#fic: ways from sundown | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 6 months ago

Text

99 PROBLEMS | MV1

an: this is literally a crack fic, i had the idea when i was listening to 99 problems by jay-z and i was talking to @iamred-iamyellow please enjoy

summary: max never expected to one day have a 17 year old son. he didn't know he was a father. but now he's got to try and figure out how this nerd is his son. and also teach him how to live a little.

wc: 3.3k

Max never thought he’d be a single dad to a teenage boy, but shit happens.

One minute, he was in Monaco celebrating another podium win, champagne-soaked and grinning for the cameras. The next, there was a seventeen-year-old with his eyes and an attitude to match standing on his doorstep with a duffel bag. His name was Noah—“not ‘Dad,’ just Max”—and he wasn’t here to bond. No, Noah was here because apparently the universe thought karma would be funnier this way.

Max was on the balcony of his Monaco apartment replying to a few emails, the city’s lights flickering like a postcard behind him. He could hear Noah inside, rifling through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of “real food.”

“Hey, don’t knock the caviar!” Max called over his shoulder. “It’s got protein!”

“Caviar’s not dinner!” Noah fired back, slamming the fridge door.

Max smirked, chuckling a bit. The kid had a point. The life of a Formula One champion didn’t exactly prepare him for raising a teenager. Most days, it was all jet-setting, high-end sponsorships, and a new girl on his arm by sundown. It was messy, but it was his kind of messy. Now? Now, he had to figure out how to squeeze fatherhood in between the chaos.

“You seriously live like this?” Noah asked, stepping onto the balcony, holding up one of Max’s custom helmets. His tone wasn’t admiration—it was judgement.

“Like what?” Max said, not looking up from his phone.

“You know, like...this. Cars, women, parties. I mean, isn’t it exhausting?”

Max chuckled low, pocketing his phone. “Don’t have time to be tired.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Right. So, uh...where do I fit in this circus?”

Max turned, his smirk fading just enough to let a flicker of honesty show. “Haven’t figured that out yet. But we’ll make it work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Max glanced back at the city below. “Now, go grab a drink or something. Just...not the champagne.”

And that’s how it started: the driver, his kid, and a life moving faster than either of them could control.

Max hadn’t had a conventional childhood and he could tell this kid did, well as conventional as it was to be dropped off at your dad who you’ve never met’s house a few weeks before your 18th birthday.

He thought that maybe while he was here he could teach him a few things, take him to a few races or something.

Max didn’t really know what to do.

The private gym was tucked into the corner of Max’s penthouse, all sleek machines and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. It was rarely used. Most of Max’s training happened at the Headquarters. or with his team, but Noah had been dragging his feet around the apartment all week, so Max figured a little sweat might do them both some good.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, tossing a pair of dumbbells onto the mat. “Let’s see if you’ve got anything in the tank. Ever lifted before?”

“Sure,” Noah replied, unimpressed. He sat down on the bench press, giving the machine a once-over like he was deciding whether or not to trust it.

Max crossed his arms, watching as Noah pushed through a few hesitant reps. “Not bad. But if that’s your warm-up, we’re in trouble.”

Noah glared, setting the weights down with a clink. “Not all of us need muscles for a living.”

Max laughed. “Touché. So, what do you do for fun then?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You know, like hobbies, friends, maybe a girlfriend?”

Noah shrugged, grabbing a water bottle. “Not much. I play some video games, read, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

“Read?” Max frowned. “What, no parties? No sneaking out? You don’t go out?”

“Go out where?” Noah’s voice had that dry teenage edge to it. “I’m seventeen. I lived in America my whole life. You can’t even get into a bar without a fake ID there.”

Max froze mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve never had a drink?”

Noah gave him a look like he’d just asked if the sky was blue. “No?”

Max stared at him, dumbfounded. “God. If only you knew what I was doing at your age when my dad had his back turned.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Oh, let me guess. Clubbing in Paris. Drinking champagne with supermodels. Living the dream?”

“Belgium, but close,” Max said, leaning against the bench press. “Keg parties in the back of some guy’s trailer in Hasselt. Terrible beer, worse decisions, and my trainer yelling at me the next morning. Still, though. I can’t believe you’re seventeen and haven’t even had a sip.”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Noah muttered.

“Not a big deal?” Max barked out a laugh. “Mate, by seventeen, I’d already figured out my go-to drink order. Vodka tonic. Not classy, but it got the job done.” He leaned in, his grin borderline mischievous. “We’ve got some work to do.”

Noah held up his hands, shaking his head. “Oh no. You’re not turning this into some wild ‘how to live’ project.”

Max raised his eyebrows, mock-innocent. “Hey, I’m just saying. Gotta live a little.”

“Maybe I don’t want to end up like you,” Noah shot back.

Max laughed again, but this time it came quieter, almost thoughtful. “Trust me, buddy. Nobody ends up like me. Now, come on. Two more sets, and then I’ll show you how to make a proper protein shake. Don’t worry—I won’t spike it.”

Noah snorted, shaking his head as he got back to work. It was just another morning, another disagreement, but Max couldn’t help feeling like they were inching closer to something real. Something like family.

By the end of the week, Noah was starting to think his dad was running some kind of unofficial competition.

On Monday, it was Marie. She was Monegasque, blonde, and talked like she was auditioning for a perfume ad. “Bonjour, mon cher,” she’d purred at Noah, ruffling his hair like he was ten. Max had barely noticed her leave, too busy scrolling his phone for his next big sponsorship deal.

Tuesday brought Yasmin, a Brazilian model who walked around the apartment in Max’s oversized shirt, pretending not to notice Noah glaring at her from the couch. She’d tried to make conversation, something about school and books, but Noah had just shrugged until she gave up.

By Wednesday, it was Clara, who had an annoying laugh and kept calling Max “babe” like they’d been married for years.

Thursday was a whirlwind—two girls, both of whom Max forgot to introduce. One of them waved awkwardly at Noah as they left, heels clicking on the tile floor.

By Friday, Noah wasn’t even fazed. He sat at the kitchen counter, eating cereal while Max brewed coffee, shirtless and looking entirely too smug for a guy running on five hours of sleep.

“How?” Noah finally said, his spoon clinking against the bowl.

Max glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “How what?”

“You know.” Noah waved vaguely toward the hallway where yet another pair of heels had disappeared moments ago. “Them. How do you...?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he poured his coffee. “Not that complicated.” He took a sip, leaning against the counter like he was about to deliver some ancient wisdom. “They like fast cars and big dreams. I’ve got both.”

Noah squinted at him. “Yeah, but don’t they know what they’re getting into? Like...you’re not exactly giving ‘dad of the year’ vibes.”

Max laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “Oh, they know. Trust me, they all think they’re the one who’s gonna ‘change me.’” He set his mug down, smirking. “Spoiler alert: they’re not.”

Noah frowned, stirring his cereal. “Doesn’t it get old?”

“What?”

“The whole thing. Girls coming and going. Don’t you ever want...I don’t know, something normal?”

Max tilted his head, studying him for a second. “Normal’s overrated. Besides, why are you so interested? You got someone back in the States?”

Noah snorted. “No. Not unless you count my English teacher who used to give me extra credit just to stop talking in class.”

Max grinned, pushing off the counter. “Smart kid. Learn from me, though—don’t waste your charm on teachers. Save it for someone who can actually keep up.”

Noah rolled his eyes, standing up to put his bowl in the sink. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” Max said, raising his coffee in a mock toast, “I’m still your dad. Crazy how that works.”

Noah shook his head, walking out of the kitchen. But as he headed toward his room, he caught himself smirking. Max was a mess—there was no denying that. But, annoyingly, there was something kind of fascinating about watching him pull it off.

He had to give him some respect. Three time world champion but he lived his life like an unbothered bachelor that didn’t have a multi-million contract under his belt.

Two days later, Max was standing in front of his wardrobe, trying to decide between a black shirt and a white graphic tee. He ended up tossing the black top onto the bed, shrugging into the white tee. His phone buzzed on the nightstand—a message from the group chat reminding him that their table was already reserved at Jimmy’s.

Max grabbed his watch and headed toward the living room, adjusting it as he walked. Noah was sprawled on the couch, scrolling his phone with the kind of disinterested focus only teenagers could pull off.

“You wanna come?” Max asked casually, pulling his car keys from the counter.

Noah didn’t even look up. “I’m seventeen.”

Max leaned against the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I’m Max Verstappen.”

Noah gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, that’s not how laws work.”

Max stepped into the room, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with one hand. “Relax, kid. You’re with me. No one’s checking your ID.” He raised an eyebrow, adding, “Unless you want to stay here and eat more cereal while I’m out having the time of my life.”

Noah hesitated, sitting up slightly. “What, and hang out with you and your harem of club girls? Hard pass.”

Max grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s not just girls. My friends will be there. Good music, good drinks, a little chaos. You could use some chaos.”

Noah snorted. “I don’t think I fit your ‘chaos’ aesthetic.”

Max walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to fit. You just show up, keep your head up, and let the good times come to you. Trust me, kid—it’s not rocket science.”

Noah looked at him, torn between scepticism and curiosity. “And if I hate it?”

“Then you call it a night, and we’ll come back. No harm, no foul.” Max shrugged. “But at least you’ll know what you’re missing.”

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if anyone tries to buy me a drink, I’m out.”

“Deal.” Max grinned, slapping him on the back. “Now, go change. You’re not wearing that.” He gestured vaguely at Noah’s hoodie and sweatpants.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s not wrong; it’s tragic. Go put on something that says, ‘I’m seventeen, but I could still be cooler than you.’”

Noah rolled his eyes but got up and headed toward his room. Max leaned back against the couch, chuckling to himself. This was either going to be a disaster or the most fun he’d had in weeks.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah emerged in dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked.

Max whistled. “There you go. Almost looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t push it,” Noah muttered, grabbing his jacket.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, swinging an arm around his shoulders as they headed for the elevator. “Welcome to the good life. Try to keep up.”

Jimmy’z was everything Noah expected and nothing he was prepared for. The place was loud, packed, and drenched in neon lights that pulsed to the bass of some remix he didn’t recognise. Max walked in like he owned it, breezing past the bouncers and slapping hands with a few familiar faces on his way to their table.

The VIP section was cordoned off with velvet ropes and framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. A couple of Max’s friends were already there, leaning back with drinks in hand, laughing at some story one of them was telling.

Max clapped a hand on Lando's shoulder, said something about ordering another round, and then turned to Noah with a grin. “Alright, kid. First drink’s on me.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to drink?” Noah muttered, looking around nervously.

“You’re not supposed to get caught drinking,” Max corrected, flagging down a waitress. “Two rum and cokes. Easy on the rum for him,” he added with a wink.

Noah sat awkwardly, trying to ignore the curious glances from Max’s friends. When the drinks came, Max slid one across the table. “Here. Cheers.”

Noah picked up the glass and took a cautious sip, immediately grimacing. “This tastes like gasoline.”

Max burst out laughing, nearly spilling his own drink. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a milkshake, but you’ll get used to it.”

Noah frowned but kept sipping, each drink slightly less terrible than the last. By the time the glass was empty, he didn’t hate it—but he definitely wasn’t in a hurry for another.

“Alright,” Max said, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Time for your next lesson.”

“Lesson?”

“Yeah.” Max grinned, nodding toward the dance floor where a group of girls was laughing and swaying to the music. “How to get a girl.”

Noah blinked at him. “I’m seventeen.”

“And you’re eighteen in three weeks,” Max shot back, smirking.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “How do you even know that?”

Max sipped his drink, looking almost offended. “I pay attention. I’m not that bad of a father, you know.”

Noah snorted. “Debatable.”

“Hey, come on,” Max said, leaning forward and pointing at him with his glass. “I’ve got three weeks to turn you into someone who doesn’t spend prom night sitting in the corner playing Angry Birds. Let me work my magic.”

“I didn’t go to prom,” Noah mumbled.

“Exactly my point.” Max gestured to the dance floor. “Now, watch and learn.”

Noah shook his head, but he couldn’t help smirking. Watching Max in his element was like watching a lion stalk the savanna. Ridiculous, over-the-top, and somehow annoyingly effective.

Noah leaned back in the plush booth, his gaze flicking nervously between the drink in his hand and the dance floor. “This feels illegal,” he muttered under his breath.

Max, already halfway through his second rum and coke, let out a loud laugh that turned a few heads. “Illegal? We’re in Monaco.” He gestured broadly at the glittering club around them, as if the name alone erased all laws. “The girls here don’t care how old you are, as long as you’re pretty enough.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “And what if I’m not?”

Max leaned forward, smirking. “You’re my son, so of course you are. Trust me, kid, you’ve got the genes. Now, you just need the confidence to back it up.”

Noah rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, sure. Because confidence is something you can just magically summon.”

“Exactly,” Max said, snapping his fingers like it was that simple. “It’s all in the attitude. Look, you don’t need to be the smartest or the funniest guy in the room. You just need to act like you know something they don’t. Makes them curious. Curiosity’s half the battle.”

Noah stared at him, unimpressed. “That’s the dumbest advice I’ve ever heard.”

Max grinned, sitting back and gesturing to the waitress for another round. “And yet, here I am. Multi-millionaire. World champion. Living proof it works.”

“Yeah, but you’re—” Noah hesitated, then gestured vaguely at Max’s whole presence. “You.”

“Exactly. And you’re half me. Which means you’ve already got a head start.” Max leaned in, lowering his voice like he was letting Noah in on a secret. “Here’s the trick: don’t overthink it. If you go out there looking like you’ve got something to prove, you’ll scare ‘em off. Just...be cool.”

“Cool,” Noah repeated, deadpan. “Got it. Thanks for the groundbreaking advice.”

Max smirked, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Fine. Don’t believe me. But if I come back with two numbers before you even finish that drink, you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow.”

Noah shook his head as Max strolled off toward the dance floor, impossibly confident and infuriatingly charismatic. It was hard not to admire it, even if it made him feel like an awkward kid in comparison.

He stared down at his empty glass, debating whether to order another drink or just leave, when a girl about his age walked past and glanced his way. She gave him a small smile, and Noah froze, his heart racing.

Max’s words echoed in his head. “Just act like you know something they don’t.”

Noah took a deep breath, set his empty glass on the table, and stood up. His palms felt clammy, and every nerve in his body screamed at him to sit back down. But then he caught Max watching from the floor with an infuriating smirk before turning to whichever woman he was talking to this time.

Don’t overthink it, Noah reminded himself. Just be cool.

The girl was standing near the edge of the dance floor with a friend, laughing at something on her phone. She looked up as he approached, her eyes flicking over him in curiosity.

“Hey,” Noah said, trying to sound casual. “You looked like you needed saving from a bad joke.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And you’re the knight in shining armour?”

“Something like that,” Noah said, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Or at least I’m not the guy who made you laugh like that.”

Her smile widened, and her friend nudged her playfully before disappearing toward the bar. “Smooth,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you use that line often?”

“First time, actually,” Noah admitted, his lips twitching into a nervous grin.

The honesty seemed to win her over. They started talking—light, easy banter—and before Noah knew it, she was laughing at something he’d said about his dad being a “professional bad influence.”

From the booth, Max had a clear view of the whole thing. He nudged Lando, grinning like a proud idiot. “Lan, look!” He pointed toward the dance floor. “The son of a bitch did it!”

Lando squinted, then let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “He’s my kid. Of course he’s got it in him.”

Noah returned to the table a while later, looking flushed and slightly dishevelled. His lips were swollen, and there was a faint lipstick smudge on his cheek.

Max raised his glass in a mock toast. “Atta boy!”

Noah slid into the booth, trying to suppress a grin. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Max said, slapping him on the back. “You’re officially part of the club now.”

Lando smirked. “Better keep an eye on him, Max. He’s almost got more potential than you.”

“Potential? He’s a damn prodigy,” Max joked, laughing. “First drink, first girl, all in one night. Kid’s got a better batting average than I did at his age.”

Noah rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. As much as his dad’s teasing drove him crazy, there was something undeniably cool about seeing Max so proud.

“Alright,” Max said, clapping his hands together. “Now that you’ve got your feet wet, let’s see if you can do it again.”

Noah shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. One’s enough for tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “But just so you know—you’ve officially graduated from boring.”

For once, Noah didn’t argue.

the end.

567 notes · View notes

gyuswhore · 11 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

995 notes · View notes

consistencynevermether · 5 months ago

Note

Hellooo I absolutely love your writing and Vere series!! I was wondering if maybe you could write Vere reacting to the MC getting pretty injured?? From a Soulless or otherwise? Thank you so much!! <333

I'm so glad you like the series!! this fic got a little long, its just so much fun to write vere dialouge. Thank you for the ask!

content: vere x gn! reader, SFW, cannon typical swearing and mentions of serious injuries, 2.5k words

52. That's how many tiles you had counted on the ceiling of Kuras’s clinic so far. You had woken up about an hour ago, your shoulder bandaged, laying in one of the beds in Kuras’s clinic, with Vere standing on the other side of the room, pacing back and forth. When you woke, he barely spared you a glance and continued to pace, the clicking of his heels was the only sound in the room.

You were in trouble. Big trouble.

You tried to piece together your memories of what happened earlier that night. Your head was pounding, but the memories returned to you easily enough.

You had been working at the clinic earlier and Kuras had asked you to deliver something to Ais. You had plenty of time to deliver the package, but you got caught up talking to Ais and petting Princess. By the time you were out of Ais’s territory, it was already sundown. You weren't too worried about it though. You had killed a few soulless since getting to Eridia, and you had the dagger Mihn had gifted you strapped to your thigh. But this one was different. It was bigger, stronger, faster than any of the other soulless you had thought before. You put up a good fight. You were smart and dodged when you needed to, struck its weak points with the dagger, and gave the fight all your focus. But this soulless was simply out of your skill range, and all it needed was one chance to latch on, and you were down. The soulless had found an opening and taken a massive chunk out of you, its rotting fangs sinking into your shoulder.

Everything after that was just darkness. Until you had woken up in one of the clinic rooms about an hour ago. You don't know how you got there, but Vere was there when you woke up, and clearly not happy with you.

You wanted to fix this before it became a problem. Vere had a nasty habit of being upset with you and instead of telling you why he was upset, he would simply avoid you, and you would have to track him down. The last thing you wanted was to try and track him through Hightown with an injured shoulder, so it was best if you talked this out now, while he was pacing back and forth in your room.

“Hey,” you cautioned. “So uh, I don't suppose you know how I got here?” you asked.

Vere looked down at you, his mouth twisting into a combination of a cruel smirk and a grimace.

“Oh you mean how did you end up at the hospital? The hospital run by the most insufferable person in all of Eridia? With half of your shoulder missing? Is that what you mean? Is THAT what you're asking me right now? Or MAYBE your asking about the part where I found your stupid ass half dead and bleeding out in the filthy fucking street, and had to drag you all the way here.”

A tight, fake smile was plastered on Vere’s face as he spoke, while rage stormed in his eyes. You don't know what you said wrong, but it was most certainly wrong. You had never seen Vere so pissed at you before.

You cleared your throat, not yet ready to throw in the towel and give in to Vere's anger. You could still talk to each other like the civil adults you were.

“Well, thank you for-” you started

“THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? THANK YOU?” Vere bellowed, looking more unhinged by the second.

Welp, so much for civility.

“Well, what do you want me to say, Vere?” you snipped, annoyance bleeding into your tone. You already had a headache from the blood loss; you didn't need someone yelling at you, either.

“Oh no, you do not get to have an attitude with me.” Vere snapped back. “Can you even comprehend how lucky you are? The only reason I found you was because the Sinobium had been getting complaints in Lowtown about the soulless. If not for that, I would be in Hightown right now doing jack shit while YOU would be a corpse cooling in the grime.”

“I'll be more-”

The words caught in your throat. What you wanted to say was “I'll be more careful”.

But you had been careful. You were alert, you traveled on all the best-lit roads, and you were armed. You had taken every precaution. And you had still nearly died. You couldn't hold back the bitter feeling at how outclassed you had been, especially since if Vere saved you, that meant he had probably killed the soulless that had taken you down with barely any struggle. There was nothing you could have done to have made that fight go any better.

“What do you want from me, Vere? To just hide in my room two hours before the sun even begins to set to ensure nothing ever happens?”

“Yes?!?!?” Vere responded as if it was the most obvious answer to exist.

“Vere, I have work to do. That's obviously not feasible. And even if it was, I won't live my life in fear of the darkness.” you countered.

Vere threw his head back and gave a bark of laughter.

“You know what, you're so right.” Sarcasm dripped in Vere's voice. “What is the worst that could happen after all? It's not like there's a risk of you DYING IN THE STREETS.”

When Vere got mad, it made you more aware of the monster he was. When he yelled in rage, you could see all his fangs. When he waved his hands around in exasperation, you could hear the claws whiff against the air, as if they were sharp enough to cut through even oxygen. His ears were pressed flat against his head, and there was a snarl to his voice. This changed nothing to you, of course. You always knew what he was. He was just so good at disarming people with his charm, it was easy to forget he was built to be a killer. Even you, one of the people closest to him, were not immune to his disarming act.

