, and your eyes burn, tears crowding your lashline at the rush of emotions – it’s so much, all at once. You can’t quite make sense of things anymore, entirely consumed by the feeling of him, over, around, inside.

And still, when he deems you properly prepped, you feel you’ve entered an entirely new ballpark when he slides your panties off and removes his underwear, cock springing up and slapping against his stomach.

It isn’t as though you’ve never seen one before. The internet, and sex ed classes had at least given you some idea about what to expect, but –

Jason is big. Even inexperienced, you know this. Your mouth dries the longer you stare at it, so thick you wonder how he’s going to fit it inside you – can he? Trepidation settles in your lower gut, but with it, something else. You sit up on shaky arms, and curiosity spurs you on to reach for him, tucking your legs beneath you as you shuffle closer.

He lets you touch him, teal eyes watching in silence as your hand brushes along his hip, dipping down to press against his thigh. Skirting around where you really want to touch. When he exhales above you, you look up to find him softly smiling, amusement in the curve of his mouth.

“I don’t bite,” he says softly, fingers coming to wrap around your wrist gently, guiding your touch to his cock. The both of you shudder when you make contact, wrapping around his length experimentally. The weight of him in your hands makes your heart thrum, and you don’t realise you’ve drawn closer until he’s pulling you away just as your lips hover over the head of him.

You look up questioningly, and he gives you a reassuring grin, caressing your cheek. “Later, sweetheart. I wanna make you feel good.”

“Promise?” you murmur and he nods, looping his pinky around yours.

And then you’re being pressed back down into the sheets, a mouth on yours and Jason’s tongue licking at the seam of your lips. And you know you ought to be a little more responsible, when he presses on your bare heat, precum smearing at your entrance, but there’s a rush in the thought of having him wholly – of letting go of responsibility for just one night.

You’ve been good all your life, you figure you’re allowed one moment of recklessness.

He’s prepped you well, but the first press of his head inside still makes you gasp, stomach tightening as he enters you. He swallows the sound in his mouth, humming assuringly against your lips.

“Mmh, you’re doin’ so good for me,” he mumbles, sloppily kissing your jaw, and you throw your arms around his neck, tucking your face into his shoulder. “Breathe, breathe, princess.”

Inch by inch, he pushes until you’ve taken the entire length of him, settling there for you to adjust. You can feel it in your throat, every bit of skin and heat making your blood simmer, your eyes rolling slightly at the stretch.

“You okay?”

Jason brushes a few fingers across the back of your neck, and the touch is grounding, drawing your attention back to him. You nod, and he lets out a little laugh.

“So sweet for me,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to your head. You exhale against his collar, returning it to the spot above his heart, lips smudging against his chest and leaving a streak of colour where your lipstick rubs off. You grin privately, repeating the motion. The hand at your hip squeezes affectionately, and he speaks again. “Gonna start moving now, okay?”

“Mhm.” It’s a needy sound – not the first one he’s pulled out of you tonight, and when he rolls his hips, thumb catching at your clit, you wager it won’t be the last.

You lose all ability to think within minutes. Jason is attentive, and every touch lights you on fire, leaves you feeling scraped raw, every nerve sensitive to him. Everything feels amplified as he thrusts, making ample of use of his mouth and fingers in time with his movements. You’re clutching him, clutching the sheets, legs shaking around his waist.

The hotel room is filled with the sounds of your pleasure, Jason drawing moan after moan, whimpers and desperate moans from your lips – absently, you wonder, is that you, making all that noise? It seems utterly discomposed, something too filthy for the otherwise pristine room you’re in. But Jason is uncaring and if anything, it only spurs him on, gripping you tighter.

“Fuck,” he hisses, biting at your shoulder and you whine, nails biting into the meat of his shoulder. “That’s it, princess, you sound so fucking pretty.”

Sweat gathers in the dip of your brow, lines your skin and his as his hips cant into yours. His head dips down to catch a nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing the your sensitive bud. You choke on a gasp, throwing your head back into the pillows. He grins, letting go with a wet pop.

“Jason.” you sob out and he coos.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he says, leaning down so you’re nose to nose. You gaze at him through half-lidded eyes, unable to keep them open. “‘M I making you feel good? This what you expected?”

“F-feels so good,” you cry, the tears that have been gathering finally slipping free, streaking down your face as he rocks into you. His teeth gleam in the low light, victory in the stretch of his lips – the light haloes around him and he looks divine, bronzed and eclipsing your entire body with his.

He thrusts faster, a little harder, and you clutch his arm suddenly, feeling the pleasure rising in to a crescendo in your stomach. His name falls off your lips, coloured in desperation and tears, and you buck your hips up in an effort to match his.

“You close, sweetheart?” he pants and you keen.

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, voice pitching as you draw him down into a messy kiss, a meeting of teeth and tongue that leaves you dizzy.

“Fuck, princess, that’s it,” he groans, a hand coming around your lower back to lift you closer. The other circles your clit faster, and you cry out. “That’s it, come for me. Just let go for me, I know you can do it. You’re such a good girl, been so good for me, you deserve to come, don’t you? C’mon sweetheart, just like that.”