You opened your mouth to counter, but the words died in your throat once again. He made a good point. It wasn't a feasible point, but you understood his rage. You were really just arguing with him to avoid the shame you felt at how absolutely outclassed you felt. You couldn't just hide away from the world, you were working on top of trying to find a way to cure yourself and free Vere. You couldn't afford to just hide away and live in fear. But with that being said, if you had been in his position tonight, you would be just as upset.

Damnit.

After a long pause, you finally spoke again.

“I'm sorry. I can’t put my life on hold because of this. But I will be more cautious when the sun sets. And I will keep training so next time I can get away. That's the best compromise I can offer you. And I am sorry Vere. I didn't mean to upset you. Or almost die.”

You tried to give the last part of that sentence a lighthearted tone, in an attempt to lift the mood.

You expected more yelling. But instead when you looked at Vere, he was just quiet. After a few more agonizing moments of silence, you half expected him to walk out right then and there. Or throw a chair at your head.

But to your shock, he simply hung his head and sat down on your bed.

You quickly scooted over to make room for him.

He let out a long sigh and unceremoniously leaned down to flop his head on your chest. After a few moments, you felt like it was safe enough you could start gently stroking his head.

You lightly petted the base of his ears and ran your fingers through his hair. For a moment, everything was calm.

And then your fingers hit something wet and sticky in Vere's hair. You looked down at your hand, and your fingers were red.

Blood.

Shit shit shit shit. Did he actually get injured when he saved you from that soulless? You hastily pushed Vere’s face off your chest and grabbed his chin, roughly tilting it to your line of sight to look for injuries.

Vere looked shocked for a second, but easily removed your hand from his chin like it was nothing.

“What exactly was that for?” he questioned, irritation noticeable in his voice.

But you couldn't answer. You could only focus on the fact that he was covered in blood. It was obvious. How the hell did you not even notice until now? The blood didn't really show on his black clothes, but red was splattered on his face and had matted half his hair, making it look wet. Vere did already naturally have a very red pallet, and it wasn't uncommon to see him covered in blood at all. But still, how were you so focused on arguing with him you hadn't even noticed that he was covered in blood?

You could feel a pit of guilt and fear well up inside you.

“You're injured, I'm getting Kuras” you firmly stated.

Kuras and Vere may not like each other, but you knew Kuras wouldn't turn away anyone. And if Vere was too proud to ask for help, you'd gladly do it yourself.

As you stood, you felt a pair of clawed hands wrap around your waist and pull you back down onto the bed.

You tried to twist around and squirm free, but it was useless. Vere wasn't hurting you, but his grip was firm enough that you wouldn't be able to force your way out.

“Vere don't be childish, y-”

You heard a sigh from behind you as Vere rested his chin on your shoulder.

“This is your blood, not mine” he mumbled.

Ah. you once again tried to squirm out of Vere's grasp, and this time he released you with another sigh.

You sat down on the bed properly and faced him. Your blood was everywhere. It splattered across his face and completely coated the right side of his chest. Drip lines of blood ran all the way to his knee on his left side and both his arms were coated in red.

You subconsciously moved to touch your shoulder, it was a little sore and stiff, but other than that fine.

Of course, you then remembered how Kuras had reattached your arm that first day in Eridia. You were on death's door then. So how badly injured had you been tonight?

You tried to remember the details of your absolute pummeling, but it was mostly a haze.

Not good, you could imagine. Judging by how much blood was on Vere, and how upset he was, you probably actually were on death's door when he brought you here.

But he had brought you here. Despite his hatred for Kuras, he had forgotten his pride to help you. Damnit, now you really felt bad for arguing with him earlier.

You shifted in the bed again, this time you rested your head on his shoulder, and he easily adjusted, laying his hands behind your shoulders and lightly drawing circles on your back with his fingers. It tickled a little.

“Vere” you mumbled into his chest. “I really am sorry.”

There was a pause before he responded. It felt like a lifetime.

“You're just so vulnerable.” He finally whispered after a few seconds of silence.

Once again embarrassment welled up inside you for being taken down so easily, but you knew Vere wasn’t trying to tease you about it.

Besides you, Ais was his closest friend. And no soulless could touch Ais. And everyone else he knew, whether they be allies or enemies, was also strong. Or at least capable. Most of them could have probably defeated the soulless that took you down. It’s not that you were weak, it’s that you were new. You didn’t know this city like they did, and you didn’t have the experience they all had killing creatures like the soulless. You were painfully aware of how much you needed to improve. But now, you were also aware of how uncomfortable this probably was for Vere.

He wasn’t used to having people around him who could just die over "nothing", so you couldn't blame him for reacting poorly. He'd never had to worry over another person's life like he had to do with you. You must have seemed so delicate to him, like a glass sculpture. You could almost understand why he wanted to keep something so fragile under lock and key.

But you weren't made of glass. You were a person. You could evolve. You would get smarter, stronger, more skilled. And you would do just that. Because you didn't want to die in the streets. And you didn't want to upset Vere again.

You leaned in closer to Vere, catching the scent of lavender on him. It was calming. Grounding. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion.

“Vere,” you mumbled. “Tomorrow, come to my room, I’ll brush your hair as a thank you.”

“I can’t. The Sinobium has me booked for the day” he replied.

“That's fine.” you yawned. “I can wait till you get off. For now, I can wash some of the blood off you.”

As you said this, you began to lazily move towards the basin and sponge at the side of the bed.

You could feel Vere hold you a little tighter as you tried to move away.

He didn't say anything, he didn't need to.

“Oh. the Sinobium wants you to go back to work right now, don't they?” you questioned.

“Mhm,” Vere responded. “I've pushed their grace limit as it is, staying for this long. But I'll stay for just a little longer. Go to sleep.”

“You won't be here when I wake up?”

“No.”

“But you will come to see me when you're finished, right?”

“You'll probably be out working.”

“So wait for me. You don't need a key to get into my room. You made that evident with how much you come in uninvited. You didn't even need to steal my key that day we met.” You insisted.

Vere chuckled lightly at the memory and continued gently tracing circles on your back.

“Vere?”

“Mhm?”

“You will come to see me right? You're not still mad?”

“I'm still mad at you,” he confirmed. “But I’ll be there.”

Satisfied with that answer, you allowed yourself to finally drift off to sleep. When you woke, it was just you alone in that room.

You weren't worried though, you knew a certain fox would darken your doorstep very soon.

#vere my beloved #vere x mc #vere x reader #vere #touchstarved fic #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved fanfiction #touchstarved game #touchstarved #vere touchstarved #touchstarved vere #touchstarved mc

234 notes · View notes

sparklystarrrr · 2 days ago

Text

Your Name

Synopsis: As much as the Knight tries to stop loving that human girl, he just can't.

Contains: Knight! Sebek Z. x Fem! Reader, Sebek is a full-fledged Knight, reader is a human, a bit slowburn-ish, confession, mentions of violence/attempted murder of reader, did this take a month to write? maybeeee...

WARNING** This is a super long fic, probably my longest ever!! Hope you enjoy it~

It was hard finding time to go down to the lake, especially with (y/n)'s duties resolving around tending to her family and providing food for the knights. Her family had lived in a petite house rather close to the palace of the Draconia family. It was common to find a soldier being provided food by the girl's parents. On days where all tasks had been completed, she made her way down to the clear glistening lake. Her lavender colored skirt was fluffed out from two or three petticoats beneath it as it flew in the spring time breeze. Flower petals clung to her flowing (h/c) locks while she pranced through tall blades of grass. Her black heeled boots daintily avoided the small flowers hidden by the greenery. If anyone were to see the young woman, they would've assumed her to be but a fairy. Even some type of unicorn beastwoman for that matter. It was too ethereal for a human.

That is what the mint green haired soldier thought as he went back to resuming his training. Young Sebek Zigvolt, the esteemed Knight of Malleus Draconia, was often found training. His designated spot would be in the midst of trees and shrubbery, near the glistening lake that sparkled with blues and greens and reflected the sun. He would swing his sword until sundown, or until General Vanrouge would call him inside for a meal with the rest of the men in the Fae army. He would be drenched in sweat from head to toe. He'd straighten his posture far more than his fatigued mind would let him. The young man pushed himself farther than any soldier had ever even thought of. He'd raised the bar so impossibly high for himself that it would become too much for himself on occasion. But being overwhelmed by the feeling of doubt in himself was to be pushed aside like any other feeling he felt besides honor. Being able to get appointed by Prince Draconia was a great honor, defending him was an honor. It was Sebek Zigvolt's duty to serve Malleus. Nothing more and nothing less.

When Sebek heard the dainty sound of rustling grass and blowing fabric in a place he thought he'd only known of, his curiosity was piqued. It wasn't like the man to let something so trivial diverge his focus from perfecting his duty for the Prince. His sword was sealed away back into its sheath on his hip and he peered through the bushes. There sat the young woman all the soldiers had spoken of. Her description was sprinkled from the men's lips every meal. They spoke of her ethereal beauty, her simple grace and her calm breeze of an aura. He watched her plop down among the flowers and grass blades. He watched how the sun shined so brightly on her softly flushed cheeks. It was so delicate. Like the petals of soft falling flowers.

Her soft giggle whilst playing with the fauna put him in a trance. He shook his head once he realized how long he'd been staring. That woman was dangerous.

"Oh? Is that a soldier?" Her (e/c) eyes squinted in his direction. His breath hitched. Quickly, his first instinct was to hide beneath the bush he'd been peering through and pull his sword out in defense. Her soft giggle floated through the air once more,"No need to be shy Mister Knight, I won't bite." The woman teased. Sebek grunted and rustled out of the greenery. "Bold of you to assume I would think such a thing, Human. I am a knight of Prince Draconia. I am ever fearless of humans, let alone young women." He sheathed his sword once more and frowned down at the women sitting among flowers and imprints in the grass that previously held small animals before they'd ran away at his sudden presence. "What is a human like you doing in the forest? You understand the wildlife around here are vicious."

She only held a soft smile on her plump lips,"I was just taking a breather. Creating meals every single day for you Knights can be tedious at times. You men eat far too much for just myself to cook. I don't believe I have met you yet, have I?" His gloved hand extended to her. Her eyes scanned the sharp green armor on his fingers and carefully took his hand, pulling her up swiftly like she weighed nothing. "I am an appointed Knight of Prince Malleus Draconia, Sebek Zigvolt." His voice was monotonous as ever, he said nothing else. It was as if that was all he would be willing to say to her. "Alright then Knight Zigvolt. I assume I should leave for the day, correct? I'll be here tomorrow though. I'd enjoy watching you train once in a while. Goodbye 'till tomorrow, Knight."

Sebek’s breath hitched. He said nothing. He watched as the young lady in lavender chiffons and silks pranced away. The bottom of her heavy petticoats ruffled around her barely visible ankles. Once her ethereal visage had left his view, he huffed a sigh. A low growl bubbled up from deep in his chest. He didn't understand what was going on; why that girl made him feel such a way no other woman would dare. He turned away from the shimmering pond and went back to the training he'd missed out on from talking to the woman. She was a distraction. Her presence would only serve to draw him away from his duty.

As Malleus Draconia's faithful Knight, he would not let anything get in his way of being able to serve the prince to perfection.

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

It had been months of the same routine from Spring all the way into Summer. (Y/n) would arrive, this day, with the same graceful smile, in a soft green off the shoulder dress. It collected tiny flowers and leaves at the hems, her revealed arms and chest soaked up the enveloping sun. Her skin glimmered. She would sit perched on a tree branch above him, not too far from the ground so she could easily jump down. She watched as the man swung his sword with exact precision. His muscles flexed through the white linen shirt he wore on occasion. His pronounced collar bones were on full display, radiating the sun's light as if to match her own beaming skin. They'd grown much closer in this time, enough for (y/n) to find out he was only half fae and that he was being taught under General Vanrouge with a human boy named Silver. She got an ear full on the human boy's sleeping tendencies daily.

They'd grown so close that the woman even found it in her humor to tease him, just a bit. She found it enjoyable to watch his boisterous reactions to her words. She'd oftentimes indulge in his pride, commenting on his strength or how he was, in her words, "truly a formidable Knight for Prince Malleus and the Draconia family. It is as well an honor to provide food for you, Knight Sebek". She'd tease him on how he would eat every last crumb of her meals while he would shout back that in order to gain strength one must eat a full meal (with a most obvious sprout of red at the tips of his ears).

He began to escort her back to her home beside the palace every time his training had finished. It was a knight's duty to protect the civilians of his kingdom after all. The woman was just a delicate human in Briar Valley and must have a strong fae knight to be there in her protection, right? It was only natural for Sebek to follow her wherever she went. 'Just in case of emergency' he would say to himself while following her around a petite produce market so she could collect the things she needed.

Though as they drew together, he began showing feelings of dissatisfaction. He became cold. The young woman didn't make much noise as to not alert Sebek, but he knew she was there. Perhaps she was the reason he swung his sword just a bit harder, hit his target a bit more precisely. It was hard for him not to show off his brute strength. I mean, anyone would want to proclaim they were the prince's guard any time of the day wouldn't they? His calloused and scared fingers wrapped firmly around the steel and wooden handle of the blade. His gelled hair tousled just faintly from the sheer strength and force in his movements.

(y/n) swung her legs off the branch. There was something attractive to her about the way he mastered his techniques to full capacity without fail. At the same time, it was greatly admirable.”Knight Zigvolt, your sword wielding ability is truly incredible. One day you ought to teach me." she smiled. Although her words were soft, they reached his fae ears just fine. A hint of pink began to blossom on his defined cheeks, but he stood quiet for the first time as opposed to shouting back in retaliation to her words. His body shook vigorously and his fingers grasped tightly around the handle of his sword. His chest rose and fell and his heavy breathing turned into ragged growls. She sat a bit worried for him, maybe she said something wrong? Whatever the matter, she couldn't get a word out before he softly interrupted.

"You woman... y-you... YOU'VE DESTORYED ME. SOILED MY HONOR. WEAKENED ME. MY DUTY HAS NEARLY WAVERED SINCE ENCOUNTERING YOU, HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!!" He growled. His hand was clutching the handle of his blade as if it was grounding him whilst he shook with anger. She sat slightly shaken, her hands gripped the tree branch she perched on and her swinging legs came to a rest. "I AM A KNIGHT TO THE FAMILY OF DRACONIA, A KNIGHT APPOINTED BY MALLEUS HIMSELF. YOU STAND HERE AND MAKE A FOOL OF ME. YOU ARE BUT A WITCH ACTING AS A HUMAN. THAT IS THE ONLY REASONABLE EXPLAINATION FOR THIS TIGHT FEELING YOU'VE STRUCK IN MY CHEST!!!" And with that, Knight Sebek Zigvolt was off and out of the forest.

He left (y/n) confused. What did he mean by 'the tight feeling in his chest'? Was this something only fae could experience? Most likely not if she felt that tightness too.

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

From the days forward leading into a crisp and windy fall, there was no sign of him. He would not appear at their original forest spot. She sat among small squirrels and birds while lamenting about his sudden absence. It was much too quiet. There was no crisp sound of his blade cutting the calm breeze, no loud shouting about how Silver fell asleep again, nothing.

The baby blue dress she wore today covered her from the shoulders to the toes. It absorbed the freshly falling rain as it poured down on her, animals pranced and flew away at the first drops. (y/n) sat all alone in the drenched earth. Her garments clung tight to her skin. For once in the young woman's life she felt lost. The tightness in her chest grew unbearable and nearly suffocating. She realized long ago her feelings for the Knight were more than just friendly. They went far beyond it. She pondered aimlessly on what his angered tirade was about, what he meant by his own tightening chest. Was it from shame? Perhaps anger or resentment? He was an odd man.

The rain fell so hard she couldn't hear the crunching grass from metal footsteps approaching from behind her. The armor was white and shining under the moon which reflected off each and every sparkling raindrop. The air misted around her in stormy clouds while caressing the damp flowers. There was a metallic sound of a dagger being sheathed from it's cover. Each heavy step increased not only in speed but in volume as it approached the somber young woman. There were heavier footsteps making their way to the forest. The woman jumped at the sound of multiple footsteps surrounding her. She turned up to see a white armored man holding a dagger above his head, aiming for her.

Before the weapon could pierce (y/n)'s skull, a strong metallic force pulled her away. Her head was nestled into the crook of the large armored man's neck as his own sword slashed the dagger out of the white armored man's hand. It was all a blurry mess to the woman; her memories were drowned out by the sudden rush of adrenaline and the need to run away. The man in dark green armor wouldn't let him out of his grip until he effectively alerted his men, also dawned on green armor, that the man they needed to capture was in their grasp. Not much was remembered from that night. (y/n) had fainted in the arms of the man holding onto her like his life depended on it.

Unknown to her, than man was none other than Sebek Zigvolt. His arms wrapped under her knees and back, lifting her amidst the rain back to the palace. His face was covered by his now damp and unkempt hair. He looked down with guilt at her unconscious face with rain drops gliding against her supple skin. 'This wasn't meant to happen at all' He thought to himself. (y/n) should never have been in the crossfire of an urgent hunt down of a war criminal. For Seven's sake, she nearly got stabbed to death had he not swooped in to shield her.

'Never again' He vowed as he entered the palace with her draped in his arms.

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

By the time morning came, (y/n) had been groggily woken up by the cheeky War General, Sir Vanrouge. He was with the human boy Silver and Prince Malleus. They all looked in distress while General Vanrouge patted their backs, as if he was a father,"She will be alright boys. It was merely shock from near death, not a stab wound." He humored. The two boys next to him groaned at the old fae's way of creating light of the situation. On the other side of the bed stood a pacing Sebek who was shaken to silence. No one had heard him, or rather not heard him like this. It was an odd new light he portrayed himself in. No one had seen Sebek Zigvolt become distressed over the well-being of a human girl before.

Her eyelashes fluttered open softly at sensing the presences in her room. "Eep!-" (y/n) squeaked at the looming boys next to her. "Ah, the girl is awake!" Vanrouge spoke heartily. Sebek's head snapped. His eyes scanned the woman who sat in the plush bed, jumping at the boys staring intently at her awakening. He marched over to her and frowned. "How could you be so foolish as to put yourself in danger's way like that?! The forest is dangerous! You could've been murdered had I not arrived when I did! Humans are so feeble..." He groaned.

"If you detest me you can say that Knight Zigvolt. Your outburst that day is an indication of these new deeply rooted feelings of yours if i'm correct." Her voice became soft, nearly a whisper. It was quiet once again "I see it is our time to leave..." Malleus spoke in a whisper while dragging Silver out with General Vanrouge in tow. Sebek grew confused, stumbling on his words."I- You... What? My lady I assure you that was never the case..." It was her turn to be confused."You weren't? But you screamed at me about how I was "soiling your honor" and "weakened you" If I'm not wrong? What is this change of heart dear Knight?"

He froze at his words being used against him. Sebek knew he’d have to tell the truth sooner or later. After all, everytime he was in her presence it felt like he was stiff as a board. His hands would start to sweat and his face would feel warm. It was unbearable even for a Knight of such prestige. “I spoke on a whim… It is unseemly of myself to make such bold statements. My dearest apologies.” Next thing (y/n) knew he was on his knee with a hand over his heart and his head facing the ground.

She pressed her lips together, ”Stand up Sebek. You did nothing wrong… just why?” He looked up through his short lashes, clearly in shame about something. “It is not something I have the ability to say without shame.” The girl nearly pounced on him at his wavered words. “Sebek just tell me,” Her chest rose and fell while she calmed herself, ”Please..”

He was visibly sweating. The way she had a sort of begging tone in her voice made his heart skip a beat. Under the pressure of her pleading (e/c) eyes he crumbled. “There is an unfamiliar pacing beat in my heart… much louder and quicker around you,” He murmured, ”I’m sure you can infer what I’m trying to telling you.”

Her lips parted, eyes wide. He looked away in shame. “You really do feel that way?” She spoke breathlessly. The knight nodded quietly. She sighed. A smile slid up to her glossy pink lips.”What if I said I feel the same? Would shame still stand?” The young man visibly jumped. His head shot up”What?” A red twinge formed on his pale cheeks. The poor boy started questioning if this moment was even real.

“Then… will you join me in the honor of this relationship Lady…” Sebek suddenly froze… He didn’t know the name of his dear human…

“Knight Sebek, you don’t know my name, do you?” She pressed. He stammered. His hands became clammy,”No… I’m afraid I do not.” There was a tone of shame in his gruff voice. The gentle woman smiled,”Wouldn’t it perhaps be chivalrous to ask?” (y/n) giggled softly. The knight’s cheeks bloomed a red apple color neither of them knew was possible. His eyes burned the sight of her cherry colored lips forming a smile into his head. “Then what is your name, my lady?”

She took his hand in hers,”(y/n) (l/n), sir. Would you like to ask me when I’ll become your wife next?” (Y/n) teased. His face lit up a bright red "L-LADY (Y/N)!!! HOW UN LADY-LIKE!!" He stammered. She giggled at his loud reactions that she loved so much. "Oh please, I kid." She spoke softly. His hand landed just above his heart and he sighed. "I never disagreed..." He spoke just under his breath. "Hm? What was that?" "Nothing my lady! I must be off to training now, General Vanrouge waits for no one. Good day!" He said stiffly with a salute as if General Vanrouge really did just call upon him. He marched off in his normal knightly manner while (y/n) grinned gently. 'He knows my name...' she thought with a mushy, love sick expression, 'I did not kid about awaiting his marriage proposal... it seems he was not against it either.. How joyous!'

Idk why I always end up writing so much for Sebby boy he's one of the characters I love writing abt

Not only that but I adore the Knight and Princess/maiden dynamic... I'm literally his princess no one can take that from me he's MY KNIGHT MINE MINE MINE

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic #sebek #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader

146 notes · View notes

shigarakislaughter · 1 month ago

Text

The Black Sun Swallows Whole

shigaraki x reader

Consumed by grief after the death of your parents, you throw yourself into researching their killers, an organization called The Abyssal Factory lead by All For One, who claim to be for the betterment of society. When you're given the opportunity to fight back against their corruption, you jump at the chance. However, as you get more entangled with your fight against unchecked power, you find that everything is not as it seemed, especially when it comes to the heir to the company, Tomura Shigaraki.

tags: canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, found family, scifi au, alternative universe, science fiction and fantasy, slow burn, plot heavy, no quirks, reader has backstory, shigaraki being an ass

warnings: nonconsentual choking

wc: 6.8k

a/n: this fic has been my baby over the past few months, I really hope ya'll like it!! I changed a few details about canon to make things make sense for a quirkless AU, I hope it makes sense!

An absolutely huge thank you to @scary-grace for the beta read, and for listening to my ideas for this fic!!

Chapter 1

The bar was dim when you first stepped inside, lit only by the lukewarm glow of the orange lights that hung over every booth and the neon signs that crept over the surface of the round bartending station at the center of the room. You shuffled from side to side uncomfortably as a persistent stick gripped your shoes and a smell of cheap booze permeated the air, making your nostrils flare. Groups of intermingling species sat engrossed in their own conversations, yelling at each other over the sound of the music that blared over the speakers. You recognized the song—some musician from the planet Vendere, the tune slow and melodic. It was something you'd want to slow dance to in other circumstances.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you scanned the room. The bar's environment was completely out of your wheelhouse. You were used to spending your time alone. With this level of noise and a huge crowd, it was inevitable for you to feel out of place. It didn't help that you already didn't drink much to begin with, and you certainly didn't have any friends to go out with. At least today you didn't have to socialize outside of the realm of business.

Checking your commlink, you waited for a notification to pop up on the screen. Nothing. It seemed your contacts weren't here yet. In hindsight, meeting up with strangers off of obscure internet forums was probably not the smartest idea, especially considering the nature of what you were planning. There was a non-zero chance you'd get arrested tonight. Regardless, you felt prepared to protect yourself in case anything went wrong. Your blaster felt heavy against your belt, and the three knives you kept strapped to you at all times were easy enough to handle, after all.

After ordering the cheapest thing you could think of, sliding what was probably too-many credits to the bartender, you settled into a booth at the back of the bar, facing the doorway. With a shaking breath, you mentally rehearsed your story, recounting what you were going to say. What drove you. Made you tick.

You could picture Vita, one of the thousands of inhabited planets in the Musutafu galaxy and your home planet, as it was when you grew up. Tall grasses that you loved to weave into little baskets. The water that reflected the sky, vibrant and shining, rippling and distorting from the small animals that disturbed it. Insects and birds that screeched a harmonious, chaotic song late into the night.

Your love for the water enforced your love for Vita. Some of your fondest childhood memories were days spent in the marshlands surrounding your house. Days when you would splash in puddles until the mud caked your boots and flecked your face. You would come home upon sundown, your mother scolding you as she wiped your face and arms with a wet cloth before sending you on your way to the bath.

Vita was dry now. As a child, you knew water was important, but not to what extent. To a young child, water was just what you drank. It was what you played in. Bathed in. You never expected it to become the economic resource it came to be regarded as.

You were ten when your world started to end. When Vita dried.

Drying was what the Intergalactic Empire insisted happened to your planet. A strange occurrence due to the citizens' over-consumption of water. But you knew the reality of its death. What was touted as a scientific breakthrough, capable of changing and revolutionizing the infrastructure of space travel, actually became your planet's downfall. Water was discovered to hold properties to allow for clean engines that didn't require expensive wiring or electrical systems. It was supposed to be better for the planet— for the galaxy. Until someone naturally got greedy.

This greed is what killed your planet.

With so much water ripe for the taking, it was only natural that someone would try to take advantage of the abundance of natural resources.

Your parents, as politicians, advocated for the protection of your planet's natural resources and sustainability efforts. They had taught you to recognize right from wrong and to stand up for what you believe in, despite what others may think.

This same philosophy is what had gotten them killed.

The night they were killed left a stain on your soul that no amount of scrubbing could remove. You were playing in the marsh again, watching the tadpoles swim around your boots and hands in the water. Their screams from the house startled you, the sound echoing across the still waters and sent any animal careening. Your little ten-year-old brain didn't know if you should run or hide with the tadpoles. Your rain boots seemed to sink further into the mud as you stood, blood rushing in your ears as you began to run towards your house, each step loudly splashing as the water speckled you from the waist down. The slight breeze seemed like a vigorous wind as you paused, approaching the house. Parked on the dry patch of land where your parent's ship usually parked was a strange starship, black and aerodynamic, you had never seen before.

Your parents would have told you if they were having guests. Why didn't they tell you?

The sound of two male voices echoed off the water, booming against the quiet sound of insects buzzing in the marsh.

"Wasn't there a brat we were supposed to get too?" An icy chill ran down your spine. Did they mean you? Your shorts became soaked as you scrambled to crouch down, hiding behind the large patches of tall grass. The sides of the grass poked into you painfully as you stilled, willing your body not to move a muscle. You held your breath and hoped your rabbit-quick heartbeat wasn't loud enough to startle the wolves.

They were too far away for you to pick out any discernible features. "There was," he said, bored. "But what does it matter, we can always come back."

The other man began to protest, "But the boss said—"

"I don't care what Shigaraki said, it's one kid. We aren't getting paid enough to care." Recognition sparked in your head. You heard your parents discussing Shigaraki at the dinner table. As the CEO of The Abyssal Factory, a company focused on "clean, water-dependent engines for space travel," he was their biggest opponent when it came to the protection of Vita's water.

Their voices drifted further away. Still crouched, you stood on your toes to peer over the grass. They now stood by their starships. You prayed they were leaving.

"I guess," the taller one muttered, so quiet you could barely make out the words, before climbing into the ship. "We'll come back if he finds out."

Still crouched, knees aching, you started at the ship as it quickly shrank to a dot in the sky, disappearing as it took off. Red-hot tears wet your waterline as your boot, stuck in the mud, pulled off your foot. Panic gripped you.

Damn it. You flinched. You weren't supposed to say damn it. Your socked foot was sopping wet and cold as you raced towards the house, fumbling and crawling up the stairs, leaving thick splats of mud that exploded into stars on each step.

You stood in eerie silence as the back door was left open, white curtains swaying in the wind, the bottom edges tinged with red droplets. Hot tears rose to wet your waterline. The air smelled metallic as you slowly trudged through the house, the water dripping off your clothes and onto the floor, leaving a brown trail of droplets behind you.

The memory of your dead parents stayed etched into your brain in the same way their blood was now etched into every nook and cranny of your living room floor. To this day, you wished you could forget it. The awkward angles your parents laid at. The way their blood pooled, mirroring the same puddles you used to love.

Everything was blurry from that point. You remember crawling towards the commlink to call your aunt, screaming and begging for help until your throat went hoarse. For someone to bring your mom and dad back. For someone to towel you off the way your mom used to. The flashing lights and questions from the Interspace police were locked away in the recesses of your mind, never to be seen again.

A ping on your commlink snapped you out of your thoughts. Wrestling to pull it out of your jacket, you glanced at the notification.

"We're here." Your contact. Finally.

You spotted them by the door— two men casually dressed, covertly glancing around the room for you. You raised your arm in a wave, "here."

You got a better look at them as they approached, sliding across from you in the booth. "I'm guessing you're the one I've been speaking to?" The scruffy one with long, black hair asked, neutral in tone. "Yeah," pulling out your wallet, you tossed your ID on the table. That was the condition you had both agreed upon to ensure you both were who you said you were. Real IDs. No funny business.

The other man, blonde, quickly snatched up your ID, scrutinizing it through his yellow, triangular glasses, mustache twitching. He must have liked it, because he thrust it back at you along with his own. "This better not be a fake."

"It's not." Taking both, you took a minute to look at his. Hizashi Yamada. The ID was old, but he matched the photo, and there weren't any obvious imperfections that would indicate its illegitimacy.

The air in your little booth was as tense and quiet as you switched IDs with the other man, the single hanging light from above elongating your faces. Shota Aizawa. Just like Yamada's, there weren't any issues you could observe from the naked eye. The both of you nodded, satisfied. Your knee bounced from beneath the table. Finally, something was happening.

Your desire to avenge your parents had consumed you, eventually driving you to encrypted online forums to discuss your target: Shigaraki, first name unknown, simply nicknamed All For One on the online forums. You had seen their large, obnoxiously branded ships drain entire planets of everything they had, leaving its citizens with no choice but to seek asylum elsewhere or join them for a "gainful employment opportunity." It was corrupt, unjust, and completely unchecked.

Of course, other people noticed. Others called for the Interspace government take action against them. But The Abyssal Factory's lobbying efforts proved fruitful, causing the forums to turn to turn to other methods of control. They held whispers of assassination, calls for retaliation. You wanted to be part of that. This lead you to where you were today.

The plan was simple; Exchange backstories, see if you trusted each other, and then exchange resources if you did. You had information they needed, they had the manpower you so desperately craved.

Luckily, the bar was loud enough to mask your conversation. "So. How'd All For One fuck your planet?"

If looks could kill, then you'd hate to be on the receiving end of Yamada's. "We're from Focis." Those three words made your stomach drop. Focis was one of the first planets completely drained by The Abyssal Factory. You heard stories of what had happened. Fires that engulfed whole cities, buildings leveled, victims forever trapped among the rubble. It was said that the screams of its citizens could still be heard in the wind.

There were very few survivors, most people unable to escape to the starships in time. Those who managed to escape lived with both the mental and physical scars, a constant smoke in their lungs that wouldn't leave no matter how much clean air they breathed.

It was regarded as one of the largest instances of mass death caused by The Abyssal Factory, earning Shigaraki the title of All For One. All the world's resources, all this death caused by one rich bastard seeking a profit. It infuriated you. You were further enraged by the fact that All For One completely got away with it too, only facing a mild slap on the wrist by the Intergalactic Empire, probably due to his "generous donations." The corruption seemed to never cease.

"Look, how do I know you're telling the truth?" You scrutinized their expressions, looking for a twitch or strange movement. Anything to indicate they were lying. "I need some proof that you're not feeding me bullshit."

Aizawa pulled his hair behind his ear, revealing the dark eye patch covering his right eye. "This is from when my apartment crumbled on top of me. And this," he leaned down, lifting his right pant leg, his newly-uncovered prosthetic shining against the neon lights of the bar. "is from when I was crawling out of the rubble."

"Okay," you nodded, turning towards Yamada. Unceremoniously, he unbuttoned his shirt. A large, blotchy red burn scar etched over the expanses of his chest, disappearing under the sleeves and traveling around his back. His deft fingers began rebuttoning his shirt. "Our friends died in that fire," he sneered, tone soured by grief. "I need to kill those bastards that did it." His eyes were intense when he looked up at you. "What about you?"

You retold your story in the way you had always recited it. The screams. The men who took everything from you. The bloodstains embedded so deep in the walls and rug that no cleaner could remove it. The place you vowed you'd never return to.

Aizawa looked solemn. "So we all lost—"

He was quickly interrupted by the sound of an argument up front. Security was currently arguing with a cop from the intergalactic police force.

"You need a warrant—"

The cop, hulking with muscles that bulged under his uniform, towered over the security guard. "I'm only going to say this once. Here's my warrant," he gestured to his blaster, large and proud on his hip. "Now you're gonna let me in, and you won't have any issues." You eyed the security guard in disgust as he deflated. Some security he was.

"Alright, listen up!" The cop yelled as the music stopped, leaving nothing but the sound of awkward shuffling. "ID check, everyone stay where you are." Anxiety churned in your stomach as some people around you groaned in verbal protest. ID checks were routine at this point to check for anyone wanted for crimes against the Empire, and by extension, the companies that funded them.

You tried to stay cool, quickly switching out your real ID for your fake one under the table, a bored expression on your face as the cop came to your table, his one mechanical eye scanning your ID. You tried not to smile when you noticed Yamada and Aizawa's were different colors than before and touting different names. You felt a drop of sweat run down your back as he continuing examining it.

Shouldn't he be done already? It was a damn good fake.

Suddenly, the loud noise of another man screaming pulled your attention to the front of the bar, where a man was currently running towards the exit. Your ID was thrown down to you as the cop got ready to charge and shoot. "Stop!"

The bar was thrown into chaos as someone started firing. Adrenaline and fear coursed through you as a large— you didn't know what it was, but it was hulking with muscle in a way that didn't seem possible, beady eyes poking through its exposed brain above its massive maw —barreled through the door, sending pieces of metal shrapnel flying.

Eyes wide, your hands reached for your own blaster. "What the fuck is that."

You nearly fell over when you felt a hand clench down on your jacket, pulling you into a crouch. "We need to leave." Aizawa's hand was firm on your back, holding you in place. "Exit is that way, we'll tell you everything later."

The three of you scrambled to leave with everyone else through the back door, holding your breath until you were outside, making your way to the only two electric starships on the lot, yours and theirs.

"Ah, that was scary!" Yamada groaned, suddenly much more animated and less serious than he was inside the bar.

Crossing your arms, you tried not to shudder. "What was that?"

"They're called nomu," Aizawa gave you a strange look, putting away his commlink as yours buzzed. "We can discuss it back at our base. I just sent you the coordinates." Your ears perked up at the mention of their base. "What's at the base?"

"UA flight school," Yamada grinned. "We're teaching students to fly fighter jets."

A sense of giddiness filled your lungs. Fucking finally, something was happening. "I'll be there tomorrow morning."

Your room at your aunt's place was small, but livable. After the death of your parents, she had taken you in with open arms, so it's not like you could complain much. You took a look around your room, wondering if you'd ever set foot in there again. Binders of evidence lined the shelves, spilling out onto the walls with photos and articles you had printed on your aunt's ancient printer. She had always teased you for being so old-fashioned, so tedious with your physical media. But anything digital could be so easily deleted, and you were terrified that your life's work would go to naught.

Staring out the window, you sat on the bed, looking over the bustling city streets, slightly quieted by the late hour. You remembered when you first moved in with your aunt, who lived only a few standard hours away through warp speed on the planet Civitas, you found the city overwhelming. It was bustling, alive and pulsating with the energy of tens of millions of people around every corner. It was so different from Vita—with it's smaller, less populated cities and small towns. As a teenager, you realized the thing you initially despised was your only protection—more people meant more eyes on All For One. Still, even ten years later, it didn't feel like home.

Packing what meager personal belongings you had, your head cocked as you heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Your aunt's smiling face greeted you as she walked in, sitting herself in your desk chair. "So, what time are you leaving?"

"I dunno. Early."

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "You know—"

You already knew what she was going to say, because she'd said it many times before. "Are you going to try to talk me out of going again?"

Her tone was soft, quiet in a way that came from a deep sense of melancholy. "I don't think I could, even if I wanted to." Your arms tightened around your bag as she glanced around your room, eyes lingering on your bookshelf before looking at you again. "You have your mind made up and I'm happy for you, I just—" she wrung her hands. She looked tired these days. "I don't want you to forget about your living family in pursuit of your dead one." A wry smile fell over her face as she stood. "Pursue what you think is right, but don't let it consume you."

You stood to hug her, her arms warm around your back.

"I won't, I promise."

But something in the back of your mind screamed that those words were a lie.

When you left in the morning, eyes still blurred from your early rise, you took one last look around the room. The desk that barely fit your computer. Your bed, dressed in plain bed sheets, you outgrew a few years back. As you closed the door behind you, you wondered if you ever really fit that room anyways.

After landing in the clearing, you double-checked your commlink to make sure you were at the correct coordinates. UA was located on the planet Fuga, only a half-days away at warp-speed.

Landing your ship was a struggle, to say the least.

You were expecting some form of concrete structure, large and imposing, with a long landing strip. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite— aside from the small, grassy clearing where you landed, the surrounding area was lush with green vegetation and tall trees with vines that draped along the horizon.

Exiting the ship with your bag in tow, you hoped this wasn't a trap. Suddenly you were being called to, Aizawa's hand raised in a wave as he approached.

"Sorry, I should've been here to greet you."

"It's fine." You shifted the weight of your bag on your shoulder, heavy with the weight of the binders you brought.

"Let me show you around." The top of the compound blended in perfectly with the rolling terrain that surrounded it, except for the large, glass panels along the front. The metal frames that accentuated each pain were covered in rust, giving the impression that the place was abandoned. This impression didn't last long as you entered.

Aizawa led you up a set of stairs around the compound as you looked around in astonishment. There were all kinds of electric ships on the main factory floor, various models and designs you'd only seen on ancient, yellowed pages. It was an eclectic mix of ships in various bronze and copper tones, shapes altered to suit its pilot's flying style. Several of Aizawa's students were working on the ships, some huddled in lively conversation. "This used to be an electrical equipment manufacturing plant, he explained. "We found it abandoned and thought the trees would do a good job of hiding us from any satellites."

You thought back to the trees outside, the way they grew in close, tight-knit patches, with branches like the tendrils of a deep-sea creature, crossing and wrapping around one another and framing bits of the sky in oddly-shaped frames.

"Aren't the trees a little too thick to train fighter pilots?" The grin that stretched Aizawa's face was scary. You were thankful you weren't one of his students. "Oh, they can fly in it just fine. You'll see."

"We'll have a meeting in about two hours to discuss the information you've brought, those nomu we saw earlier, and our future plans. There's a room for you upstairs and down the hall to the right, I think some of the girls made a nameplate for you." he rolled his eyes. "They were excited."

You smiled weakly. You hoped they weren't too entangled in this. That their youth made them eligible for a normal life. "Thank you." Aizawa nodded before turning, leaving you to your own devices.

Aizawa was right. Hung on the door was a small wooden sign, your name painted in a fancy-looking script and colored plastic gems misaligned on the outer edges. The size of your room here was not dissimilar from the size your room back home. While the walls in your aunt's house were covered, these walls were distinctly bare, highlighting the rough texture of the concrete. Your bed was clean and neat as you placed your bag down, a thick blanket near the end the only pop of color. You unpacked your bag in record time with the exception of your binder, deciding it best to keep it on you for the meeting.

Exiting the room and heading towards the maintenance bay, you found yourself still with awe halfway down the stairs. From this angle you could see everything—it seemed Aizawa ran a tight ship, no pun intended. Like yours, all the starships were electric and in near perfect condition despite their age. Electric starships were rare to see, especially after The Abyssal Factory's lobbying efforts.

You hurried the rest of the way down the stairs to take a look. As you reached up to read the model number on one, a voice interrupted you, calling out your name. "You flew in on an GA-FFE37B! All Might himself designed that one, and they hardly manufacture parts for them anymore!" One of Aizawa's students, freckled with green hair that tousled in every direction, padded up to you, furiously scribbling in his notebook. You blinked when you spotted a sketch of your ship already in there. "I'm Izuku Midoriya, do you mind showing me your ship later? There are just so many things I want to see up close!" The words flew so quickly out of his mouth it was like they were traveling at warp speed.

"Sure." Who were you to stop the pursuit of knowledge. You spent the rest of the time before the meeting explaining the mechanisms to the ship and discussing All Might's designs with Midoriya.

The makeshift meeting room was barely large enough to accommodate the table, long and large enough to fit all the UA teachers, a few select students, and yourself. The air in the meeting room was much more serious than in the maintenance bay, lacking the youthful joy that the students seemed to exude. In your eagerness you got there a tad early, leaving plenty of open seats for the time being. You sat down away from anyone else, waiting for the room to fill up. Eventually more people trickled in, and a woman with long, black hair settled into the chair next to you. She barely had time to introduce herself as Nemuri before a hush fell over the room, all eyes falling to a man closely resembling a rodent from your home planet as he scampered in, sitting at the head of the table.

Introducing himself as Nezu, he started the meeting. "As you all know, Aizawa and Yamada made contact with someone who may have information on possible weapons sources for the empire, and by extension The Abyssal Factory." He gestured towards you. "I heard you have some intel?"

Clearing your throat, you stood on shaking legs and introduced yourself. "I've tracked down a weapons supplier for the empire." Pulling out your binders, you passed them to Nemuri. "Everyone can take a look. Kai Chisaki was seen meeting with All For One around four standard weeks ago at a restaurant on Vendere, but it was unknown if any business deals were discussed." Vandere, a merchant hub, was a bustling planet with a city that seemed to stretch along every surface. "He runs Shie Hassaikai, a weapons manufacturing plant."