You break with a squeal, coming apart around his cock. It’s intense, the wave that crashes over you and swims through your body, reaching every nerve ending and muscle. And he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it with steady thrusts that don’t relent. You’re pushing at his stomach, fingers desperately clawing at him. It’s dizzying, and you clench down harder, drawing a groan from him.

“Shit, baby,” he gasps, forehead dropping to yours. “Sweetest fucking pussy, ‘m so fucking close.”

You can only tilt your head up to capture his mouth, biting down on his bottom lip. He pulls away swearing, sweat lining his brow.

“Gonna come,” he chokes out, forehead creasing as his eyes squeeze shut. You squeeze down around him once again, and he moans.

“Come for me,” you breathe out, and he shakes his head, looking pained. His lips turn down into a pout, and though you’ve little energy in your body, you want nothing more than to sink your teeth into it. You fear that by doing this, he’s woken something in you now – there is no coming back from the monster he’s made of you, the insatiable hunger he’s called on.

“Don’t say that, baby,” he barely manages to grit out. “I can’t, I-”

He pulls himself out suddenly, fisting his cock over your body. You realise just how close he was when in a few quick strokes, he comes over your stomach, shooting onto your skin with a strangled noise.

“Fuck!”

Silence falls over the room, save for your heavy breaths. You sink back into the pillows, spent and Jason lowers himself beside you, reaching out to pull you close. You tuck yourself into his side, and the muffled sound of his heartbeat reaches you from beneath your cheek.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?” A hand settles on the dip of your back, thumb skimming across the expanse sweetly. “Talk t’me.”

“Good,” you slur out, eyes slipping closed. Your own pulse steadily throbs in your ears and you can feel the fatigue settling in your muscles, sapped of your strength. “So tired.”

“Yeah?” he questions, affection colouring his voice. You hum, nosing at him as though you could burrow closer.

“Rest a bit. I’ll get up in a moment, run you a bath,” he promises you, voice rough. “Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“You’ll come with?” you ask quietly, and he sighs, amused. He rubs your back.

“Yeah, princess, I’ll come with.”

With that, you close your eyes, letting the sounds of the city bleed in through the window. Jason’s heart beats steadily beneath you, fingers tracing up your bare spine, and you succumb to sleep.

everybody say thank you ro you're the best ro you wrote the best first proper smut fic ever ro. jk but this was so hard to get through i would like to thank miss lana del rey herself, my smut writing playlist and the guide to writing smut by @/mevima because they were my lifelines. and also my bestest friend in the world for reading over this for me despite not knowing a single thing about dc beyond the barest minimum she is my angel and guiding star everybody give her a round of applause.

i considered quitting kinktober so many times writing this you have no idea. tell your favourite smut authors you love them because genuinely...after kinktober i'm going back to fluff /lh. also please don't expect this length for every kinktober piece hahaha this fic is just it's own creation and would not let me write anything less than 5k. we'll be returning to our regular programming soon.

#mdni banner by benkeibear #mangacap by shoujo-dreamland #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #x reader #jasonsmirrorball #kinktober 2023 #ro's kinktober '23 #jay my heart

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quinloki · 6 months ago

Text

Birthday Request Event v2024

Alright let's start off with the primary points:

1 - You do NOT have to give to get.

2 - You do not have to get to give.

3 - Read everything, there's quite a few moving parts =D

Things You Can Do During This Event:

1 - Request a story from me (see the end of the post for the format!)

2 - You can give me a gift! (see "Gifting Quin" below!)

3 - Reblog this post to be entered into a raffle!

Details below the cut!

Raffle Prizes!

-:- 1,000 words of anything you want (within reason) - can be a one-shot, can be a demand for a specific title (make me work on that title you've been dying to read more of). Just has to be One Piece related.

-:- OC Cameo - I'll plunk your OC/self-insert into a story (that is not the Host Club AU ^^; )

-:- I'll draw something for you \o/ I'm not great, but hey, free art xD

Gifting Quin!

❤️ - Pin 5$ to my shirt - it's a local-ish birthday tradition.

❤️ - Share one of my stories and leave a comment \o/ You can do this whenever, but it really makes my day, so have at!

❤️ - Gift me a story, or some art 😳🥰

Ideas (please do NOT send me saucy stuff on anon or if you're under 18):

1 - Draw a scene from any of the stories you've liked! 2 - Draw Quill - by themself, or with you and/or your OC, or a One Piece character \o/ Quill can be a boy, girl, or whatever mix tickles your fancy. Have fun =D 3 - Draw what you see when you think of "Reader" for any given story. 4 - Re-write a scene for a story =O How would you tell me that scene? 5 - Write me a one-shot using the prompts below 😇 6 - Free form a ficlet, drabble, head canon, series of bullet points with ANY anime character and either a "Reader" or Quill =3 Spread your wings beyond One Piece (Wind Breaker, YYH, FMA, MHA, Habin hotel, etc - go wild 🥰)

Feel free to ask me ANYTHING if you're unsure of something

Birthday Bash Requests \o/

Finally, the part you've all been waiting for XD

*** Anon Requests Will be SFW only ***

-:- Give me some reader vibes as applicable (gender/height vibes) -:- Give me a blorbo (or blorbos) - One Piece only please ❤️ -:- Pick something from each of the lists below and then submit your ask! (any items not specified in the ask will be my choice 😇 cause it's my birthday celebration XD )

Pick 1 Vibe: SFW SFW dark SFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW Consensual NSFW dubcon/dark NSFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW noncon Writer's Choice (please include squicks if you pick dark or dub/non con options)

Pick 1 AU: Canon Universe Mafia AU Fantasy AU Cowboy AU Government Mandated Marriage AU Soul Mates AU Modern AU Hallmark AU Mythical Creatures AU Vampire AU Coffee Shop AU A/B/O AU Monster AU (you can say what kind of monster you prefer) BDSM AU Host Club AU Grandline Metro AU (Quicksand, A Light Touch, Heart of Gold, Thrice Prophesized are set in this AU) Writer's Choice (spin that wheel!)

Pick 1 Prompt: Angst / Bad End Aphrodisiac - sex pollen, drugged food, struck by needle, devil fruit Bath/Shower/hotspring Body writing (icing, ink, blood, etc.) Caught in the Act Contractually Obligated Creature x Human Date / First date Dungeon Erotically charged fight Experienced w/virgin Forced Proximity - box, flight, cell, bondage, get-a-long shirt Friend’s hot older sibling Fuck or die Lazy morning sex Long-Term Established Relationship Only One Bed Outside Pliant When Horny Role-play Roughed Up Size Difference (I write this a lot, but I do love it.) Soft/Comfort Sugar daddy/mama The hat rule They were… coworkers/neighbors/etc. Trapped in a Room Trying Again (exes getting back together) Unresolved sexual tension Wounded Writer's Choice

***Requests will be accepted from 6/1 - 7/10 - and posted from 6/1 - 7/31***

Gifts are accepted from 6/1 until whenever \o/ Don't feel pressured to get them in by 7/20 🥰

#birthday request event 2024 #june-july event

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cry4mina · 2 months ago

Text

Pomegranate

(Jeongyeon x fem!reader)

Word Count: 6.3k

Angst/Smallest drop of fluff

Summary: Jeongyeon was coming home from tour and you were going to propose but she comes home later than expected and throws a wrench in your plans.

TW: ANGST. Alcohol and lots of it, throwing up, sad, big sads, panic attacks, the big sads, screaming, mentions of blood (it's in once sentence), food, uh...yeah angst.

A/N: Me 3 days ago: i'm not doing birthday fics. Me right now, HAPPY EARLY JEONGYEON DAAAAAAY! Have a not so happy moment to celebrate! I decided I was going to attempt to do one for her and Momo before I moved soooo ta daaaaa (it's been so long since i've written angst, i'm rusty pls forgive me) @psylocke142 helped me find pictures and let me yap about this (also read it before I posted it to make sure it wasn't ass) <33 thank u fren!

Everyone pls stay safe and have a lovely daaaaay<3

After weeks of preparation and consulting with Jihyo virtually, you were finally ready to ask your girlfriend of 4 years to marry you. Picking up all the components, you rushed home to get ready for what was going to be one of the best days of your life.

Tonight’s the night!

The house is set up perfectly, rose petals from the front door to the living room, a bouquet of roses on the table that are blooming, candles everywhere, and you’re in a brand new fully tailored suit that fits you like a glove.

Preparing dinner was the most tedious part of this. While Jeongyeon was on tour for a few months, you took it upon yourself to take some classes to master her favorite dish so you could make it from scratch for tonight. Even taking it a step further and asking her mother for the recipe she used when Jeong was a child.

Dinner is ready in the kitchen, you check your watch to see it’s 7:13pm. Jeongyeon should be walking through the door any minute, flight having landed an hour ago- she texted you when she landed saying that she was dropping Jihyo off and heading home.

Time sludges on, 7:45pm, still no sign of her.

Then it’s suddenly 8:30pm.

Every minute feels like an hour of nothingness.

No call

No text.

Nothing.

You: I hope everything is okay…let me know when you’ll be home. [9:01pm]

You: I love you. [9:01pm]

Walking into the kitchen, you decide to pack dinner up. Putting all the food in Tupperware and stacking it in the fridge in portions for when your girlfriend got home.

Hopefully, your soon to be fiancé would hurry back to you.

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out the suede box and pop it open, revealing a classic square shaped diamond on a gold band.

Taking in the sparkle of the gem, you reminisce on your favorite memories together. All the soft, tender, silly moments you had with your loving girlfriend and wishing she was here so you could just ask her to spend forever with you.

Checking your phone to see no response from Jeongyeon, you sigh and frown. She usually updated you with what she was up to, so this was out of character for her.

Especially, under the circumstances, she usually hurried home to you.

It had been months since you’d seen her, since the tour was taking up most of her time. It was easy to be impatient. Even with FaceTime dates, phone calls, texts - it wasn’t the same as having her with you. Being able to hear her laugh outside of a speaker and feeling her warmth against you as you slept instead of falling asleep together through a screen.

Taking a seat on the couch and kicking your feet up on the table, you lull off into a peaceful sleep with happy memories of the two of you replaying in your mind's eye.