"What possible reason do they have to meet?" Namuri asked.

"That's what I was wondering as well. I did some digging, and there are records of a transaction from a few days ago, but they're not for weapons. It wasn't until Aizawa mentioned them that I connected the dots."

You don't know how you missed it. The Shie had no ties to The Abyssal Factory on paper until a few days ago, so you didn't have time to do a full deep dive into their business dealings or their paperwork. You also didn't pay much attention to the regular news outside of where The Abyssal Factory was concerned. Intergalactic news proved to rapid to, anyway.

Nomu were the empire's new line of defense, unveiled only a few standard days ago. There was a scarce amount of information on them—no one knew what they were or how they were created.

Pointing at the next page in your binder, you gestured for the next page to be flipped. "Those are the numbers for a recent business deal between Shie Hassaikai and The Abyssal Factory. And look at what's being discussed." At the top of the spreadsheet, printed in small letters read the text: Nomu, 300 count.

"I'd say our next plan of action is to raid the Shie Hassaikai facility. Perhaps the key to understanding the nomu lies there," Sekijiro mused.

Aizawa nodded. "That's right. Weapons are our top priority at the moment, besides excess manpower."

You grinned. Everyone seemed to be in agreement. "I can get us the building's blueprints if you give me a computer and enough time. From there we can plan an attack strategy and hopefully find something out about the Nomu."

With this plan in mind, you set out to hack into Shie Hassaikai's database and find the facility blueprints. You spent the next few days hunched over your new computer, occasionally interrupted by Aizawa or one of his students who'd been sent to remind you to eat.

While it took a bit longer due to a different setup, you managed to locate the files for the blueprints, security schedules, and locations of any security alarms.

The plan was simple—a small group would fly down to a field north of the Shie Hassaikai main warehouse, located on Repono, a small, near-empty planet owned by the Shie Hassaikai to use for their manufacturing. Everyone would then split into groups A, B, and C. Groups A and B would infiltrate the building through the entrance on the north side of the building while group C stayed back, keeping a watchful eye on the outside of the compound.

A larger Group A, consisting of Aizawa, Snipe, Kirishima, Tamaki, and a few more teachers would take the linear path down to the packaging area where weapons that were being sent to the empire were stored before delivery. They would then take as many weapons as they could.

Group B, consisting of you, Midoriya, and Mirio would veer left to the security room and disable all cameras and sensors that could possibly alert anyone to your presence. You when then all quickly head back to reconvene with group A to assist with the loud out.

Groups A and B would then run back to the exit, where Group C, Yamada, Ochako, Tsuyu, and Nejire, would be waiting to assist in the load out process before steering the ships back to UA.

The sky was pitch black when you touched down in a field far enough to be away from view. The light from the stars was the only illuminator besides the bright lights that surrounded the Shie Hassaiki headquarters. There wasn't anything in the surrounding vicinity other than the compound. It stood absolutely daunting, the dark, windowless structure a harsh change from the rolling hills and slow-moving rivers that surrounded it. Silence filled the air, occasional low whistles of the wind cooling your face and tousling your hair.

Snipe lead the group down the side of the building, dirt and grass quietly crunching beneath your uniform boots. The doors were lower than the hill you were currently positioned on, giving you a perfect view of the headquarters.

Two armed, masked guards stood still outside the entrance, poised on either side of the doors. You waited as Snipe took out his long-ranged blaster, crouching as he lined up and took the shot.

One. He was quick despite the distance and wind. Two.

Both security guards slumped to the ground with a sickening thwap, one after the other.

There was no time to wait—everyone rushed down the side of the hill towards the doors with you, Midoriya, and Mirio at the front, since disabling the alarms was the of the upmost importance.

Rifling through the dead security guard's jacket, you tried not to cringe at how warm the body still was. Eventually you found it—his ID card, clipped into the inside of his uniform. You snatched it as quickly as you could, ushering everyone inside after a quick swipe.

From then you enacted the plan, splitting off into two groups, the sound of group A advancing to the weapons room fading as they advanced. Following the map of long, winding halls you practically had etched into your brain, you continued down the hallway, making it to the security room.

You unlocked the doors with a quick swipe of your stolen ID, the doors sliding back to reveal the back of a security guard's head. He spoke on his commlink in a frantic, irritated tone, too enraptured in his conversation to notice the door.

Shit. He was most certainly calling for backup. A quick tug on the trigger of your blaster and he slumped over the console. You held your breath as a rush of emotions swept through you. Regret, then shock, then guilt. Your throat felt acidic as you swallowed the bile that rose. There was no time for emotions; you had to keep moving.

After pulling away his rapidly-cooling corpse, you stared at the various buttons, differing in size and color.

You took a deep, rattling breath.

It's okay. You could do this.

Making quick work of disabling the cameras, Midoriya helped you unlock the doors to the weapons storage, the two of you working in sync as Mirio stood guard at the door. After triple checking that the cameras and sensors were disabled, you ushered Mirio and Midoriya down the hall to reconvene with group A, you on their tail.

You were halfway to group A when you felt the wind knock completely out of your lungs. The building spun as someone grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, slamming you against the wall. Metallic ichor felt hot on your tongue as the back of your head kit the hard surface, recoiling from the initial impact.

The tip of a baton, crimson and pulsating with energy, crackled over your stomach as your assailant held it against your skin, their hand wrapped tight around your throat. Your head felt clouded from the lack of oxygen and fear that coursed through your veins.

"Where is Kai Chisaki?" You got a good look at him then, his face inches away from yours as he sneered, crimson eyes glaring at you with utter contempt. His pale skin was engulfed in an all-black ensemble under a blood red cape, various straps crossing the length of his body.

Whipping your head around, you heard Midoriya cry out in anger. You couldn't quite hear the exchange due to the distance—too far away to help. He was just down the hall a second before.

You yelled for him with the hope that he'd hear you. "Midoriya, Mirio, run! Get to the others!"

One pair of footsteps audibly retreated, before stopping. "Midoriya, come on!" Your heart fell from your throat and back to your chest as you heard both boys finally retreat. However, it quickly rose again, the weight of a hand around your neck heavy as you strained to remove it.

With both hands, you tugged his wrist from around your larnyx, pulling him to the side and towards the wall. "Why would I know where he is?" With shaky hands, you reached for your blaster.

Spinning around, he looked down at what you were wearing, eyes widening when he noticed your lack of uniform. Not a security guard. Before you could place the finger on the trigger, he twisted your arm to the side, forcing your wrist to go limp.

You hissed in pain, dropping your blaster with an echoing clang.

"Who are you?" His eyes narrowed, body pressed into yours as he pinned you to the wall. Squirming, you tried to call upon any of the self-defense videos you studied. Your chest felt tight with panic as you realized you couldn't move.

"Who are you?"

The shrill sound of the alarms made you both startle.

The visage of a man, clad all in black, with dark purple burns covering most of his skin appeared in your peripheral. "Shigaraki, we need to go get the weapons before—"

"In a second, Dabi."

You interrupting unabashedly. "You're a Shigaraki?"

He seemed appalled at the question, as if there was nothing that could be gained from this clarification but goodwill. "What's your problem?"

Disgust churned in your stomach, face warm. "Your shitstain of a 'company' is my problem—do you really not know how many innocent people you've killed?"

Everyone in the room tensed, silent other than the ear-splitting screech of the alarm. The man to your left, tall and green with lizard-like features, broke the tension with a grin, a giddiness in his stance that you couldn't identify the reason for.

Shigaraki's voice came out a low whisper, a murmur laced with outrage. "What do you mean, innocent?"

His off-kilter stance allowed you to push him to the side, freeing you from his grasp. More of Shigaraki's team, a blonde alien girl and a man completely covered in spandex emerged down the other end, blocking the exit which you originally came from. There were too many of them for you to pick up your blaster and shoot. They'd surround you too quickly.

Your feet pounded against the floor as you ran in the other direction, the shrillness of the alarms ringing in your ears as you hoped you'd stumble across Mirio or Midoriya on the way to the weapons room where group A was.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you heard Mirio call out your name. Down a side hallway, Mirio and Midoriya raced towards you. Relief, then confusion filled you as you noticed what, or who, Izuku was carrying—a little girl with a red horn sticking straight through her long, white hair, covered in bandages.

"She was running down the halls," Izuku held her tight as she gripped his sleeves. Poor thing was probably terrified.

"We can bring her once we find the others." The three of you raced down the hall to the weapons room. You stopped as everyone from group A raced out of the room, meeting you halfway, several carts of weapons rolling behind them.

Snipe pointed back to the way you were coming, "We got everything we could grab. Lets turn back now."

Spinning on your heel, you sprinted towards the exit, stopping as Shigaraki's gang ran in your direction. Shigaraki stopped closest to you, his baton crackling at his side. "You aren't leaving until you give me some answers."

The sound of blaster shots boomed over the sound of the alarm. Several uniformed soldiers marched in through a side hall, blasters raised as shots rained upon you.

You turned back to Shigaraki, shoving past him. "You can't get answers if we're dead, now move."

He groaned before turning and running in the same direction. "Fine."

"Tomura, do we have to leave now?" The blonde alien girl pouted. "I wanted to stab Chisaki."

"Not now, you idiot." The one covered in burn scars, Dabi, said, turning and running as well.

The air felt fresh outside as you burst through the exit. The starships—including the branded Abyssal Factory ships that seemed to appear from thin air—were close to the exit, as Group A wheeled the carts in.

Aizawa and Snipe shot back at the impending guards as the doors closed, the rest of the team working together to quickly load the weapons.

Before you could join your team, you felt a hand tug you back, long fingers wrapped around your elbow. The harsh spotlights surrounding the building highlighted the scars on his face, jagged and harsh over his lip and right eye, with dry, flaking lines surrounding his eyes and brow. It looked painful.

You were expecting him to look… different. A typical billionaire's son would be prim. Polished. The longer you stared at him the more he looked beat down. Tired. Unkempt, with long, blue hair that blew in every direction, tangled and frizzy.

He opened his mouth to say something, when the Shie Hassaikai's ships appeared in the sky, creating beacons of bright light against the otherwise dark, starry sky. You internally cursed. Backup had arrived.

"Look out!" Shigaraki pushed you in the direction of UA's ships as he dove in the opposite direction, a laser beam from one of the Shie Hassaiki ships shooting the ground on which you stood only a second prior, sending dirt and grass flying.

You scrambled to join the others in loading up the ships, watching as Shigaraki's ship flew off into the distance, the white-hot bullets from the Shie Hassaikai's ship blasters stark against the black sky.

Your heart thumped in your chest as the cart you were unloading burst into flames, sparks and shrapnel flying into the air.

"Everyone set off, now!" Aizawa yelled from the cockpit of his ship.

Scrambling into the back of Ochako's ship, you watched the fire grow smaller and smaller in the distance. The noise of laser bullets whizzing by were muffled as the ship doors closed. The ship lurched as Ochako enabled the thrusters, bringing the ship to warp speed.

Looking over at all the ships flying in a V-formation, Aizawa as the leader, you should've felt an immense sense of pride. You had done it—the mission was a success. Still, in the back of your mind, you felt like you had more questions than you did before, and an unending sense of dread. Tomura was within your grasp and you failed to kill him.

taglist: @zephlovesspacestuf, @booksooks, @tomurafrlover23, @juni0njup1terr, @deadhands69, @mastercheetos, @kittyhyuka, @blizzardprincess, @moonstonejpg, @lysaisland @tapiocakisses @cryptidfuckerofficial

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigiraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha x reader #mha shigaraki x reader #bnha shigaraki x reader

78 notes · View notes

inthehouseoffinwe · 1 month ago

Text

Redraw of an AU I started writing and drew a panel of four years ago. Featuring Obi-Wan and co accidentally flying through a wormhole and crashing in First Age Beleriand. What could possibly go wrong?

Version without writing, original from 2021 + excerpt from the fic under cut.

Featuring my design for Maedhros and Maglor, and an Ahsoka redesign.

Art only allowed for personal use ie. phone/laptop wallpapers.

Do not repost or upload. Reblogs are always appreciated.

Except from the scene:

Maedhros was making his way to lunch when the young soldier came running through the gates, pausing by the redhead to bow before running to Maglor’s office. At the end of the hallway, he paused. Maedhros quirked an eyebrow.

“My Lord! I have an urgent message for Lord Maglor... But perhaps it would be easier if I told both of you.”

Maedhros inwardly frowned but nodded and strode to his brother’s room, the soldier jogging to keep up with his long strides.

Maglor was carrying on with the reports he’d almost fallen asleep on the night before when the sharp knock caught his ears. The door opened.

“My Lord. Commander Lintiel has found the foreigners.”

“Tell me what happened.” Maglor commanded, waving in the two elves.

The soldier proceeded to tell them of a transport that fell out the sky and the strange occupants within it. How their weapons shone with light and their skill in combat and survival.

“I would not have believed had I not seen with my own eyes. They do not seem hostile, but remain under guard. There are two Generals, a Captain and a Commander. The younger General is a former student of the other; he now teaches the Commander.”

“How long until they arrive?”

“Sundown.”

“And the orcs?”

“All dead. But their numbers have been increasing.”

Maglor shared a look with his brother.

“Thank you. Brief my Captain on the situation then get something to eat. You have done well.” Maedhros dismissed the guard, who left with a bow.

The door closed and the redhead pulled up a chair with a sigh and a wry smile.

“Since when did you get foresight Kano?”

Maglor looked at him flatly.

“Not foresight. A feeling.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Yes.”

“Alright alright.” Maedhros conceded, raising an arm in surrender.

Maglor rolled his eyes, but capped the ink pot and leaned back in his chair, a single hand rubbing his eyes.

“So, oh great Lord of Himring. How do we handle this one?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you? You said they weren’t a danger.”

“I said they’re not necessarily a danger. Clearly, whoever or whatever they are, they have skill and could most definitely be a problem if they wanted to. We must be cautious.”

Maedhros smiled sharply.

“That will be no trouble.”

Maglor gave him a reprimanding glance and stood, walking to the main entrance of the fortress.

“Do try not to frighten them away, dear brother,” he said dryly, “they are not hostiles.”

Maedhros rolled his eyes.

“Another... feeling?”

Maglor scowled.

“If I say yes, will you listen?”

“I trust you, brother.” Maedhros replied, now serious. The two elves paused by the gate. He looked the younger in the eye. “I know you will not lead me astray.”

Maglor smiled and nodded, the weight of the words not lost on him, and the redhead returned the smile. An hour passed in which guards were surreptitiously placed around the premises, but the two lords knew the security would most likely be seen. One did not simply become a general, and by the sounds of things, these foreigners were young even for mortals.

There was a signal at the gate, and Maedhros nodded. A few shouts later, the gate was opened and Lintiel rode in ahead, leaped off her horse and bowed to the Feanorions.

“My Lords.”

Lintiel as an elf of the Gap faced Maglor, who stepped forward.

“Lintiel. Report.”

The news was as expected, almost the same message the young soldier had given.

“As of yet they have shown no signs of hostility towards us.” She paused for a moment, weighing up her next words and Maglor gently pushed her on.

“Speak, my friend. You would not do so unless you were sure of something.”

Lintiel frowned slightly and replied.

“I know I have met them for barely a day, but I feel drawn to these strangers, they radiate a strange inner light. Nevertheless I am wary.”

The brothers exchanged a surprised glance, and now Maedhros replied.

“You have done well, Lintiel, we will take your words into consideration.” Maedhros now called with a loud voice that all the soldiers could hear. “Eat then rest, all of you. It has been a long hunt.”

As the soldiers bowed then made their way through, Lintiel muttered to the two:

“They speak only the tongue of Men.”

She called the soldiers surrounded the four travellers forward, gave a short bow, then left, gesturing for the cavalry to follow and the four to stay where they were.

Once alone in the main hall, Maedhros and Maglor analysed the beings before them, taking note of them doing the same. Some time passed before Maedhros finally spoke, projecting his most kingly aura.

“So. You’re the ones I was told to expect.” He paused, ignoring Maglor rolling his eyes at the drama. “Who are you and what do you want?”

Obi-Wan stepped forward with a bow, not at all intimidated.

“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. My companions are Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano and Captain Rex of the 501st Legion. We seek shelter and a place to rest. Unfortunately our transport has been damaged beyond repair and communication to our men will take some time to figure out and re-establish.” Obi-Wan paused. “I should also mention that Ahsoka here is of a species common to where we come from. She is no creature like the orcs.”

Maedhros nodded once, but still stared disconcertingly at the four, watching as the Captain’s hand tightened around the strange black weapon, and the two youngest beings grasped the silver hilts on their waists.

Only the Master did nothing, meeting his eyes with firm resolve.

96 notes · View notes

princecharmingwinks · 9 months ago

Text

Thank you for tag, lovely @noyzinerd !! The snippet you provided on your post was brilliant! I have a few little fics on the go but this one is probably the closest to finished. Not named yet but it is a 5+1 Sterek where Stiles working at a bookstore slowly meets different members of Derek's pack who know Stiles is the perfect match for Derek.

It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon at Alpha Books, Stiles the only staff on while the bosses were away on their 2 year anniversary trip. He was happily humming along to the radio, reshelving when the bell jingled announcing a new customer.

Stiles popped his head out of the aisle and smiled, “Welcome to Alpha Books, can I help you find anything today?” The new customer was a girl, maybe a few years younger than him and small in stature but her whole presence radiated Tough, with a capital T.

“What do you get your older idiot brother to distract him from the ridiculousness of his life?”

Stiles tried not to grin at the exasperated tone but it must not have worked because the girl’s eyebrows crinkled into a judgemental frown.

“Sorry,” He offered in apology before completely stepping out of the aisle. “What does your brother like to read?”

She huffed out an annoyed sound but Stiles wasn’t completely convinced it was aimed at him. “I have no bloody clue. How do you work out someone’s tastes?”

“Well, what’s he like? Maybe we can work it out together?” Stiles was getting excited now, he loved a good book hunt.

She nodded, taking a moment to think. “He’s one of those crazy morning people who actually enjoys jogging before 7am. But it also means he’s in bed like an old grandma by sundown. He doesn’t like anything too horror-y or gore-y. I guess maybe some kind of adventure series?”

Stiles lit up with excitement, this brother sounded like he may enjoy one of Stiles’ personal favourite series. “Has he ever read the Bean and Pennywise series?”

The girl frowned again, “Been what?”

Stiles held up his hand and ducked down another aisle, returning in a flurry with the first book in the series in hand. He offered it to the girl and gave her time to inspect both front and back covers, including the blurb.

“This Bean guy sounds just like his type.” She gave a small smile and Stiles had a feeling it was a rare sight he was beholding.

He also had to fight against the blush that was probably forming when he realised he was about to admit that he related way too much to Bean. This girl was super pretty, if not also intimidating, and Stiles was sure her brother would be too. And based on her description, her brother sounded like someone Stiles would swoon over. Stating he was like the lead character in the novel who was apparently her brother's type was way too forward.

“Awesome! I’ll ring it up for you.” Stiles took the book back and headed over to the counter, slipping the store’s bookmark that doubled as marketing for his blog inside the front cover.

Hope you liked this snippet! Tagging some mutuals since I'm not sure who has been writing lately or not. No pressure of course :) @fairytales-and-folklore @breakingjen @elisela @haletostilinski

#princecharmingwrites #teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #cora hale #wip

215 notes · View notes

morganitering · 1 year ago

Text

Because I'm the Weakest II: The Women Who Never Won

Pairings/character dynamics: Satosugu, Shoko and reader, Nanami and reader, implied shoko x utahime

Contains and warnings: DARK FIC/DEAD DOVE fem!reader, Suicidal ideation, rape aftermath, referenced rape (not written out in this chap), depression, alcohol abuse, misogyny & sexism, internalized sexism, sexual harassment on minors done by minors, victim blaming (thoughts), self harm, angst, hurt & comfort, I call noncon with the official word for it

Word count: ~9,6k

Summary: There's certain desperation when you try to keep your head above water. You were drowning and all you wanted to do was to forget, the weight on your shoulders unbearable. Despite the cards you were dealt with you found yourself among allies as the web of untold memories started to unfold.

A/N: Hey! Yall waited long for this, sorry about that. I have no idea how to tag this but I'll just do it somehow, bc this is a tricky chapter. Here yall get to dive deeper in the stuff that has gone down before the events that took place in 1st chap and get a hug from Shoko. This is hopefully the last installment of this. Read the tags carefully as always and make informed decisions based on that and take care of yourself. Shit can get heavy, but I'm trying to do this in good taste.

Read on ao3 part I

Shoko Ieiri had worked a long time with people who suffered. She had seen it all, limbs cut off, even the toughest of sorcerers reduced to crying messes as they practically had their innards falling to the floor. There’s something utterly horrifying watching a patient, no – a friend scream in pain when even her skills were not enough. Funerals came and went, the white sheet thrown over the deceased on the operation table in the same routine way she’d change her linens. Nothing really shocked her.

That’s what she liked to think.