—

The latching of the door rings in your ears, you hear light footsteps through the hall and into the kitchen.

A deep sigh seeps tension into the atmosphere of your home. The tapping of nails on the counter makes your eyes slingshot open.

She’s home.

Jumping up and almost losing your balance, you grab the roses and bolt into the kitchen to see a teary-eyed Jeongyeon standing there, leaning against the counter.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” immediately putting the flowers on the counter and walking out to hold her.

Jeongyeon halts your movements with a single hand up, palm facing you to stop you in your tracks. Her eyes never leave the floor. Confusion tenses your shoulders and back, concerned at not only the gesture but her demeanor and emotional state.

“Jeongyeon…what’s going on?” the soft nervousness of your tone makes her wince at the words spoken.

“We need to talk.” she’s still unable to look at you. Eyes tracing the grout on the tile, looking for literally anything but you to focus on. Tears trailing down her cheeks, she’s trying to collect herself.

“Okay..?” hopping up onto the counter and placing your hands within themselves, you patiently wait for her to say what she needs to.

“I’m…not happy.” stumbles its way off her tongue and into the air.

The flavor is putrid and sour.

There’s an ache building in your chest, brain and heart trying to process the words you just heard her say.

“…what do you mean?” Unable to grasp what she’s just spoken.

Unhappy?

“I…don’t want to do this anymore. I feel bad being away for so long and it really hurts both of us when you say how much you miss me. I can’t expect for you to just wait around for me to come home all the time. It’s not fair to either of us.” Voice shaking as she explains herself.

Weighed down by a devastating ton of bricks that build the foundation of this relationship, you slide off the counter. Your eyes not leaving her face for the time it takes to approach her.

Watching as your stability crumbles underneath you. You can’t believe this is what she’s saying…

“Jeongyeon…baby, I’d take missing you over being with anyone else…any day. In any life. You’re my everything…” hands now on her forearms, trying to make eye contact so she can see how much care you have for her.

“I’m sorry.” whispered to you through tears.

She still can’t even look at you.

The cracks through your chest are loud enough to make the earth shatter. Lightning shoots through your veins, flashes of heat that immediately run cold inside you.

Trying to make sense of all this as fight, flight or freeze kicks in, you leave the room.

Walking into the living room, you sit on the couch you had just dozed off on. Head in your hands, sobbing into them violently, a physical reaction to your heart being ripped from your chest.

Not even noticing her stepping into the room, you continue to let out the devastating wail, trying to ease the emptiness in your chest from the abrupt pain it was now experiencing.

Her sniffling pulls you out of your hands.

Looking up to see her with matching tears flowing down her cheeks.

Standing up, you pick up the box of tissues on your shared coffee table and hand them to her. She offers a half smile before taking one, you don’t return the gesture.

“Can you tell me what I did?” Through the shivering as you try to regulate your emotions.

“What? What you did?” Jeongyeon is confused by this question, dabbing her tears from under her eyes and trying to compose herself.

“Yes, what did I do to make you want to leave?” Looking her in the eyes and waiting for the reasoning.

“I…I’m sorry, I have to go.” Grabbing her keys and bolting for the door.

Never offering a response, or even a glance back. She left you to your own devices that night in your once shared apartment.

—

3 months later and you can still hardly take care of yourself. The agony of her not being with you, completely ruining every day you’ve had.

Work was always slow and dreadful, not offering any reprieve from the weighted down linger of what was no longer in your life. Leaving you all the time in the world to ruminate and try to make sense of everything that happened.

The scene of her leaving the house that night played in your head over and over again, like a nightmare that never stopped. A broken record that continued to spin, playing the same tune until your ears bled.

Getting mail for her everyday ruined you. Seeing her name on the letters was just detrimental, a reminder around every corner - the entire house coated in the same layer of hopeless despair you found yourself in.

You didn’t even know where she was staying or what her day to day was like. Always wondering if she was feeling these aftershocks of your split.

Turing to alcohol to ease the feelings, you drank alone until you passed out every single night. Blaring music and singing at the top of your lungs while heavily intoxicated was an escape, but it was only temporary.

Isolating was something you did well, never really wanting to let the world know how you were suffering. Jeongyeon was good at pulling you out of that but…she wasn’t here anymore.

Turning down every picture in the house of the two of you together, you were no where near ready to get rid of them no matter how much they hurt to see.

They were little glimpses into the past…tiny portals into a happier time and it was devastating to think she might not share that sentiment. Most of you free time spent on the questions of whether or not she ever actually loved you and whether or not you would see her again.

—

One drunken night, your phone rang. The vibrating against the table startled you out of your dissociated drunken state that was practically slumber.

Picking it up without being bothered to read who was calling, you put your half empty bottle of whiskey down on the table and answer the phone.

“H- hiccup-hello?”

“Hey Y/n! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How are you doing?” The voice is immediately recognizable.

“I’m alive, Jihyo. If that’s what you’re wondering.” The sulking was dripped off your tone, knowing this was your ex girlfriend’s best friend brought up too many feelings for you, very aware that whatever you told Jihyo would be passed on to…her.

“I was wondering…but I wanted to check in with you.” Her tone seems saddened, worried and hesitant to ask what she really wanted to.

Knowing she was aware of the plan to propose and encouraged you to do it, helping you organize everything - including getting Jeongyeon to the house when you needed her there for the perfect surprise, you had a bond with Jihyo that was strong and she knew that you were not okay.

She couldn’t have known the internal workings of Jeongyeon’s mind, though she did tell her everything. No one expected you two to ever break up in their wildest dreams.

You were meant to together.

Or so you and everyone else thought.

“I’m alive. That’s really all I have to shhay.” Slurring your responses to her, unintentionally.

“Y/n…are you drunk?” Concern now lacing her voice even stronger than before, she knows you’re not much of a drinker so this was worrisome to her.

Hearing keys rattling on the other side of the phone, assuming that Jihyo was about to head over to your house - you shut that down, quickly. Not wanting to see her or even entertain the thought of pretending like you weren’t in the depths of your own dejection.

“I’m fine, Jihyo. Just let me shhuffer in peace.” Hanging up and putting the phone back down on the table.

It vibrates for at least 15 minutes, you choose to ignore the buzzing and take another long swig from the bottle of whiskey. Who needs a glass when you’re just going to drown in your own tears anyway?

Your world lost it’s light. There’s no reason to pretend like you gave a shit about anything, nothing was worth caring about now that she was gone. Yourself included.

A hard knock on the door startles you out of your thoughts.

Looking at the clock, it’s 1:27am.

Who the fuck is at your door?

“Go -hiccup- away!” followed by another swing from the bottle, stinging your throat as it slips down to your stomach.

“Y/n, open the door or I’m coming in!” A stern tone comes through the solid wood that is all too familiar for all the right reasons.

“You and -hiccup- what army?” Standing up and almost falling over but catching your balance on the arm of the couch.

The lock clicks open, knob turning quickly and the door flew open, smacking against the wall to reveal…

Her…

Jeongyeon.

Steppping in to see the house in shambles, she takes in the empty bottles of alcohol everywhere, garbage and empty plates and cups all over the coffee table and the mess that was you, standing next to the wreck with your bottle gripped tightly.

Sighing at the sight, she closes the door behind her and sets her stuff down on the counter in the kitchen. Jeongyeon scans the house, looking around to find any semblance of your old happy life. Seeing the picture frames turned down stops her in her tracks, flipping her favorite on up and leaving it.

“What -hiccup- are YOU doing here?” Slurring and pointing at her before plopping down on the couch, glaring at her for fixing the pictures, not wanting to remember the good times because there wasn’t a light at the end of this tunnel, as far as you’re concerned.

Trying to take a swing from your whiskey, she runs over and snatches the bottle out of your hand.

“HEY! -hiccup- That’s mine! Get your own! I don’t want to share with -hiccup- you.” Reaching for the container again, only for her to push you down by your chest back to the couch, brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and disgust.

“Sit down! I can’t believe the mess this place is…what’s gotten into you?” The anger in her voice shakes the frame of your soul, snapping you as far sober as your body would allow.

“I…don’t think you care anymore.” Tears fall unstoppably, coating your eyes and cheeks with pure grief and misery.

Jeongyeon’s face is made of stone, stoic in nature and unmoving as you cry. This causes you to break completely. Maybe she never really cared…

Laying down on the couch and rolling over to face the back of it, trying to hide your descent into the pit of despair that you were trying to pull yourself out of everyday but with her reactions, she pushed you deeper unknowingly.

You lacked the will to keep up your strength, yet you persisted in your attempts, even if they were futile. Refusing to showcase how thoroughly this had devastated you. It consumed you entirely.

The experience gnawed at your bones, turning your world upside down, leaving behind only a hollow shell of what once was—every trace of love you held for her and for yourself, devoured in its wake.

“Y/n…” the tinge of sadness in the way she said your name caught your attention but you were still stuck in the void and didn’t want to turn over to look at her.

“Y/n…come on…” sitting down at the bend of your legs, rubbing your back in a familiar act of comfort.

“Don’t do that.” Harshly spat at her through gritted teeth, scooting closer to the inside of the couch and farther away from her so she would get the hint and taker her hand off you.

“Y/n…look, I’m sorry okay…I know I shouldn’t have come…I was just worried about you. I heard you slurring and I know you don’t really like to dri-“

“You HEARD me?” Rolling over with fury leaching from your eye to see the shock on her face. She had given herself up and the realization already set in, even though you were inebriated.

“…did you make Jihyo call me to check up on me?” Glaring at her in disbelief, anger boiling in your chest as you waited for her to say something.

Jeongyeon stammers, looking for a good excuse as her eyes shift from left to right. She opens her mouth to try and but ends up just looking at the ground…unwilling to tell the truth even having been caught.

“Get out.” Standing up too quickly and almost falling to open the door for her.

“Y/n, please just let me explain.” Begging for a moment of your time so she can try to fix this.

“You have 2 minutes -hiccup- and then I never want to shhee you again.” Voice cracking as you try to stand by yourself, wobbling and stumbling over to the door, gripping the knob to steady yourself.

“Can we please talk about this when you’re sober? I think that would be better than trying to have a conversation when you’re like this…” Jeongyeon motions her hands at you, tears welling up in her eyes at the disheveled state she found you in.