Your visits have been more frequent. It started with bruises and sprained ankles. Then it was broken bones that soon turned to puncture wounds, your clothes sticky with deep red and dirt. When she asked about it, you laughed it off saying it’s nothing, just a silly little mishap, “I was too reckless in the heat of the moment.” But your eyes were empty, your words hollow like a dead tree. Of course Shoko did her job, without asking too much. You’re an adult and you’ll speak about it if you want to, right? Her job was to keep you alive. Your job was to exorcise curses.

Shoko and you had been close too, hanging out with the two men, but at some point in high school she had withdrawn from the group. Gojo and Geto had tried to keep in touch with her in adulthood, inviting her as well to spend time together as the four of them, but she had always declined, smoothly changing their relationship to acquaintances at best. She heard enough of the despicable men from you. The only times she was in direct contact with Gojo and Geto was work related and god how she hoped that it would stay that way. She’ll play that pretend game almost happily.

Shoko closed the office door the day turning to evening, sundown coloring the city in hues of orange and yellow. She held onto her little black purse, thankfully it was friday. A man stood on the long corridor, standing upright as if he did not belong here. He looked indifferent, almost bored.

“Nanami.”

“Ieiri.”

They greeted each other with a curt nod.

“So what brings you here? You seem healthy enough,” Shoko asked as they walked to the open parking lot, only a few cars in sight. The warm summer sun caressed her cheeks, wind making her long hair flow in waves.

“I think she’s going through something,” Nanami stated as a matter of fact talking about you. He and you had gone on missions together, but something about you wasn’t right. He had seen the way you clutch your weapon, throw yourself at the enemy recklessly almost as if you had a death wish. It’s like you waited for your end.

“No shit.” Shoko chuckled amused. It was as clear as a day if you just had eyes on yourself. “Why do you care?”

“I’ve seen enough people spiral to know where it leads. You’re a healer, can’t you help?” His voice was thoughtful, not betraying a hint of emotions.

“I can’t help a person who doesn’t want it,” Shoko said. “But I’ll try to figure something out.”

“And that is enough. Thank you.”

***

You hated meetings and rarely took part in them if you could avoid them. You had not met Gojo or Geto after the unfortunate night. If there were some work related things where there was a possibility to meet either of the men, you requested to be part of them remotely or that someone would just forward the key points. But after doing this for a few months Yaga had sent you a passive-aggressive email writing that it is absolutely mandatory for you to show yourself at least once in a while. You didn’t bother to answer him with anything other than a polite see you there.

Honestly you were tired. Your whole body ached in overexertion. Sleep escaped from you, ran a marathon around the block never stopping at your house, and every time you seemed to catch a break, hazy images you rather forbid being real filled your vision. Your eyebags told a story of exhaustion, your body shrinking in every possible way away. You went to see a doctor, not Shoko, just some normal practitioner from the private sector that you ended up paying yourself sick for.

The doctor gave you pills to help you with sleep. He asked you if you were stressed or going through some sorts of crisis. You answered with a diligent no and explained that you’ve always had issues with sleep, but you were otherwise okay. He looked at you, raising his eyebrow in suspicion, the glasses on his head hung on his nose by a thread. He decided to believe you as he wrote the prescription, but insisted you took home pamphlets about depression and crisis hotlines.

You tried the pills. You did fall asleep, but only after a panic attack wrecked through your body as the effect of the medication forced you into a deep slumber. The pills made you feel your pulse in your whole body. “It’s a quite strong product, previously used to treat psychosis, but nowadays it’s for patients with severe insomnia. Take it one hour before sleep. The effect might be really sudden.”

When you woke up you decided to throw them away. It’s better to not to sleep if it meant that you’d go free from the horrors of the night you had experienced.

The huge meeting table sprawled out horizontally and was able to sit around fifteen people in it. It had several small electric outlets for computers and tablets. Light poured in from the big windows, the blinds only halfway done. You stared at the weird scribbling on the white board that Principal Yaga was wiping furiously, muttering things about how students shouldn’t be let in this room under any circumstance since they can’t differentiate which markers are okay to use on it.

You exchanged pleasantries with him. The room was devoid of people since you were too early. You swung your leather bag on the back of the upholstered office chair and sat yourself down.

Shoko walked in and her face lit up a little bit when she saw you sitting there. It was subtle, you thought that you were maybe the only one who could differentiate that expression from her. She sat next to you, a faint hint of neroli wrapping you to its calming aroma.

Next came Meimei and then Utahime who came running to you two giving a happy hug to Shoko. They were so cute together, you thought to yourself as you fidgeted with your slightly too big shoes, constantly removing them and pushing them back to your feet. People don’t usually like small talk, but nonetheless the group chatted with each other. They had to, because it’s polite and you were coworkers. You thought that small talk was easy. The script of it was burnt to your brains for the rest of your life. You get to keep people at an arm's length and keep up appearances, so what’s there not to like?

A familiar blonde man stood in the doorway. You checked your phone for the time. Only five minutes before the official start. Yuki also appeared after Nanami.

“Hello,” he said and nodded at you as he sat himself next to you. Your whole body stiffened around him. It was hard to look him in the eyes and even harder to work missions with.

It was ten minutes past the official time when the meeting was supposed to start.

“Sorry we are late.” Two men marched in the room with confident strides and took their place in front of you facing you, that was sitting in between Nanami and Shoko, Utahime next to the doctor. Suguru sat down next to Yuki leaving a space for Satoru who had Meimei next to him.

Hearing Suguru’s voice made your skin crawl.

“It’s fine,” Yaga said and looked over his shoulder to look at the white screen he had pulled down earlier with only a blue screen reflecting on the fabric. “I can’t seem to get this work anyway,” he mumbled.

“Do you need help?” Suguru walked over to the man struggling over his laptop. “Have you checked the HDMI-cable?”

“Of course I have, I just don’t understand why it won't work. We have Ijichi remote today,” he muttered partially to himself.

“Let me.”

You sat fidgeting on your chair focusing on everything else than the two men and their presence that suffocated you. If you were a candle they’d be snuffing you out but not properly, no, that would be too kind. They’d always let enough air in so that you’d never be completely put out.

“Hello to you girls.. and Nanami,” Satoru flashed a playful grin at the four of you. Your head jerked involuntarily to look at the man. Thank god he has a habit of covering his eyes, but somehow that made him even worse.

“Hello. How are you?” Nanami nodded politely.

“I’m well. Hopefully the work isn’t stressing you out too much.” Satoru’s smile widened.

“Speaking of work, I’ve heard that you and her have started doing missions together,” Satoru nudged his head towards you as he spoke directly to Nanami. “I actually green lighted the idea of sorcerers working more together. It’s good to practice teamwork and I put in good words for the two of you, since you compliment each other with the techniques you have. ” Satoru moved his head to look your way as he drew out his words in a way that you’d be sure to catch the dual meaning.

The wall flashed a few times showing the computer screen and it’s default wallpaper for only a moment and after that went back to blue.

“An idea that I actually can get behind,” Nanami said agreeably.

Your eye twitched.

“Really? That was your doing?” You barely hid the anger of your voice. One more push and you’d pour your life savings on an amoral hitman, not that you’d believe that anyone could finish him off. It was a thought just for you so you could at least think about being mean in your own petty way.

“Not a fan of working in groups of two? How about in groups of three?”

“You fucking piece of-”

“Okay I think it’s working now,” Yaga put his hands together straightening himself properly. Suguru walked over to Satoru, slightly shaking his head before he sat down. You heard Utahime’s quiet “okayy..” whispered in the awkward silence.

“Unfortunately principal Gakuganji wasn’t able to make it today, he’s sick or something.”

You heard Gojo scoff audibly.

“Try to respect him.” Yaga shot a glare in the young teacher’s way.

“Ijichi and Nitta have gathered data about the hotspots of cursed activity,” he continued and opened up the window to teams only to be greeted by a tired looking black haired man in a suit. The background behind him was red, it looked like some type of wallpaper and small paintings covered the walls. You reckoned it was a hotel room. Or a motel, you really could not tell.

“Ijichi, do you hear me? Would you like to take over?” Yaga’s voice boomed louder as if he wasn’t already near his computer.

The grainy picture of the tired man smiling uncomfortably stayed still a little too long to be taken as a real time reaction to Yaga’s question.

“I hear you. Sorry, the connection here is a bit bad.” Ijichi’s voice echoed in the office room. The picture of a slideshow appeared on the wall, making Ijichi’s face smaller.

The map of Tokyo loomed on the wall as everyone stared at it intensely, more or less dozing off. Some parts of it had big red circles on them and Ijichi explained the way these places were having exceptionally heavy activity. He reckoned that partially the rise in activity tied to the sorcerers working more missions together leaving less people available. Ijichi also showed statistics comparing the effectiveness of sorcerers based in Tokyo and Kyoto.

You were about to lose your mind, your body still pumping adrenaline after the conversation with Gojo. Everyone else seemed to be bored, oblivious to your struggle. Satoru had yawned at least three times in the last ten minutes, Shoko and Utahime were both interested in their nails. Even Suguru looked tired and he was pretty good at hiding his thoughts. The only ones who did not look outwardly dead inside were Yaga and Nanami.

“Thank you Ijichi for your hard work,” Yaga said and Ijichi nodded smiling. The pop up of the slideshow vanished from the screen leaving Ijichi’s face in a huge resolution looming onto the wall.

“We are going to take in account the effects of pairing up sorcerers. I’m not entirely in charge of how long this trial will take,” Yaga said. “Ieiri has this trial affected the health care aspect in any way?”

Shoko cleared her throat tapping open the ipad in front of her, her nails making a satisfying click click sound.

“The injuries have lessened,” she started. That’s good, you thought. “But the severity has increased,” she said with a serious face.

“Why is that?” Principal scrunched his eyebrows together.

“In my professional opinion it is due to people being more brazen when having a partner. This can be seen especially in lower grade sorcerers, who are prone to believing that they are invincible when someone backs them up.” Everyone had turned to look at the doctor who played with her hair idly as she spoke.

“And the second grade and up?”

“It happens less. But there are some, even first grade sorcerers, who are accident prone,” Shoko said and quickly looked at you, not long enough for others to pick up on that she was speaking about you.

Gojo’s phone rang in the middle of the conference. He left the room with an apology and never came back. Relief and anger ignited in you playing tug of war in your heart as your eyes followed him bitterly.

“I think this is all. I’ll send everyone the upcoming jobs, but if no one has anything to say, I think we can conclude this meeting here,” Yaga said, the choir of thank yous and goodbyes filling the room.

You stretched yourself, happy to be on your feet again.

“Hey, can we talk?” Nanami tried to get your attention.

You stood in the room that was quickly emptying out of people. Shoko awkwardly hung around in a small distance from you and Nanami, trying to pretend that she wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“I don’t entirely understand the conversation between you and Gojo, but if I have somehow disrespected you I offer my deepest apologies.” Nanami’s voice was soft. Your heart ached as you realized how bad your words must have appeared to him.

“I’m so sorry. It’s not about you. You’ve done nothing..” You trailed off as you saw the tall curse eating man walk outside with a sly smile on his lips.

“That’s a relief but if I may be so blunt, I have a hunch that there is something bothering you,” Nanami said.

You looked at him and chewed your lower lip nervously. This was all their fault. If they had not done what they did, you would not be in this position. The least they could have done is to keep the names of people you know out of their mouths.

“I’m sorry to leave you hanging like this, but can we finish this conversation later?” You hurried past him, only hearing Nanami mumble the word ‘sure’ like a kicked puppy and you said goodbye to Shoko agreeing on staying in touch with her.

The corridor was almost empty as you walked through the school building frantically searching for that bastard of a man. Your footsteps echoed on the wood as you arrived at a not so well known exit of the building. Geto stood in front of the dual doors, half heartedly pushing it open as he furiously wrote something on his phone.

You yelled out his name, but he did not bother to react to you. You closed in on the man that was still standing back towards you. Anger surged in you as adrenaline made you braver than what you normally would be. You were supposed to just grab the ends of his hair that were sprawled across his back, but in the heat of the moment your impulse control had another lapse as you kept on raising your hand. A fist closed around the bun that had been carefully crafted on his scalp and you dug your fingers around the hair tie and then yanked, hard.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He turned around stepping out of the doorway letting it close properly with a thump and he closed the distance between you for good. His eyes shot daggers at you.

“You did not pay attention to me.” You shook your hand out of the spare strands that were stuck on your palm and offered the small hair tie back to him.

“Well you got it now,” he hissed. “You can keep that as a souvenir. I don’t want anything that a filthy bitch like you has touched,” he said, the calm composure nowhere in sight.

A filthy bitch? Really? Then maybe you should break up with Satoru if this is your deal breaker.. That’s what you wanted to say, but you held back your tongue.

Geto took a deep breath, calming himself down, slipping on the mask that you were more used to seeing. He put his phone back in his pocket.

“What do you want?”

“You told me,” you started, tears threatening to flow over. “You told me that I can just leave and do whatever I want. Why do you keep tormenting me? Why do you let Gojo do what he does?” Your voice broke as you started crying openly. You hated it, it made you weak. No. You were weak.

“Firstly, I’m not his guardian. He can do what he wants.” He sounded like a smartass.

“Second of all, never. And I repeat. Never, lay a hand on me ever again, especially on my hair.” You rolled your eyes.

Of course it was the hair that ticked him off completely. It was his crown, the only thing he had ever been able to take care of besides Satoru. Suguru loved to flaunt himself as the calm one, the kind one, but the exterior had always had some cracks in it. No amount of paint was able to hide the rotten wall behind it.

“I can forgive your outburst at Satoru’s, but now that you’re in your right mind, you won’t get second chances.”

“I don’t want ‘second chances’. I want you to leave me the fuck alone so I can do my job,” you yelled at him.

“Lower your voice. Or do you want to air out all the dirty laundry for everyone?” Geto hushed you.

“It’s not my ‘laundry’, it’s fucking yours!” You roared and tears fell down your cheeks blurring your vision. Your face felt hot as it got wrapped in the wrath of your words.

Geto did not answer you, instead he chose to stare you down, not moving at all as if he was a statue. He looked like a child throwing a tantrum when things did not go his way, his face contorting to a sneer that could challenge any rich spoiled brat. You panted and wiped your face with the rough backside of your palm.

“Move.”

“Ladies first,” he snickered childishly and kicked open the heavy door with his foot as he stepped slightly to the side. God this man hangs out too much with Gojo.

As you left the school grounds barely holding your breakdown away, there was one figure in the corridors hugging the wall near the exit, clutching onto her purse.

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, 2006

“Truth or dare?” Satoru asked, popping the pink bubblegum in the air, sucking the sticky material back in his mouth to chew on loudly.

“Truth,” Shoko said, placing another cigarette in her mouth. She smoked especially heavily when she was drinking.

Satoru had managed to bring a whole six pack of beer to the picnic whereas Suguru had found a travel size vodka bottle from his parents. Shoko had brought a package of different berries and salty crackers with her.

“If you could have any technique in the world, which one would you have?” Satoru asked. He looked at the clear blue sky and the way the summer breeze pushed on the white clouds.

Shoko played with the corner of the blanket as she thought deeply about his question. She stared at the shoes she had placed on the grass and the manicure on her toes that Utahime had insisted on putting on her.

“I think I’d keep this one,” she smiled wistfully.

“Really? You wouldn’t want my powers?” Satoru looked at her tilting his head to the side. He spat out the chewing gum and placed it on the plastic lid that belonged to the packaging of berries. He did not like it when things ran out of flavor, always searching for something more.

“No. I don’t envy you at all. I just want a happy life and that’s all” Shoko answered his gaze, with a gentle smile. “Besides, I like the way I am and I suppose I can help people like this,” she added.

Satoru hummed. He was clearly dissatisfied with the answer.

He did not exactly know why.

“Satoru, that's sad. You should ask something fun,” Suguru pointed out and took a sip from the beer can.

The three of them sat on a grassy hill that had a pretty decent view of the city and the park below it. Shoko leaned against the huge tree behind her back. The cicadas were performing their own concert with the hum of motorways working as their orchestra.

“You figure out better questions then,” Satoru pouted, but wasn’t actually hurt.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask though?”

Shoko looked in the distance watching closely how a woman jogged with her shiba inu, her ponytail swishing in the same rhythm as the chord of her headphones. Both men nodded slightly out of sync.

“Satoru truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Who’s the hottest person you know?” Her eyes twinkled teasingly.

“Waka Inoue of course. She’s sexy as hell!” Satoru slapped his hand on his heart as if he was saluting.

“Really? You still have a crush on her?” Suguru questioned. It was his turn to pout. “Am I not enough?”

“Baby you’re plenty, but you can’t replace a huge rack,” Satoru’s voice was steady as if he was talking about the most important thing in the whole world.

“I can’t argue with that.” Suguru sighed defeatedly, his shoulders slumping down dramatically.

“Ugh. I shouldn’t have asked that. Both of you are so weird and gross about women,” Shoko grimaced regretting her decisions and lifted the cigarette to her mouth as if to cover the bad taste of Satoru’s words.

The man in sunglasses ignored the criticizing words. “Suguru. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to share this,” Satoru lifted up a huge strawberry. “Like in Lady and the Tramp with Shoko,” he referred to the scene where the two dogs shared a spaghetti meal, eventually kissing.

“That’s too small!” Shoko protested immediately, shaking her head. The idea of doing that with Suguru made her feel iffy.

“I’m game if she is,” Suguru said and offered his palm to Satoru who plopped the berry in his hands.

Shoko had a nervous giggle come out of her.

“C’mon, it’s just a game. You can always let go after like one bite. This is truth or dare afterall,” Satoru coaxed.

“Fine. But I won’t kiss you, not even a peck.” Shoko established her own rule and rolled her eyes. She put out the cigarette on the grass and left the butt there.

“We’ll see about that,” Suguru laughed and picked at the stem that got thrown over next to the chewed up gum.

He awkwardly came closer to the young female student and placed the bigger end between his lips. He looked silly, the red end peeking out of his mouth. Suguru attempted at mouthing the words ‘come closer’, but neither Satoru or Shoko understood his words but the context clue carried the point to Shoko.

She got on her knees sitting on top of her legs and straightened herself out. Suguru was way taller than her, even when he sat. Her face approached Suguru’s who had a pink tint on his cheeks from the alcohol he had drank.

She opened her mouth and barely bit down on the smaller end, her tongue touching the bumpy texture of the strawberry.

“Ready. Set. Go!” Satoru exclaimed, motioning finger guns happily. His gaze was completely glued on his two friends.

Suguru closed his eyes and he started to carefully nibble, closing dangerously on Shoko’s lips. She bit quickly, not really tasting anything and began to pull away in hopes of Suguru calling it quits too.

Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough. The last bits of strawberry fell down on Shoko’s lap when Suguru pressed his lips against hers, a faint red trail dripping on her chin. She didn’t move and her eyes widened in shock. Shoko didn’t know what to do so she just held her hands on her lap.

Suguru pet gently behind the girl’s head kissing her motionless lips. His hand trailed down to her neck and all the way to her shoulder. Shoko felt the sweet taste in her mouth mixing with the alcohol, stranger’s saliva and nicotine as Suguru dragged his hand to the mound of her breast. The warmth emanating from his palm was enough to bring her back to reality and Shoko pushed the bigger guy off of her.

“Why did you do that?” she snapped and crossed her arms.

“Oh don’t get angry now. Have a drink and chill out.” Satoru sighed. He shuffled awkwardly and placed the almost empty tote bag on his lap and grabbed a new beer can from there. Shoko narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but did not want to make room for any weird thoughts that would imply even weirder things. “It’s just a joke.”

“This is not the first time you take jokes too far.”

Shoko looked away from the two boys, disappointment turning into an ache in her heart and wiped her chin clean from the strawberry. She slipped on the ballerinas laying on the ground.

“Seriously? You’re leaving because of this?” Suguru tilted his head, his voice defensive.

Shoko threw her cigarettes and lighter in her own purse checking the blanket for other stuff she had.

“Yeah, I am. I’m not having fun anymore.” Her voice was cold as she was attempting to hide the nervous tremble in her body and almost jumped up throwing the bag on her shoulder. She turned around, once again crossing her hands against her chest as if to protect herself and started walking.

“Hey! Don’t you want your blanket with you?” Satoru yelled after her. The two guys sat on the quilt completely bamboozled.

“Keep it! I don’t need it!”

She didn’t eat strawberries for the rest of the summer.

***

“Hey you really should sing this one!” Shoko laughed as she scrolled through the song list.

“Whaat? No that’s not even funny,” you laughed and slapped her arm gently.

“Is it really not? Or are you just a bore?” Shoko taunted getting ready to put the song on.

“Can we sing something from this?” You pointed at the category called 2000’s hits.

“I’ll pick something at random and you’re just going to deal with it,” Shoko laughed clearly tipsy too after the multiple drinks you both had drank.

The disco ball was spinning around the small room painting the walls in hues of blue, red and green. Nanami sat on the couch nursing his whiskey as he stared off into space. The upbeat music filled the room, bass shaking the ground underneath your feet.