Taking your hand off the door, you turn around and face her. Letting the tears fall freely from your eyes, taking off the mask you wore to try and hide the suffering. Trying to wipe the destress from your face as you formulate your sentence.

“What’s wrong, Jeongyeon?” stepping up close to her with a frigid demeanor and a spiteful scowl that contradicts the droplets of emotion that fall from your eyes as you step closer to her, inches from her face, giving the final blow.

“Having trouble facing me? Or do you just not like the way you found me?” sniffling through the ending of that sentence, you stumble off to your once shared bedroom, leaving Jeongyeon in the living room by herself.

Falling onto the bed, you rip off your shirt, bra and pants and curl up on her side of the bed. The room starts to spin as you finally laid still and the alcohol took over again. Moaning and groaning to yourself as the minutes pass.

It hits you all at once, the overwhelming sensation of being wasted, the fact that your ex was in the house and the anxiety that ran your life all clashing to create a wave of nausea that you could not escape.

You struggle to get to the bathroom, knocking stuff over on the way before finally sitting down in front of the toilet and purging your stomach.

Retching all the toxic fluid out of your body takes an hour or so. Dizzied by your drunken state, dehydration, and sorrow, you’re unable to stand so you just sit and wait for it to pass like a bad thunder storm.

A small knock at the door, startles you out of a sleep that you hasn’t realized you slipped into while waiting for the room to stop spinning against your will.

“Y/n?…Are you alright?” softly spoken from behind the door, the pit of your stomach falls and you start to cry again.

Not because she left, not because you couldn’t control it but it was the act of her checking in on you that tugged on your oxytocin, giving you another hit of Jeongyeon that you so desperately craved.

Lifting your chin up barely removing it from the porcelain, you muster all the strength you have to produce one malicious, guttural scream.

“GO AWAY!” the words rip from your throat like the sharp blade of a chainsaw, slicing haphazardly through hard wood, splintering and shattering every millisecond it touches your vocal chords and leaves a blood stain of regret and hatred behind.

Not for her.

Never for her.

For yourself.

You hate that she left, but you never blamed her. It’s not like it was unheard of, a break up before a proposal but you never understood why. Always assuming you were the problem there was no solution for.

Jeongyeon cracks the door, peaking in side and seeing you just your underwear hunched over and collapsing to the floor. Rushing over to you, stabilizing you with her hands- she forces you up on your feet.

You are dead weight at this point, leaning on her because your legs just won’t function underneath you. Pulling your arm around her, she practically drags you to the shower and makes you sit in the bathtub with your head against the wall.

Turning the water on you, it’s ice cold. Yelping at the sheer shock of the frozen water hitting you, complaints slurring out of your mouth instantly hushed when she gets into the shower with you. Sitting behind you and letting the faucet soak her with all her clothes on.

Positioning herself sitting with you between her legs, she brushes your hair off your forehead as the water crashed down on you both and shushes the spewing of your sadness and conquers your anger just by her touch.

The peace her presence brings you in this state has soothed the crashing waves of your heart that drenched every fiber of your being. The broken state of your soul was nothing more then a scratch on the surface while she was holding you and soothing you through this horrific break down of grief that was misguiding you to lash out.

Calmly rocking you back and forth with her, you finally gained some sobriety. Jeongyeon stands to turn the shower off and offers you a towel, while grabbing the matching one you didn’t bother to put away.

Taking your underwear off, now completely naked with a towel barely wrapped around you, attempting to dry off and failing miserably, dropping the towel and whining out of frustration. Picking up the towel, you give it another sloppy attempt.

Jeongyeon is just watching you, the smile in her eyes and smirk on her face feels so condescending considering everything that has happened between the two of you.

“What?” snapped at her while you wrap the towel around your body again and make your way to the bedroom to get something to wear.

“Nothing…it’s nothing.” Jeongyeon removes her shirt and pants, standing there in her shower soaked underwear and bra.

“Did you…uhm…are my clo-” softly uttered before hanging the clothes she was wearing on the shower rod for them to dry.

“Yes. They’re still here. I haven’t gotten rid of…anything.” choking on the words as the tears threaten to spill again.

This beautiful woman, standing in front of you had not only gone out of her way to make sure that you were okay and took care of you knowing that you weren’t…

The nurturing nature of her was what sparked the initial fire that set your heart aflame. The gasoline was how sweet she was, and how much she cared about everyone around her.

Her habits of focusing on everyone but herself was to her detriment- always checking in on others and not really checking in with herself…but that was what made your relationship so pure. She was worried about everyone and you were worried about her.

Given the opportunity, Jeongyeon would move the world for those she loved. Fitting herself in a box so small that she would be uncomfortable to make others feel comfortable. The details of her were never lost on you, always letting her express whatever she needed to and making sure that she knew that you would never judge her in anyway. It was so comfortable and perfect, that’s why it stung so much.

When she dropped that bomb on you those weeks ago, it was like a nuke - scorching every single atom that you ever had and what was happening right now was the fallout.

“Y/n…Can we ple-”

“Not tonight…please…no more tonight.” cutting her off again, not to hurt her but you just couldn’t handle another moment of discourse between the two of you, especially while you’re still drunk.

“Tomorrow.” stated to her, not offered to her.

The conversation you had been needing would happen tomorrow…finally. The closure, the end…whatever you want to call it, would be tomorrow.

The anxiety building in your stomach brought on a different kind of nausea. One that wouldn’t go away from just throwing up the contents of your body but only with comfort that you were too nervous to ask for.

Throwing on a big shirt that was hers and a fresh pair of underwear, you crawled into bed and got comfortable. Letting out a big sigh of relief that your sheets were finally consuming you again instead of the alcohol or complete and utter sadness.

Jeongyeon puts on some of the clothes she left behind, a shirt you got her, underwear and a pair of her sweats that she usually only wore around the house.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch…just so I can be here…if you need me…” timid, almost as if she was asking permission to sleep in the house that had her name on the mortgage.

“No.” calm and steady leaves your mouth.

Sitting up in your bed, you look her in the eyes before throwing the comforter off her side of the bed that you had been sleeping in, patting the sheets as a signal for her to come and lay with you.

Even if it was for the last time.

“Are you sure?” her voice is so gentle and lovely.

“Please, Jeongyeon…” throat clenching around the words as you pleaded for what you assumed to be one more sleep together.

Just one more.

Her eyes soften further, the familiar puppy eyed love you had always known crawls into your shared bed and gets comfortable on her side, like she always did.

Fuck, you missed this so much.

Laying on separate sides of the bed, you just take in the feeling of her warmth in the sheets next to you. The sigh she lets out was one of relaxation and ease. It was very hard to miss.

“Jeongie?” breathed so soft it was barely a whisper as you roll from your back to your side to face her. It was what you always called her when you wanted something, she knew what was coming without even asking.

“Yeah?” worry laces her words as she follows your movement and faces you.

“…I miss you.” the cracks in your voice shatter and sprawl out like lightening, cascading down your chest, through the sheets and up to her.

Not the words, not the tone, but the crack of your voice that let the misery you had experienced the three months she’s been gone…

Silence.

Jeongyeon just looks at you, eyes coated in despair as her own emotions display for what you feel like is the first time. Wondering if it’s her own distress or if it’s just pity for you.

A hand comes out of the darkness, placing itself on the small of your back and dragging you into Jeongyeon, so close you can feel her heart beat and feel her breathing - pressed up against her chest in the hug that you needed from her.

Nuzzling into her neck, you silently sob as you take in the smell of her skin and in the comfort of your bed no less. The peace it brings you brings happiness, even if it’s temporary.

Jeongyeon just holds you, rubbing your back and sniffling. Leaning down to kiss your forehead, she coos and sighs as the tension of her back decreases while holding you. Feeling her harms relax and her back unclench was worth every second of devastation that would follow, knowing you could be this for her…one last time.

“I miss you too. So much.” Whispered to you as you finally drift off to sleep in the comfort her arms, finally getting the safety that you had been missing.

—

Throbbing behind your eyes and a massive wave of nausea wakes you up from the deep sleep you were in. The most sleep you had since she left.

Groaning as you rolled over, you reach out to her side of the bed, hoping and praying that she would still be asleep next to you.

She wasn’t.

Sighing at the empty and cold sheets, you wonder if this is all a dream or if she was actually here last night.

Did she really shower with you?

Was it all just…a drunken daydream?

Slowly sitting up, you grab your head as it pounds into your skull. This hangover was the worst one you’d ever had, like a whip cracking against your brain at every movement you made, no matter how slight.

Taking a second to charge your movements and build up the courage to get up out of bed, you sigh again and give up. Rolling over to Jeongyeon’s side and shoving your face in her pillow, just to take in her smell again.

“Good morning” a familiar voice so angelic breaks your concentration on the memories you were reliving before you could fully immerse in them.

Sling-shotting up, you grab your head and let out a wince and a huff at how dizzy you got with the movement, the pounding continued as Jeongyeon giggles.

“With how drunk you were last night, I knew you would not feel great today…” lifting up a brown paper bag, shaking it at you before plopping it in front of you.

The smell of the burger nauseates you thoroughly.

Flinging a hand over your mouth, you jump off the bed and bolt to the bathroom - immediately regurgitating the toxins left inside you until there was nothing left but bile.

“Are you alright?” through the door, you get a flash back from last night and shiver at the unease of her seeing you this way.

Quietly gasping and trying to catch your breath, you spit. An attempt to rid your mouth of the acidic taste that burns from your stomach all the way to your lips.

“Yeah…” winded replies that feed her worry, unintentionally.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a minute” the sentence stole the air from your lungs, still trying to get back to some sense of the word normal and slowly catching your bearings again.

Standing up, you head to the sink, leaving with your palms on the edge of the counter, with your hair in your eyes. Turning on the faucet, you reach into the stream of cold water. Cupping your hand and splashing it on your face trying to wash your hungover sleep filled eyes and bring some self back to you.

The chill of the water wakes you up, the headache not easing but the nausea was dissipating quickly, you were very grateful for that.

By the time you got to the kitchen, the nausea was replaced by hunger. Looking to see Jeongyeon at the kitchen table, already set out the greasy burger and fries, with a tall glass of water and some medicine next to it.