It was the first time going out after the events at Gojo’s house. Shoko had basically begged you to come with her to get shit faced complaining that she really needed someone to rant with. You told her that Utahime was right there and would probably love to listen to her, but she claimed that the woman from Kyoto had other plans for the weekend.

After arriving at the karaoke bar you had been taken back after seeing the stoic blonde man at the venue. You weighed the option of immediately leaving in your head, but your conscience did not allow you to do so, after leaving him so rudely hanging in the meeting. When the three of you had gotten your own private room you decided to immediately order shots and drinks with the only goal of getting absolutely black out drunk tonight despite having Nanami there.

It was honestly rare to see him after work as he had preferred to keep his distance. He was wearing the same clothing he always wore, dress shirt ironed, necktie perfectly hanging against his chest as if he was on the clock. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he were to whip out a cursed tool onto the bar table.

You clutched onto the microphone singing unevenly as you danced to the beat, half of the syllables disappearing to you being out of breath. Shoko cackled, almost folding over as she kept slapping her thigh eyes watering. She had drunk a few drinks less than you and she had been exceptionally happy even before drinking. Truthfully Shoko was quite a heavy drinker and she definitely should not have been as wasted as what she appeared to be.

Nanami stared at the both of you, raising the whiskey glass to his lips after checking his wrist watch.

“Come here! Sing with us!” You yelled to the mic only getting a slightly alarmed expression out of him as he shook his head.

“I think I’m okay with watching you two perform,” he said.

You pouted but kept on singing, your concentration skills nonexistent. You did not notice the way Shoko glared at him, nudging her head towards you as she pointed the microphone in her hand towards him.

Nanami cleared his throat under the threatening gaze and clumsily got up.

“Oh my god! Nanamiii!” You screamed the noise so high pitched that even the speakers were unable to handle it and you could see how Nanami cringed at the sound.

Shoko squinted her eyes and mouthed the word sing to Nanami. Shoko was not going to deal with you alone.

The combination of the pop song and Nanami’s voice made you giggle as you hurrayed him happily. He was not a bad singer by any means, but his voice did not fit the song choice. You wondered to yourself, why had you not gotten shitfaced earlier when you had all the good reasons to.

Shoko decided to take a small break sitting on the spot where Nanami had been earlier and inspected the brown liquid swishing in the glass. She stole a sip from it when Nanami wasn’t watching, not really caring about the fact that it wasn’t her drink.

You grabbed your drink from the table and drank from it and you kept on singing happily, almost jumping around. Nanami looked at you with a terrified expression when you moved side to side with the drink spilling on your hand, but you did not notice the wetness of it.

“Hey, put that down before you drop the glass,” Nanami said and gently tried to take the glass from you.

“No, I want to keep this,” a pout formed on your face but you still did what he told and turned around swiftly to place the drink on the counter. Your vision was blurry, the lights slightly too bright and you lost your balance tipping over the glass that was already safely on the table. You felt yourself starting to fall but a strong arm snaked around your waist to stabilize you.

The world felt like it was stopping when the arm around you changed into a tight rope that pressed around your ribcage. The karaoke room changed inch by inch to a vast room with a wall made of windows with a night view of the streets of Tokyo. The shattered drink turned into a broken light bulb on the floor. You felt a hot breath on your skin, but your body had gotten cold. It was as if you had been dunked into ice water, all the earlier excitement completely vanished. The disco ball spun around casting blue lights on the white haired man’s face that ogled you like a piece of meat. The imagery was so vivid and real in your mind that you reacted on instinct, elbowing the man behind you.

The rope vanished around you as the windows melted to the concrete floor, the shadows of city lights turned back to the tacky illumination of the disco ball. You felt the remnants of cursed energy fizzing out like a soda can as your eyes landed on Nanami, who was slightly hunched over holding onto his side the pain making him grimace. You had no idea how much force you had actually used, but probably quite a lot judging by the way Nanami was reacting.

Shoko stood there completely still, eyes filled to the brim with worry and confusion. Her lips were ajar and she gulped down wanting to say something, but she did not know what.

“My apologies. I didn't mean to touch you inappropriately,” Nanami managed to say. The music track played in the background, but it felt empty without a drunken voice guiding it. He was lucky to have good reflexes, instinctually protecting himself from the blow, otherwise Shoko would have had a patient off the clock.

“Uh,” Your mouth gaped at him hopelessly. He had done nothing wrong.

“I’ll go for a cigarette,” you blurted out and left the room hurriedly. The long hallway stretched in front of your eyes as you looked at the numbers on karaoke booths, only muted colors flashing through the slightly translucent doors. You leaned on the wall as you dragged your feet forward arriving at the front desk that thanked you for your time, but you did not pay attention to them and turned to your left to stare at the steep stairway.

The steps were made out of wood with a black paint that had started to chip away and the walls were pure red, too bright and intense for your eyes. You focused on the door in front of you and barely saw the red walls around it as they got covered by a dark cloud, your way of seeing more animalistic than human.The only thing in your mind was the need to get some fresh air as emotions threw you around like a shipwreck at the sea.

You pushed the door open and walked over to a bicycle stand choosing an empty spot where you plopped yourself on. You rocked yourself back and forth as you cried and gripped onto your skin painfully hoping that at least the physical sensation would put an end to your suffering. You started to be more aware of the familiar banging against your skull.

The door of the karaoke bar opened as Shoko walked outside, her face now serious, resembling more the woman she was at work than the friend giggling at drunk people's jokes.

“Hey. You forgot this inside.” She handed you your bag.

You wanted to answer something but you could not as the words got stuck to your throat. Your world flashed back and forth between sensations that you weren’t supposed to feel in this moment. The guilt and sadness ate you alive, nipping away from your vitals the more you tried to push them down.

Shoko placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it up and offered it to you. You took it gladly off her hands inhaling the sweet smoke, but you almost ended up suffocating on it as your nose was too stuffed to handle it. Even the menthol taste was unable to help you with this issue. Shoko opened the green box once more to get herself a smoke as well.

She took a drag out of it and watched your shuddering figure.

“I saw you in the hallway with Geto. Something happened at Gojo’s right?”

You lifted your head up mascara running on your cheeks. Had you not been in such a bad state her words would have shocked you.

“I can’t help you if you don’t want my help.” Shoko crouched down to your level. You stared at her face as she left out a puff of smoke that trailed around her face, the dark eye bags now more visible than ever.

You choked on your tears once more, now openly wailing on the pavement your fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm. You dragged your nails across yourself leaving pink trails behind it, the soft tingle covering the areas you had just clawed at.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you cried, your words hard to decipher as your breath hitched. “I can’t keep on doing this. It’s all my fault. I’m so stupid,” you screamed snot falling onto your shirt.

“So fucking stupid!” You impulsively pressed the cigarette butt against your thigh melting the cloth away the stinging pain shocking you as your skin shed its layers against the fire.

You had no shame in your breakdown, frankly you did not even recognize the others that looked in your way speaking with hushed voices around you, as they tightened the grip on their partners hands. “That girl really needs to lay off the drinks,” someone had said loudly. Shoko had wanted to immediately pounce, but she held herself together. She knew that you needed her more.

“Don’t hurt yourself, when you want to hurt someone else,” her voice was just a whisper. “Can I touch you?” She asked not wanting to trigger you further. You nodded.

Shoko pulled you into a tight hug and you buried your face on her chest, holding onto her like it was the last thing keeping you afloat. You seeked comfort in her presence.

“I want to die.” You gripped onto her tighter. “I’m so weak.”

Shoko stroked your hair, her own eyes watering as she listened to you wordlessly. She felt your pain almost just as viscerally as you were experiencing them now.

“No matter… no matter what I do. I can’t escape them. I just want to be gone. I want to-”

Shoko shushed you and slipped her free hand into her pocket, digging out her phone. Almost ten minutes had gone by. She awkwardly opened her chat with Nanami trying to inform the man who was probably still sitting in their booth waiting for the two of you to come back.

A male voice disturbed the two of you. “Is everything okay?”

Shoko pressed her hand on your shoulder pushing herself up from the ground, she whispered to you to stay put, not that you really were in any condition to go anywhere.

“Good that you’re here. I was just about to text you. Can you get us a taxi?”

“Of course,” he said and opened the app punching in your address that Shoko forwarded to him. He looked so much older and out of place in the busy street.

This was the kind hearted and lovely Nanami that had forgiven you immediately, after you had punched him in the gut because you were fucked up in the head. The kind hearted and lovely Nanami that you couldn’t look in the eyes, because of a certain man whose name you felt like acid on the tip of your tongue. The thoughts in your head brought fresh tears to your eyes. You dangerously sailed in the deep waters of suicidal ideation, your tired hands opening the forbidden door.

“It’s going to arrive in five minutes,” Nanami hummed.

“I think you should go. I’ll handle this,” Shoko said, her voice full of pity. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Nanami nodded in agreement.

“For what it’s worth, take care of yourself too.” Nanami’s words were carefully chosen, anticipating that you weren’t the only one who needed a hug.

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, YEAR 2006

The beach was filled with people who enjoyed the way the sun spoiled them with its warmth. Shoko was sitting on a towel next to Mei Mei who applied generous amounts of sunscreen on her hand. They sat underneath a parasol that had been propped in the sand, covering them both from the direct sun. The brown haired girl watched as Utahime excitedly threw herself to the water. She had given up on trying to get Shoko and Mei Mei in the water as well.

“Mei Mei, don’t you have a lot of experience with boys?” Shoko almost whispered and hugged her legs. Her beach shawl swayed when the breeze decided to start playing with the huge piece of cloth.

“Are you trying to imply something?” Her voice was low and melodic but not at all accusatory.

“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to ask you something.” Shoko shook her head flustered. “Is it normal for a guy to kiss a girl without asking?”

Mei Mei burst into laughter. This was the question Shoko was getting all worked up for?

“Shoko,” Mei Mei’s eyes glimmered softly when she said the younger girl’s name with gentleness that reminded her of a mother tugging a child into bed. “I did not take you for being this innocent,” she teased.

“I’m not innocent,” the brown haired girl huffed with the unexpected blush decorating her cheeks.

“Did someone do that to you?” Mei Mei tilted her head curiously and offered the sunscreen bottle to Shoko who happily took it to her hands.

“If I tell you, will you promise that you won’t tell anyone?”

“If I’m honest, I don’t think I care enough to tattle. You got me curious now. Tell me,” she hummed as a smile curled on her lips.

“Well uh.. Suguru kind of kissed me when we were playing truth or dare with Satoru,” Shoko explained . She ran her hand between the warm sand, the grainy texture giving her something else to think about. “It was a stupid dare on Satoru’s part. Dunno why I accepted it.”

Shoko added that she did not want to kiss him under any circumstances but the boy had managed to go over her boundary with ease.

“That’s it?” Mei Mei asked, raising her eyebrow. She was almost bewildered at how tame the story was.

“Yeah.”

The blue haired woman scoffed.

“Guys think that girls like it when they take control and in a certain sense they are right. Maybe they got their eyes on you? Although, I did think that Suguru and Satoru were..” Mei Mei’s voice trailed off as she thought. “It doesn’t matter.” She concluded.

“If I were you. I’d go along with it.” Mei Mei suggested.

“No way. I don’t like them like that. Besides that’s not what I asked for your opinion on.”

“And?” Mei Mei turned her gaze on Shoko, her eyes hardening as she intensely stared at the younger girl. “Those two men are our generation’s strongest and you’re going to complain that one of them gave you a little kiss?”

Mei Mei’s melodic voice dropped lower as she showed her true feelings of distaste towards Shoko’s views.

“If I were you,” she started again, her voice tough and bitter. “I’d be securing my spot by their side and not planning to bring forth meaningless accusations over a game of truth or dare.”

Shoko was at loss with the things that were being said to her. Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to speak with Mei Mei.

“I did not say I was going to tell anyone,” her voice was squeaky like a little girl’s.

“But you thought about that right?” Shoko did not deny nor confirm the accusation.

Mei Mei’s face softened. “Shoko, you’re a smart girl. You should know better than to get shaken by two boys, especially when you so eagerly lead them on.“

“..I don’t lead them on.”

“Then stop meeting them in your spare time. If you do that, guys will think that you’re willing. You’re not a kid anymore, they do notice that you’re a woman now.”

She stayed quiet, Mei Mei’s words burning on her skin worse than the summer heat. She did not want guys thinking about her that way. She simply wanted to be their friend and the idea of boys and girls being unable to do that because of bodily differences made Shoko shudder.

“You want to help your friends, right?” Mei Mei asked when Utahime got out of the water.

Shoko nodded.

“Then become a doctor. That’s the best you can do to others with the technique you have.” Her words were probably meant to be comforting, but they made Shoko’s heart sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“Shookoo!” Utahime ran towards the two girls sitting on the beach towels.

“Are you willing to swim now?” Sand and water droplets clung onto her radiant skin that the younger girl admired silently. Shoko felt her heart skip a few times in her chest when Utahime offered her hand to her.

“Sure.” The shy smile stretched on Shoko’s lips.

“I’ll stay here. But you guys have fun.” Mei Mei announced as she opened the book next to her the pages slightly crumpled up.

Shoko did not really register Mei Mei’s voice anymore. She grabbed Utahime’s hand and the world slowly faded away around them.

****

Shoko went through the bathroom nimbly avoiding piles of clothing or takeout bags as she looked through your bathroom cupboard. She found a bag of half used cotton pads and a micelar water from the mess.

The taxi drive had felt like eternity. Your tears had dried before settling in the car and numbness had taken over. Shoko helped you to your bed and said that she’d come back soon, closing the door behind her giving you some space to change into something more comfortable.

The door opened. Shoko looked at you and sat on the bed. You were using a pillow as a support for your back. The night lamp’s warm color casted shadows around your puffy face. The woman shook the bottle in her hand and poured liquid on the white cotton pad and tilted your face towards hers.

She pressed the pad on your eyelid carefully letting the mixture soak through the heaps of makeup on your face. You sniffled sadly before speaking.

“I can do this on my own too.”

“I want to do this,” her voice was soft as she spoke the makeup remover leaving your skin slightly cold. You simply nodded and admired the way her hair framed her face.

“You know I’ve had my own bad experiences too,” Shoko said, her face turning to a slight frown. Her mind was sailing in memories that she had given up on trying to understand.

You were at a loss of words. You wanted to pry, but it felt invasive.

“With them? Really?” You heard yourself asking as you danced on the line of impropriety.

“Yeah,” Shoko hummed, “but we shouldn’t have this conversation yet. Maybe in the morning, but not now,” she tried to make her voice sound brighter, feel brighter as if it would fix everything.

“Okay,” you said. Maybe she’s right about this. Shoko discarded the dirty cotton pad, simply placing it on the bedside table. It was at its limits the whole thing turned into the color of your foundation with the small black streaks of your mascara on it, or what was left from it.

She held onto your face gently for a moment too long even after she was done. You opened your eyes to really look at her. She looked so sad and.. young? Yes young was the right word. She looked like a woman robbed out of something sacred. She had been so happy, so easy to excite in her youth, but now all she seemed to carry was baggage.

Your drunken mind wanted to close the distance, but something held you back. Maybe it was all the answers that were still being withheld by her, maybe it was the understanding that it’s not the right time yet.

“Can you stay the night?” you whispered. Shoko breathed in and opened her mouth to say something, but you were faster. “Please? Th-there’s some clothes you can borrow in my closet.”

She stayed quiet and you waited patiently.

“I’ll stay.”

You smiled weakly at her and muttered a gentle thank you. She shuffled up from the bed and walked over the closet you had pointed for her. You turned your back to her when you heard the rustling of clothing that she ended up piling up neatly on one of the spare chairs in your bedroom.

You fluffed up the pillow next to you and lifted up the blanket when she climbed in. You turned your back to her as you lay down on your side. Your hand searched the light switch and then the room was pitch black.

Shoko awkwardly came closer to you till your back was against hers and she played with your hair idly in the silence. The touch was friendly, your body slumping in relaxation almost immediately. It was nice to have someone there. You had gotten so used to being afraid of the nights.

“Good night,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Night.”

***

You woke up alone with no trace of the woman in your room. She had gotten up earlier than you and dressed up back to the clothes she had in the bar. You hugged your plush blanket, almost burying your whole face underneath it, not ready to face the day.

Your head hurt and you felt nauseous. How is Shoko even able to do things? You wondered to yourself.

The faint knock on the bedroom door disrupted your thoughts as the door opened slightly.

“I made a sandwich for you and found some painkillers, if you want any,” she said and you heard her steps further away again.

You groaned and threw the blanket away from your body, the cold greeting you roughly.

Your kitchen had gotten miraculously cleaner, the multiple empty beer cans piled in a bag and the dishwasher hummed quietly. You stared at the brown table in front of you that had two sandwiches and glasses of water on it, hunger long gone from your body.

“You really should drink less.” Shoko picked up another empty can from the counter just to place it in the bag.

“Like you’re the one to talk.” You sat on the chair with its legs squeaking against the floor with your rough treatment.

You grabbed the pill bottle and rattled out two tablets that you threw in your mouth and drank barely enough water to chase them down.

“What do you remember?” Shoko asked and sat in front of you. She wasn’t feeling very hungry either.

“I remember punching Nanami and the talk we had before we fell asleep,” you mumbled, playing with the edges of the slightly crusty lettuce between your sandwich. You had meant to use it on a salad a few days ago, but you were too tired to cook for yourself. Even the simple things were hard. “What did I tell you?”

“Nothing. You were just crying.”

Oh. So it was like that.

“They assaulted me.” Your face was stern, emotions hidden behind a wall. The words felt weird. It was the first time you had actually said it out loud.

Shoko’s face widened from shock.

“They what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” you hissed.

“Sorry, I won’t.”

The silence felt unbearable and you stuffed your face full of bread just to do something.

“They did something similar when we were still in school.” Shoko ripped the hangnail painfully from her skin and pressed on the miniscule wound with one of her fingers.

You chewed the sandwich aggressively without tasting anything, the texture turning to mush in your mouth.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Your words were way more accusatory than what you wanted.

Shoko turned her head to the side looking hurt by your sudden outburst. Her eyebrows scrunched together in pain as she looked for the perfect words, but there were none.

“You admired them. I didn’t want to take that away from you, and when I realized that I probably should have said..”

“Bullshit, Shoko. It’s been ten years. I deserved to know, you could have-”

“Stop blaming me for their shit!” she yelled. Shoko never yells.

You fell quiet. You reined in your anger, its hands still attempting to reach out to anything it could latch on. She was right. It’s not her burden to bear, but you still couldn’t help but feel powerless, when there could have theoretically been someone who could have told you to not go there.

“Sorry,” you simply said just to drop the topic. Shoko sighed defeatedly and pushed her head briefly against her hands. She understood the anger, she really did.

“They drugged me and then raped me together. I don’t remember a lot from it. I fought back – well attempted to,” your voice shook as you spoke.

The brown haired woman simply looked at you with silent empathy.

“Did you at least get one good punch in?”

Your lips curled into a downhearted smile. The memory of your feeble fight playing in your mind, the weakness and despair of it all, a futile attempt of a prey to preserve their life just one moment longer.

“Not a single one,” you laughed hollowly as one tear rolled on your cheek and your lips trembled. “But I did rip some hair out of Geto at the school,” you tried to brighten your voice and be brave.

Shoko’s eyes watered and she answered your smile with her own.

“Good.”

The almost happy expression faded from your face. Everything hurt, never had you ever thought to be in a situation like this where you were exchanging devastation with your friend like gifts on christmas.

“Why did you stay? Even Nanami left for a while, you could have done the same.” Your question was gentler this time.

Shoko pondered for a minute, not sure of her answer either.

“Because this is the only way I could help. I had you and Utahime and I didn’t want to leave you two behind. Besides what else was I supposed to do? I’ve been given a technique that can save many if I choose right. Had I left a lot more could have died because I wasn’t here — all because of what two men did,” she tried to put her thoughts together.

“There’s a reason why Utahime doesn’t like Gojo,” Shoko blurted out and played with her hair.

You took a careful sip of water as if you were trying to carefully dissect the different flavors of Shoko’s words.

“What do you mean? Did they do something to her as well?”

“No. I just mean that women know, you know? I think it’s in our blood to recognize danger. That’s one of the reasons she despises him. But this is just my thought, not an universal truth,” Shoko wondered out loud.

She breathed in once again as if the words she was about to speak were too painful.

“I think sometimes us women have to carry the atrocities of men. There’s no rhyme or reason why they do certain things. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I never went through what you did, but I can’t say that I’m surprised,” she mused. “I’m sorry though. What you went through. It’s not right.”

Her brown eyes stared at you expectantly. You chewed on your lip nervously and tapped the empty plate with your nail, the small tinkle sound working as a metronome.

“No, it’s not,” you huffed. But it feels like it’s my fault. If I had not gone there, if I had not idolized them – loved them even. This wouldn’t have ended this way. It was easier to leave those words in your head.

“So what now?” You looked at Shoko, your eyes pleading, asking for answers, guidance, anything she would be able to provide to you. You knew there was nothing clear cut Shoko could say, but god how you wished that someone would know what to do.