Sitting down with her, you take the meds first and drink half the glass of water. Placing it back down on the table, you look over at her. Jeongyeon’s food is untouched, sitting in front of her still wrapped up on the foil to keep it warm.

“Are you alright?” reaching over to grab her hand, remembering that she is your ex before you touch her, stopping yourself from the intimate contact.

Jeongyeon watched your hand in motion, seeing you stop from touching her and she swallows harshly. You could hear it from across the table.

“Are you ready to talk now?” asked in faint whispers while she toys with her fingers.

Looking down at your own hands, the nervousness returns back to you from the night she left. Rattling every heartstring you had in a vibration that could’ve made angels cry.

“…Yeah…I think it would be best if we did…” immediately biting the inside of your cheek after the statement, drawing a small amount of blood out of the soft flesh.

“I’m sorry.” Jeongyeon is looking up at you, her eyes glazed over in melancholy grief and regret.

“I’m sorry I left. I was scared that you were going to leave me first. I thought you missing me all the time was hard on our relationship and I was worried it was too much for you. I left because I didn’t want you to leave first…I thought you were unhappy.” her voice is cracking and she’s sniffling, panic interweaved in her words as she continues on with her admission.

“That night I came back…and you asked me what you did to make me want to leave…” a deep breath in and back out, trying to self soothe but having a difficult time regulating.

Her hand reaches up to hold your face, her palm on your cheek and the warmth of her on your skin makes you instinctively lean into her, closing your eyes as your body relaxes.

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything except love me so well that I thought I didn’t deserve it…” Jeongyeon is practically having a panic attack at this point, choking on her own sadness and attempting to even out her breathing, blink her tears away, talk to you- overwhelming herself and it’s sending her into a spiral.

Without hesitation, you get up from your chair and sit on her lap. Wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into your chest while running one of your hands down her back, then back up again. Continuing this repeatedly as it’s the fastest way to quell her anxiety.

“Shh Shh Shh…don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’re safe here.” cooed at her while you squeeze her just a little tighter as she choked on her overstimulation.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.” through the breath violently hitching and the tenseness of her body.

A long beat of silence.

Your heart stops.

She still loves you…?

“Jeong…” lifting her head so she can see the hangover that was glazing your eyes.

“You really hurt me when you left. I didn’t understand what was going on…I didn’t even know that was a fear you had.” Hand continuing to rub her back.

“I would’ve told you how untrue that was…” brushing a lock of hair from her face.

Her face contorts, holding in her sobs as she lets out the cold, hard truth.

“I don’t think I would’ve believed you…”

That one stung. Though you know it was never anything that you did now that she’s told you. Patting her back lightly, you hatch an idea.

The perfect way to prove it to her.

Getting up from Jeongyeon’s lap, you run into the bedroom and go to your side of the bed. Pulling open the nightstand drawer, you grab the little black box that held the ring you were going to propose to her with that night and make your way back to the kitchen.

Watching you closely as you make your way back to the table and sit down, she doesn’t really know what to expect.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling rapidly, your nerves get to you a moment. Never knowing what her reaction would be to this, you built up as much courage as you could and places the box carefully in front of her.

“I think this might be all the proof you need.” swallowing hard as her shaky hand reaches for the box, popping it open and seeing the ring for the first time.

A gasp echo’s off the walls of your home, the same walls that heard your wails of misery and the same walls that watch you drink away the last three months.

“It’s perfect…”

Every emotion that Jeongyeon has ever felt is displayed on her face for you to see. The heart ache, the love, the regret, and the grief.

“I have so many regrets about that night, Y/n…I would have n-never left if I would have known-” Letting all of her pain flow.

She gathers herself, you look her in the eyes and boldly say:

“You could still say yes, you know?” eyes never leaving her face, trying to judge how that statement blew over.

Frozen in shock as boils over her as she processes what you just said.

“We would have to work on things, of course…that betrayal cut deep…but” taking another deep breath and admitting the truth.

“I’m willing to try and fix this, if you are.” the anxiety in the room was shared between the two of you.

“Really?” disbelief on her lips, the tears sitting on the water line of her eyes threatening to flood down the tracks her previous tears already laid in place for them.

“Really.” nodding your head in reassurance.

Jeongyeon places the box down in front of you, ring facing you and lifts her left hand up with her fingers splayed out, hand shaking from the intensity of the conversation you were having.

Pulling the ring out of the box, you slip it on her finger and admire how it looks on her. Kissing every knuckle she has before releasing her hand and sighing in relief.

“I’m so sorry about leaving…” toying with her ring, looking up at you through her bangs.

“We will get through it…” standing up to sit on her lap again and hug her.

Missing her was an understatement. Being in her arms again made you feel whole in a way that you couldn’t explain, a way you thought was impossible.

It was just her…it was always her.

“…and we will get through it together.” cupping her face and stroking her cheeks with your thumbs.

Leaning in, you kiss her. Soaking up all the love you missed in those three months apart, her lips heal almost every crack in your soul - rejuvenation of your heart in full effect as you lay a few more soft pecks on her lips and then her forehead.

“Together.”

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