Shoko shook her head in defeat as if telling you that she wasn’t able to point you on the right track like that.

“Whatever you want. You can stay or go, but you don’t have to carry it alone,” Shoko said, her face gentle. You could still draw out the remnants of the young girl from the year two thousand and six on her features. The lines were almost faded but they were still there.

You found kinship in her even if neither of you had shared the full story of what had happened. You weren’t there yet and you weren’t ready. Instead the two of you skirted around words unspoken finding solace of at least having someone who could understand. It was up to the both of you what to make out of the confessions of the past.

#tw: noncon #shoko ieiri x reader #ieiri shoko x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru

470 notes · View notes

youkissedareaderinthedark · 2 years ago

Text

Red Bull Family

Synopsis: Y/n L/n joins Red Bull Racing in 2022, and after some warming up, becomes Max Verstappen’s best friend. These are seven moments over the years when the energetic young adult breaks down “Mad Max”

young female driver reader x platonic max verstappen, charles leclerc x reader if you squint

so, I saw a rumor one time about how Max might want to leave f1 after his contract ends in 2028, so I thought it’d be fun to write a story about a teammate friendship and how it feels when one person retires. for this one, reader is 19 and max is 24 when she joins red bull in 2022

(y’all this fic took over a week to write and is almost 10k words 💀 idek if it’s good or not but i am not leaving this is my drafts)

2022- “Welcome”

You didn’t know why you were this nervous. It was just a team. They were just your coworkers. He was just your teammate. Today was your first day at Red Bull Racing. In the middle of the 2021 season, Christian Horner approached you with an offer to leave Alpha Tauri and join the Red Bull Team alongside Max Verstappen for 2022. You didn’t know what to expect from your new team, much less the infamous “Mad Max”. You knew that he could be kind and funny, but you also knew he could be cold and brutally straight forward.

With as much confidence as you could gather, you walked out of your car and towards the Red Bull Headquarters. The only person you knew was the team principal and that was only because of contract meetings and phone calls. It was your only chance at a first impression, and you were determined to make a good one.

The first person you saw when you walked inside was Christian, though he was surrounded by a few other people. “Y/n! Welcome! It’s nice to finally see in here in headquarters” Christian said, offering a smile and a handshake. You offered your own hand as he introduced you to the people around you.

“This is May Dawson your ‘minder’ or personal assistant, of sorts.” A woman that looked around your age stepped forward and shook your hand.

“Pierre Wache, our technical director” A middle-aged man stepped forward. “And our director of engineering, Paul Monaghan” The last man present shook your hand.

“So, first, we’re going to introduce you to everyone in the factory, just to give you a chance to meet everyone, then, there’s a meeting with the five of us, it’s not going to take very long, it’s just to further introduce you to Red Bull, alright?” Christian puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you through the factory. You just nod and smile as you look around the factory.

Your team principle gives you a mini tour of the place while you walk to the main garage, where your co-workers wait for you. You smile as you enter the room and applauds fill the space.

You greet as many people as you can as the five of you walk down the stairs. “Okay, okay. Thank you everyone for being here to introduce our newest driver, Y/n L/n!” Everyone starts clapping again, and you notice your teammate across the room.

As Christian continues talking, you make your way towards him. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m-” He cuts you off. “Y/n L/n, I know, he just said that” Max chuckles at you.

“It’s nice to meet you too, I’m Max” He takes your outstretched hand. You take notice of Christian’s lasting speech.

“So, how long do these ‘introductions’ usually last? I mean, you know, right? I’m your third teammate in three years” You both laugh.

“Yeah, you are. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. But then you have your introduction meeting, that lasts at least an hour and a half, and then I think you’d have some media stuff afterwards. So, you’re not leaving for a couple hours” Both of you laugh again as your team principle’s speech finishes.

“I’ll see you soon, good luck” Max smirks at you. “Thanks, see you soon” You smile back at him as May approaches to take you to the meeting.

Your teammate turns out to be right, and you don’t end up leaving the factory until after sundown. Your first day consists of a lot of handshakes, a photo shoot in your new attire, and a thorough tour of Red Bull headquarters.

You're due back tomorrow for some more introductory stuff and a meeting with your PR team. The first race of the 2022 season isn’t until a month and a half, but there is a lot of prep work.

There were no knots in your stomachs as you thought of your upcoming weeks at Red Bull or with Max. You didn’t really know what to expect, but you were excited, nonetheless.

2023- “The Dream Team”

It’s been over two years since you’ve been recruited to Red Bull, and you couldn’t have asked for a better two seasons with the team. In both 2022 and 2023, the lowest result you’ve got was P9. You and Max have completely dominated both race seasons, with a Red Bull driver always on the podium. Christian Horner was extremely pleased with his driver’s performances and the rest of the racing world came to love watching you race.

The fandom also loved seeing you and Max together. Your first days at the factory started the friendship and partnership that so successful today. The team behind Red Bull’s YouTube channel had you film a ‘Two Truths and a Lie” video as your first appearance together and the two of you have been attached at the hip since. You’re the first person to congratulate each other after a race and are known for speaking very fondly of the other when given the opportunity.

Max sees a lot of himself in you and ever since the first time he saw you in the Red Bull car on the track, he knew you were going to be something special. You were right about him being kind; the Dutch man has acted like your mentor during your first year at Red Bull, offering advice and never faltering in his belief in your success. He made you laugh a lot too, especially when Daniel Ricciardo was by his side.

Daniel joined you two in most media duties for the team, and it usually takes forever to get anything done due to the constant talking and laughing that goes on between you three. You met the Australian later in your first week at Red Bull and in true Daniel Ricciardo fashion, he made you feel comfortable immediately and the two of you became fast friends.

Seeing as Formula 1 was nearing the end of the 2023 Season, Red Bull decides to bring back a popular class, On the Sofa with Max Verstappen, Y/n L/n, and Daniel Ricciardo. You teased it with a photo of the couch on your Instagram and the fans went crazy. It was a bit sad knowing it was the end of the season, but you were mostly excited, both to go home and to do an iconic video with Max and Daniel.

“Hello everyone, I’m Daniel Riccardo”

“I’m Max Verstappen”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is, for the first time in a while actually, On the Sofa, with Max, Daniel, and Y/n” The older man introduced you three. “If you don’t remember, it’s fine because neither do I” The three of you smiled. “We are going to be reflecting on some on-track and off-track moments from this racing season. I’ve got the questions, they might have the answers, let’s get started”

Daniel turned to you. “Y/n, you decided to copy me and win in Monaco, your first win in 2023, also. What was going through your head throughout the race, when you crossed the finish line, and during your dive into the pool?”

You smiled at the memory of your first win. “Well, a lot of the race was me trying not to get too excited and mess up. I qualified P2, right behind Max, and because there isn’t a lot of opportunities to overtake in Monaco, I was pretty comfortable finishing there, but then I overtook him towards the end of the race and spent the rest of it trying not to freak out. I was really relieved when I crossed the finish line, and the dive into the pool didn’t even feel like an option. Jumping into the pool is something iconic for all drivers who win there, how I am not going to do it?” You spoke honestly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t copy my belly flop too” Daniel said, making you laugh. He turned to your teammate. “Max, she beat you. How did that feel?”

“Oh, it felt great, you know. I love being overtaken by my teammate. It’s a great feeling really” Max replied sarcastically. “No, but actually, I mean, obviously I wasn’t happy about not winning but it was nice to see you win, I was proud, if I’m not gonna win, I’d want it to be you” He turned to you and a smile came on your face. Daniel let out a small smile before interrupting. ‘Alright enough of the sappy, ‘I love you’ bullshit” He picked up another card.

“Max, what was your favorite win this season?”

“I think the Austrian Grand Prix. With it being at the Red Bull Ring and having a lot of Dutch fans there, it made the race pretty special” That was a good day for Red Bull, a 1-2 from you and Max and a lot of support from the fans. You remembered the cheers from the arena and the celebrations that seemed endless.

“Yeah, you liked flexing on everyone else, didn’t you” Daniel joked and the three of you laughed. “Someone ask me a question now” Neither you or Max were given cards, but you were happy to improvise.

“Daniel, what was the best part of filming your show, ‘Grandstand' with Will Arnett?” You asked. “I think just getting chance to commentate and watch the race with someone. I mean, I’m usually watching the race from the garage or the pit wall, but it was fun to just talk and kinda goof around while the race went on instead of just watching” The Australian replies.

“Y/n, what was your favorite off-track moment from 2023?”

You immediately grin. “Definitely the paint video. By far, that was so much fun.” At the Belgian Grand Prix, the Red Bull media team had you, Daniel, and Max, do a painting challenge. Daniel and Max had to give you instructions to create a portrait of the three of you, while you were blindfolded. You were laughing the entire time, and it escalated to a paint fight once they insulted your finished portrait. The team was mad at you and Max for ruining your clothes and causing a delay for you three of clean up, but it was worth it.

“Oh, the paint video was so much fun”

“I still have some of that purple paint on my hat, I think” You splattered paint on one of Max’s beloved hats, claiming that he should add a purple one to his collection. The three of you laughed and Daniel picked up another card. “This one is for both of you. What is the best part of having the other as a teammate?” You looked at each other before you responded.

“Well, first off, Max is more than my teammate, I think that’s the best part of it” You chuckled before continuing. “I mean, you’re my mentor, you’re my friend, you’re my supporter. You’ve made my first year of Red Bull easier and a lot less scary than I thought it would be, and not a lot of drivers have all those things in a teammate”

You finished, not wanting to ramble on about how grateful you were for your friend and looked at Max, who was smiling at you. “Wow, Max, how are you gonna top that?”

Max chuckled at that before answering. “Y/n is all those things for me as much as I am for her. When I’m unhappy with my performance, she is there for me. Without even realizing it, you teach me things that I probably would not have learned with anyone else as my teammate” He speaks to you now.

“Aw, what a love fest. You guys should hug it out” Daniel comments. “You have to join the hug, too, Daniel” you say before moving closer to the two of them. The Australian wraps his arms around the younger drivers in a hug, swaying slightly, before completely pushing you and Max off the couch.

“No love here. Only violence and pain” You and Max laugh from your places on the ground. “That’s it for today, hope you had a fun 2023 season, don’t do drugs, and we’ll see you next year” Daniel said before walking out of frame. You and Max both waved to the camera. “Bye everyone, we’ll see you next season!”

2024- “More than you think”

It was Round 7 of the 2024 Race Season and for once, Monaco couldn’t have been uglier. It was pouring rain and the wind could be heard over the twenty car engines. You’ve driven in a lot of wet races since you joined Formula 1 in the beginning of 2021 but never in one as bad as this one.

You and Max were talking about the conditions in your driver's room and how even though you both thrived in the rain, this was too intense for comfort.

“I mean, I know the FIA is brain dead in most situations, but, jeez, you’d have to be blind to make us race” You complained to your teammate seated beside you on your couch.

“I know, and in Monaco too” Max trailed off, hoping there wouldn’t be any crashes today. Soon enough you two had to separate to prepare for the race, but not before promising to see each other off before you got into your respective cars.

An hour passes and the rain doesn’t let up. Your race engineer informs you that if anything, it’s somehow supposed to get worse. Frowning, you make your way to Max’s side of the garage to wish him luck. “Hey, be careful today, okay? Good luck” You tapped him on the shoulder and put your hand on his shoulder.

“And you the same, yeah? Good luck” He pulled you into a hug before putting on his balaclava and helmet.

Both Red Bulls start their formation laps, trying to see through the rain and avoid the other cars on track. Your heart beats faster as you approach your place of P3 on the grid and the five red lights come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Monaco!” The voice of Martin Brundle becomes audible. You manage to pull away, but the tight corners of Monte Carlo don’t allow you to gain a lead. You struggle through the mist of the two cars in front of you for the first 11 laps of the race but manage as best you can, until you get to the straight after Turn 8.

You didn’t see Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you. The spray from the rain kept you from knowing that he slowed down, until your front wing hit the back of his car. The collision caused your car to turn almost 180 degrees around, making the car behind you, Fernando Alonso, ram into the side of your car. The impact made you spin off track and into the barriers for a harsh stop.

“Big collision on the straight before Turn 9! I think that’s Y/n L/n’s Red Bull! She was hit by Fernando Alonso, I think, after Charles Leclerc braked.” Martin commentates as he looks onto the track. ‘That looked very bad, might be- yep, red flag until we know if L/n’s okay. Her car has stopped but she hasn’t moved yet”

You were completely disoriented in your car, your dizzy head making it hard to comprehend what had happened. Once you realized you had crashed into the barrier, you noticed the intense pain coming from your left leg and left side of your rib cage, the side that Fernando hit.

You tried to get out of your car, but your leg made it nearly impossible, you would have to wait until the safety marshals arrived.

Max was in P1 so he didn’t see your crash in person, but he saw glimpses of it through his rearview mirror. “That was Y/n? Is she okay?” The Dutch asks his race engineer, GP. “Yeah, that was Y/n. No information on her yet. Just slow down and get back to the pitlane” The man responds. “Is she out of her car?” Max radios again. GP didn’t want to worry Max, knowing how close you two are, but he knows he has to tell Max.

“She hasn’t, Max, Y/n is still in her car, that’s all we know. Just focus on getting back to the pits safely” Max ignores GP again.

“What has she said?” Gianpiero hesitates for a moment before responding.

“Nothing, Max. There hasn’t been any communication from Y/n yet.” At that, Max mutters “Fuck it” before pulling his car over after Turn 11 and shutting off the engine.

“Max, no, come back to the-”

The driver cuts his race engineer off. “No, I’m going to see if she is okay. Don’t try to stop me”

Max was thinking back to your conversation before the race and became filled with worry. He knew he should’ve pushed Christian to get the FIA to cancel the race; he knew it was too dangerous. Now you’ve crashed and are unresponsive in your car.

Max runs through the rain to get to your car to see you struggling to get out. “Y/n! Are you okay?” He shouts loudly as he gets closer.

“Not really. My left leg got hit, and I think I hurt my ribs” You wince as you shout from your cockpit.

“I’m going to help you get out, let me know if it hurts too much” Max stands over you and grabs your hands to pull you up. You crouch on your one good leg and let him help you stand you up in your seat, one arm across your ribs. “Good?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’m going to get out from here”

“Let me carry you, keep your bad leg out” Max comes to the side of your car, and you make out his outstretched arms through the wind and rain. He puts one of your arms around his neck and grabs your good leg, carrying you bridal style.

He puts you down a few feet away from your car but makes sure your arm is still around his neck so he can help you walk. “Look, the marshals are coming. I’m going to leave you with them and come see you after the race, okay?” Your teammate says as the safety car pulls over next to you and Max.

“Okay, thank you Max, you know you didn’t have to”

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says honestly.

“Good luck” You called out as two medics came out of the car and wrapped your arms around their shoulders. They took you to the medical center where you were diagnosed with a fractured knee and a few fractured ribs. You spent the rest of the race in the hospital so doctors could put a cast around your leg, while May sat beside you and updated you about the ongoing event. She got there a little after you did so she could gather all your stuff from the garage, and you could go back to your hotel once you get discharged.

A knock on the door interrupts your conversation with her. “Hey” Max’s head becomes visible as the door opens. “Hey Max, congrats on P1. I’ll check you out, Y/n, I’ll come back in a few minutes” May nods and leaves you and Max alone.

“Hey Max, you did great out there” You smile at your teammate from your place on the hospital bed.

“Thanks, I was happy Charles and Carlos got to the podium with me, but I wish you could’ve been there”

“Me too, but..” You trail off, gesturing to your leg and torso.

“So, I talked to Charles and Fernando, they plan on visiting you at your hotel tomorrow, they were worried about you, especially Charles” The Dutch man tells you.

“Yeah, I figured, I’ll talk to them tomorrow” It is silent for a minute, until Max suddenly blurts out. “Are you okay? I mean, I know you aren’t okay, but, how long until you are?”

It wasn’t until now you noticed that Max’s blue eyes are filled with worry. “The doctor said it would be at least a month until I can race again, and I’m going to be in the cast for a couple weeks” Your teammate frowned.

“I’m sorry, Y/n” You shrugged. “It’s not your fault”

“I know, but I wish I could help”

“Don’t worry about it, Max. I’ll be back soon, it’s only a month”

“I know”

Who you can only guess to be May knocks on the door. “I’ll see you, later, Y/n, get better soon” He grabs your hand before leaving the room. As you ride back to your hotel, you look at social media to make a statement about your current state.

Max has surprised you about a lot of things today, and by the looks of the comments under the videos about your crash, the fans are too. You’ve never been in a serious crash to the point where you need to go to the hospital before, but you expected Max to just text you after his race and ask about it the next time you see him.

The fans are going crazy, mostly the ones that ship you two together, but generally they’re just happy you seemed okay. You would comfortably say that Max is your best friend, but still, he’s not the type to stop his own race to check on you. It may have taken you two years, but you finally realize that “Mad Max” isn’t mad at all.

2025- “By my side”

It was the beginning of the 2025 racing season, you were in your fourth year at Red Bull with Max and by this point, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. There is no point in having separate driver’s rooms because you are always in his, your press officers have given up on trying to get the two of you to behave and just let you follow each other around the media pen, and your Red Bull co-workers are smart enough to not let you two alone in a room together, especially not after you two had found the old Crazy Carts and pulled a “Daniel” by putting a hole in the wall. Christian feels like he has two more kids, and let’s Geri take care of you however she wants. Your families are close too, always sitting together nervously in the viewing room. Kelly is basically your older sister and Penelope loves you like an aunt, so your excitement about their engagement is understandable.

Max proposed at the end of Abu Dhabi in 2024 and if Charles’ arm wasn’t around you, keeping you grounded, you would’ve been jumping up and down and screaming. You almost tackled her in the hug, the smile on both of your faces blinding. Penelope grabbed your hands and made you start dancing to the music blasting from the speakers with her, while the arene was booming with cheers. You geeked out the same way once the invitation was sent to you and let Kelly gush about the wedding all she wanted once you got your nails done together.

You and Kelly’s friendship started when complimented her jacket when you met her in the 2022 Monaco Race. She gave you the name of the place, but when you joked about not knowing French and having no idea how to get around the city, she offered to take you there herself if you were still around Monday afternoon. You went and had a really good time with the model, talking mostly about how different you two are and making fun of Max. At the next race she attended that year, you two went out for coffee Friday afternoon, and it quickly became a tradition after you went out together a couple more times.

You met Penelope soon after that and fell absolutely in love with her. You thought she was adorable and was so glad she seemed fond of you too, probably because of the candy you give her every time you meet. Your friendship continued to get stronger, leading to now, talking about your role in her wedding.

The event was not going to be small in any way, and Kelly really wanted someone she could trust to keep an eye on her daughter and keep her out of trouble when she couldn’t. Her best friends and family already had their own parts to play, and knowing how much you adored the young girl, she chose you.

The wedding was held at a beautiful venue in Monaco, and it couldn’t have gone better. You weren’t the only driver there, Daniel, Lando, and Charles were present and accompanying you. When you weren’t keeping Penelope occupied, you were with them, talking about Max and Kelly and dancing.

You smiled fondly as the couple when they stood at the altar and would be lying if your eyes were completely dry as you watched them take their first dance. The four of you took photos with the married couple, and you even have some of just you and Max and you and Kelly. Everyone had a great time; love was an amazing part of life, and you were happy to watch your best friend experience it.

Unfortunately, loss was also a part of life. And it nearly killed Max to watch you go through it.

Days before Round 10 of 2025, you got a call saying one of your closest friends, Luis, had been killed in a car crash.

Luis was a part of the friend group you had back home, and you had known him for years at that point. He was hilarious and caring, always making sure you knew he supported you no matter what. A member of the same friend group called you in tears, and it took everything in you not to break down as well.

It was Thursday, meaning you had media duties for hours. You almost left your driver's room to get May and ask her to cancel your responsibilities, but then you remembered that were supposed to meet your PR officer outside the garage in less than five minutes so she could escort you to the media pen. You talked to your friend as long as you could, promising to call back as soon as you finished, and hung up the phone to leave. You blinked back your tears as you met your officer and didn’t even bother putting on a smile as you passed your co-workers.

You met up with Max as you walked. “Hi- what’s wrong?” He immediately notices the frown on your face. “I’ll tell you after” You’d start crying if you talked about it now. You answer questions for what feels like an eternity, probably sounding like a robot, giving generic answers.

You were grateful when you were excused from a press conference and made a bee line for your driver’s room. You locked the door behind you as you grabbed your phone and called your friend back. She broke into tears as she told you the details of what happened, and you couldn’t help but join her. You sat on the floor, back against the couch as both of you cried over your friend. Sobs escaped your body faster than you could stop them and you prayed no one heard you.

You were proven wrong when you heard a knock against the door, and the voice of your teammate called out. “Y/n? Are you okay?” Max pauses, waiting for a response. “Let me in, Y/n, please”

You turned back to your phone. “I’m sorry, Max is at my door, I’ll call you back and we’ll talk” You told her this exact this thing hours ago and was frustrated you can’t spend more than a few minutes alone.

Wiping the tears off your cheeks, you unlocked the door. “Y/n, I heard you crying, what’s wrong?” Max put his hands on your shoulders. “I- I just found out my friend from home, Luis, died-” That’s all you manage before you have to cover your mouth to stop a cry from leaving.

“Oh, Y/n” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, holding your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry” He repeats, rubbing your back. He brings you to sit down on the couch, an arm around your shoulder and a hand to wipe the tears falling from your cheeks. You sit with Max until you calm down a bit and are ready to talk.

“Luis, he was one you told me comes to the grand prix’s in your country, right?” You nod.

“My friend told me he was in a car crash this morning, on his way to work. I don’t know, Max, just, the fact that he died doing what I do for a living is just...” You trailed off, trying not to cry again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, it’s not fair. Here, let’s go back to the hotel, you can just relax for the rest of the day”

“Yeah, yeah, we should go. Also, about tonight, can you tell everyone I’m feeling sick or something?”

You and Max were supposed to meet a few other drivers for dinner later, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. “Yeah of course. I’m going to get my stuff from my room and then we’ll leave, yeah?” He leaves and you pack up all your stuff before Max meets you in the hallway.

The trip back to your hotel was silent and Max leaves you with a hug before going to his own room. You were finally able to connect with your friends back home and talk about when you’d be able to see them next after you traveled home Sunday afternoon. You spent the rest of the day in your room, thinking and listening to music when you didn’t want to think anymore.

You didn’t feel any better the next morning, and just hoped to get through Free Practice 1 and 2 quickly. You didn’t smile as you walked through the paddock, keeping your sunglasses on and taking the quickest way to the Red Bull garage. You have headphones in as well, so everyone gets the message that you’re not up for conversation.

FP1 and FP2 go by quickly and as always, the Red Bull does well, and you come right behind Max in P2 both practices. You leave the same way you came in, walking quickly to avoid the press. Your fellow drivers are still around the paddock, and they still don’t know why you’ve been holed up in your hotel room for two days. You haven’t talked to Max much since yesterday, but when you have, you’re glad he doesn’t just look at you with pity and actually checks on you.

You talk with your friends about the funeral arrangements for Luis next week before you talk with his parents, two people that have been as supportive of you as their son has, making you cry again. You skip out on your dinner plans with May and your PR officer with apologies and promises to make it up to them and order room service.

You make yourself a little more approachable on Saturday morning but keep the sunglasses. You wave at your friends but don’t stop to talk. At this point, most of the drivers know something is seriously upsetting you. They watched your media day interviews and barely recognized the person in front of the microphone.

A few of them asked Max about you when they run into him, but your teammate doesn’t want to tell everybody something you might not be ready to share.

He is by far the most worried driver of them all. He’s your best friend and he’s never seen you like this before. Max knows how close you were to Luis; he’s used to hearing stories about the adventures you had when you went home for a few days and can only imagine how you’re feeling inside.

Nobody goes out Saturday night in preparation for tomorrow’s race and you’re glad to have more time by yourself. You take the sunglasses off and stop to talk to your friends on Sunday, the first time all race weekend.

Max walks with you through the paddock, letting you talk when you want to or be silent if you choose. You don’t visit his driver's room, but you make sure to give him a hug before you get into your respective cars, an unspoken ‘thank you’ for his support over the past few days.

The race cheers you up a bit, you go P1 and point at the sky as you stand on top of your car in front of the garages. When the cameras pan over to you, you make sure the top of your helmet is visible, where an R.I.P. Luis sticker is. You wish he could’ve been here to see you win, but you know he would’ve been proud of you.

Max brings you into a hug after he parks behind you in P3, and you’re reminded how grateful you are that he is your best friend.

2026- “We should be proud”

You and Max have accomplished a lot together throughout the past four years. Max is now a four-time world champion, winning 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2025. You beat him in 2024, and you’ve just beaten him to the 2026 title. You and Max have been almost tied with points every year since you’ve joined, so it usually comes down to the last few races to decide the winner. Beating Max wasn’t at all easy, and it didn’t get any less difficult to beat the rest of the grid.

Red Bull can no longer completely dominate as they did in the early 2020’s, but they still manage to top the other nine teams. Ferrari and Mercedes are the biggest rivalries, but a few other teams cause your cars a fair bit of trouble. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri at Mclaren bring stress for the three big teams, as do Lance Stroll and Mick Schumacher at Aston Martin.

The partnering of Yuki Tsunoda and Daniel Ricciardo has brought Alpha Tauri up to the midfield and has allowed both drivers to stand on the podium multiple times. It’s made the last few years very exciting, and even though you love winning, you love seeing your friends succeed as well.

This year had been no different; You and Max had each won a fair number of races and had each stepped onto the podium multiple times. Ferrari and Mercedes had not made it any easier than previous years but still, by the time Abu Dhabi came around, Red Bull had a lead of 30 points over the second-place team, Mercedes. You were currently first for the Driver’s Championship, but Max was close behind with only a 19-point difference. If he won tonight’s race, he would become a five-time champion, and you’d have to wait until next year.

You tried to shove that thought out of your head with headphones. Your trainer just finished helping you warm up for the race start in an hour and you’re in your driver’s room. Usually, you’d be walking to Max’s room to chill out before drivers have to get into their cars for their formation laps, but you two had long come up with the agreement not to see each other before races that would determine the championship.

When it is time to start the formation lap, you go to the garage and instead of hugging your teammate like you usually do, you settle for a handshake and a nod. He’s your best friend, but also your closest rival. You start P2, Max beating you by half a second yesterday, and anxiously wait for the five red lights to come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Abu Dhabi! Verstappen has a poor start, L/n takes advantage of it and tries to move in front of him and Y/n L/n is now leading this race but Max Verstappen is not far behind, the gap is less than a second, and Verstappen takes P1 back from L/n. It has been an exciting year in Formula 1, what better way to go out than a classic Red Bull battle?” David Croft commentates for the crowd.

It’s a great racing day for Formula 1; the weather is nice, and it looks like all twenty cars are going to last the 58 laps. As you continue the race in P2, trying to defend against Charles Leclerc behind you, you try to think of strategic ways to win the race. You don’t get very far, because you remember that Max is driving the same car as you, and by now, you’re as good as the Dutch man.

Your teammate takes a somewhat early pit stop and you’re able to gain a lead, but then you have to pit and get stuck in P6 behind Lance Stroll.

“Lap 35, Y/n L/n is leading in P1, Verstappen P2, Sainz P3, and Russell P4. Interesting lineup here, but the real fight is within Red Bull. We’re over halfway through this race and L/n and Verstappen have been trading places all day. There are not many options as to who will win this race, folks, but that doesn’t make it any easier to predict”

It’s Lap 50 and the excitement has winded down. It looks like everyone behind you and Max are going to stay the way they are currently, meaning you’ll be sharing a podium with Charles. Whether you’ll be standing on P1 or P2 you still don’t know. Max has made his way in front of you but you’re restless, gaining on him every possible moment, being only a few feet away from his rear wing on the straights.

You’re starting to get nervous now. This would not be your first World Championship, you had that moment in 2024, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t mean the world to you if you became a two-time world champion.

You think it’s your nerves that help you pick up on the fact that Max’s car locked up for just a second before going into the final turn. You think it’s your nerves that make your foot push through the gas pedal and help you get in front of your teammate. It’s Lap 51 and you’re in front of your teammate. You could win this. You could win this.

These words were like a mantra in your head, all the way until Lap 58, when you actually start to believe in yourself. The Dutch man behind you is relentless, getting so terrifyingly close to overtaking you, but never quite getting fully past. “Keep him at bay, Y/n” Your race engineer comes on over the radio. “Keep him at bay and it’s yours, Y/n”

And thirty seconds later, it is yours.

“And it’s Y/n L/n! Y/n L/n is the winner of Abu Dhabi 2026! Y/n L/n is the World Champion! Ladies and gentlemen, L/n is the Champion of 2026!” Crofty shouts and suddenly the only thing you can hear in your race engineer through your ears. "You've done it! You are the World Champion! The World Champion!”

“Holy shit, oh my god, holy-” Suddenly one of your arms is waving up and down because it’s the only way to express energy in your tiny car. You’re screaming, definitely making everyone down at the pit wall’s ear’s bleed. You feel tears in your eyes and don’t care because you were close to sobbing in 2024.

“Y/n, congratulations, you are officially a 2-time World Champion. We are so proud of you down here, congratulations” Christian’s voice comes over the radio next and you feel like you're floating through your cool-down lap.

You put one of your hands on your helmet as if you were covering your face and remember to wave to the crowd. You drive your car in front of the paddock where the 1st place sign is and get out of your seat as quickly as possible. You put your arms in the air and allow yourself to hear the roars of the crowd. You get down to run to your team, but you see Max first.

You know he just lost to you, and he probably is upset but he’s your best friend. Without hesitation, you run to him, and he meets you halfway to pull you into a hug. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m so proud of you. Oh my god, Y/n, I am so proud of you” Your teammate has to shout, even though your heads are right next to each other.

He unwraps his hands from around your waist as you both run to your team. His side of the garage has been so successful these past few years and it’s a win for Red Bull overall, so they cheer just as loud as everyone else, just glad to see you happy. You both jump up so you can be caught by the engineers and it’s just a mess of high fives and cheers.

You both finally pull off your helmets and balaclavas and turn to see each other’s grinning, flushed, faces. You hug each other again. “We should be so proud of ourselves, Y/n. I’m so happy for you” Max doesn’t lie to you, so you’re glad you don’t have to worry he feels otherwise. You both pick up your towels and water bottles before you have to give interviews for Sebastian Vettel.

He became like Nico Rosberg, coming back to the paddock, not as a driver, just as someone who likes to be involved in Formula 1 and has the right to. You were on the grid with him for two years before he retired, and even though you two have never been best friends, you like him, and he roots for you especially. “Before I ask any questions, congratulations” The German man pulls you into a hug. “Thanks Seb” You grin.

“Y/n, you’ve just accomplished something unbelievable in F1, and have ensured Red Bull go down in Formula 1 history. What’s going through your head?”

“It’s unbelievable. I mean, it was more unbelievable the first time, but doing it a second time, just feels incredible. I’m really happy to be a part of Red Bull, and I’m really happy I’m able to help them achieve bigger things” You smile as you give your answer.

“Well, we’re all happy for you, Y/n. Again, congratulations, you drove very well today” Sebastian shakes your hand and sends you off.

While Max steps forward, Charles comes to you. “Congratulations! I am so happy for you. You deserve this” The Monegasque brings you into a tight embrace. “I am so proud of you” He kisses you on the cheek before letting you go. “Thank you, Charles, congratulations to you too” Charles has finished third in the driver’s championship every year since 2024 and you’re happy he’s finally getting the car he deserves.

You go into the driver’s room where a camera and TV wait for you. “A four-time world champion and two-time world champion. We are the dream team, aren’t we?” Max grins at you as he takes a seat. “Definitely” you say as you look at the screen, watching your championship win as long as they let you.

2027- “An Outsider’s perspective”

It has been almost ten years since Drive to Survive premiered and by now, all the drivers on the grid are sick of Netflix’s bullshit. They made it seem like you either hated or were in love with half the grid, and somehow managed to make fake conversations about teammates and contracts. Almost all the drivers never went in for interviews anymore, but a certain email caught their attention.

One thing everyone had known for years; You and Max were best friends. Another thing that nobody had known until about a month ago; Max was not extending his contract with Red Bull to go past the 2028 season. The director of Drive to Survive saw this and thought about making it into a second-to-last season finale of the show. Max’s patience about his contract news had worn out quickly, and nobody has been updated about it in a week.

Everyone in the entire world has heard you and Max say that you two were just friends a million times, but that didn’t mean they weren’t curious to know if there was more going on. It was time for the rest of the grid’s opinion on it.

“So, Charles”

“Lando”

“Carlos”

“Daniel” The director asked the Red Bull drivers’ closest friends.

“What’s really going on between Max and Y/n?”

Charles lets out a small smile. Lando groans. “Seriously?” Carlos rolls his eyes. Daniel laughs.

“There is nothing going on. They are just friends” Charles is confident.

“Nothing! For god’s sake’s...” Lando’s annoyed

“I mean, I don’t think anything romantic is going on. I think they are just very good friends.” Carlos is honest.

“They’re married and they have three secret kids in Monaco” Daniel continues to laugh.

“So you don’t even think they’ve kissed before?” The director continues.

“No” Charles shrugs.

“Maybe. I’m close with both of them but I don’t think it’s any of our business”

“No one except them can know for real. I haven’t seen them kiss before, but I don’t know”

Daniel stops laughing “No but actually, they're not together. Trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. They’re not a couple.”

“You don’t think anything is behind those glances?”

“No”

“Like true love? No” Lando laughs.

“Well, it’s obvious that they love each other. You just said it, the meaning behind their looks, you cannot ignore. But I still don’t think they are in love”

Daniel smiles now. “There is definitely some love between them, in their looks. It’s pretty obvious, I’d say”

“Do you think, let’s say, in another life, they would’ve been together?”

Charles cannot deny this question. “Yes, I do. Not in this one, but in another life, they are definitely soulmates.”

“Yes, I do actually. In another life they are 100% in love and have been together since 2023, probably.”

“I think so, yes. In another life though, not in this lifetime” Carlos smiles.

“Oh yeah. In another life they probably are married and have three secret kids in Monaco”

“Why do you think? That they’re together in another life but not in this one?

“Because they are meant to be with different people”

“I don’t know. Some people might say Kelly, but, if they really wanted to be together, they wouldn't have let somebody else come between them. They just don’t love each other like that” Lando says.

“They are just not meant to be together, I guess” Carlos says.

“They don’t love each other like that. Obviously, they love each other in some way, but not the kind you have in a relationship”

What is one time you thought they were definitely a couple?”

“To me, it was always obvious that they were not. I know to a lot of people it is the opposite but for some reason I could just tell, they loved each other but only as friends.”

“I remember one summer break in 2024, when Daniel invited me, Max, and Y/n to spend some time in Australia at his farm with him. This was a few months after Y/n crashed in Monaco, by the way. I remember we were all on a beach together, and Y/n just kept pulling Max behind her, telling him to look at seashells and crabs and stuff like that. And he didn’t protest at all, no matter how much random beach crap Y/n handed him” Lando smiled. “I thought; ‘Max would never have the patience to let someone pull him around like that’ But he did, and I think it was because he was glad she wasn’t seriously hurt in that crash”

“I said it earlier. I don’t think I ever thought they were. Me and Y/n are very good friends and when I first asked, she told me they were not together, and I have not thought otherwise”

“There have been a few moments over the years at this point, where for some ridiculous reason, Max gets a huge wave of hate at a time and- well, Max has never been one to care what other people think of him, but some stuff really got to him, and I remember Y/n making a few posts on social media telling everyone to stop, and that the stuff they were saying to him was really disgusting and undeserved. She knew everyone would think she had some sort of feelings for Max after that- I did and they’re my best friends. But she did it anyway, multiple times. And Y/n thinks it’s really annoying when people say they’re a couple, so for her to do that... I thought they were 100% in love”

“Last question. What do you think makes Y/n and Max, Y/n and Max? What about them makes them so different than other driver friendships?”

“I think their similarities, I think that’s what started their friendship in the first place. Max has said he sees a lot of himself in Y/n and she joined Formula 1 and Red Bull when she was young, they both did. So, I think it’s that, their similar achievements and such, that helped them become such good friends” Charles answers.

“Their personalities, I’d say. They have similar senses of humor and- they're very different actually. They say opposites attract and I think that’s true for them. Max is a bit introverted, and Y/n is not at all. People think Max is too serious and if I had to add to that, I think Y/n makes him loosen up a bit” Lando states.

“I’d say their loyalty to each other. You know how when you were in school, and the teacher would say, ‘everyone chose a partner’ and you and your friend immediately look at each other? That’s Y/n and Max. They each have a lot of friends but at the end of the day, they’re only looking at each other” Carlos says

“Everything about them together just clicks. If you watch them interact, you can understand how comfortable they are around each other. If Y/n is buying food, she gets extra for Max. If you can’t find Y/n around the paddock, you start looking for Max because he knows better than you do. There’s no hesitation when they touch, whether it’s a hug or just a hand on the shoulder. It’s a combination of how long they’ve known each other and how well they know each other.” Daniel explains.

“Okay, cut!”

2028- “The End of Something Great”

You’ve known for longer than anyone else has. Not because he told you. Because you know him. You don’t know how to explain it, only that you’ve known for almost a year at this point that Max’s contract was ending and he was not going to renew it or look for another team. You think it’s something you’ve always known, since you first saw that Max’s contract was set to end at the end of 2028.

What you don’t know is how you feel about it. You’re happy for Max because he is leaving on his own terms, and as world champion. But you feel like crying once you realize you won’t see him as often anymore. You’ll be best friends always, you know that, but it won’t be the same. Not the same as when you’re driving right next to him, or as when you’re training together, or as when you’re eating breakfast together at hotels.

You’re driving to Red Bull Headquarters for the last time for the 2028 season when you’re thinking about this. You have to turn the radio on to stop yourself from tearing up. Red Bull’s media team is having you two do a ‘On the Sofa: Goodbye Max’ video before he leaves F1 forever and you’ve been dreading it. You’ve enjoyed every second of driving alongside Max Verstappen and you’d do it for another six years if you could.

You take a deep breath as you walk in with May and towards the showroom, where the sofa and your teammate await. The cameras are already rolling and you’re not even in frame yet. You know the people behind the camera want every moment of your goodbye.

You let out a small smile once your eyes meet. “Hi” You move to hug him. “Hi” He whispers back. “You ready?” “No” Another sad smile.

“Hello everyone. I’m Max Verstappen...”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is On the Sofa with Max and Y/n, for the last time” A laugh escapes your mouth and you put your head in your hands.

“I thought you were sad?”

“I am. I just laugh when I probably shouldn’t”

“Y/n” He gets right to it, knowing neither of you are in the mood to joke around before starting. Reading off the card in his hands, “What are three things you will miss most about me as a teammate?” You don’t even bother trying to be funny or careless.

“Um, filming videos for the channel, testing days were always fun because they let us talk to each other while we’re in our cars, and traveling together, I think” Max laughs. “Oh, testing days were never productive, I mean, at least not for us” You laugh along with him, thinking of the fond memories that have accumulated over the years.

“What has been your favorite video we’ve filmed over the years?”

“We’ve done so many I can’t pick just one, so I’ll say…I think the videos where we’re competing against each other. Like that one baseball game we did in Texas one year, and all those races we did on track, like the roller skates and the scooter one, those were fun because we always just ended up laughing”

“The ones where we’re against each other are definitely very fun” You’re both grinning now.

“What are two things that have changed, and two things that have stayed the same over the past six years- wow, six years. It’s been six years?”

“Oh my god we’re so old- you’re 31 and I’m 25. Jeez”

“Old? Six more years and you’ll be 31 too”

“Yeah and you’ll be 37” You snicker.

“Answer the question” Max rolls his eyes fondly.

“Fine. Two things that haven’t changed are the fact that you’re still wearing that fucking hat, and the fact that Red Bull has billions of dollars and refuses to by a more comfortable couch!”

“Yeah this couch sucks”

“Two things that have changed... Well, we’re both old-“

“Stop calling me old”

“and we’re both World Champions” You smile at the camera.

“Okay, Y/n, if you could choose your teammate for next year, who would you choose and why?”

You stop laughing. “I would choose you because I don’t want you to go” Another sad smile. The mood in the room changes. Max pulls you closer and into a hug. “I know” He says to you.

When you pull away, you try to hide the tears shining in your eyes and you’re surprised to see Max turning his head away too. “Y/n” He grabs another card to distract you two. “If you could relive one moment from the past six years, what moment would you choose?”

“I’d relive all of it if I could. I don’t regret a single second and I’d do it all again like that” You snap your fingers, and you don’t hide your face when the tears spring up again. The video is almost over and you both feel it.

“Y/n, if you had one wish right now, what would it be?” Everyone in the room knows the answer to this question and you don’t know why the marketing team chose today to come up with these questions. “I’d wish for you to stay” At that, a tear drips down your cheek and Max brings you into his arms. You freely let water drip down your face and are surprised when you feel a drop or two of water fall on to your shirt. You’ve never seen Max cry , you don’t think anyone has, but for this moment he lets his emotions overpower his pride and shed a few tears.

“Oh god I haven’t cried in a while” You let out a weak laugh when you pull away. “Me either” And then you're both looking somberly at each other, feeling too much to say.

“The last thing we’re going to do is helmet swap” He breaks the silence as you both pull your written-on helmets out from behind the couch. You decided to give Max the helmet you were wearing when you won your second World Championship. Max hands you the helmet he was wearing a few weeks ago, the one he was wearing when he won his fifth and final World Championship. You smile before reading the paragraph written on the side.

“Y/n, when I met you at the factory all those years ago, I did not expect you to become the person you are to me today. You are my best friend, my supporter, and my confidant, and I don’t know where I’d be without you. We’ve made so much history together, and I hope you go on to make some more. Never stop driving, I wish you the best. Your teammate, Max Verstappen”

You hug Max before he can see your shining eyes. “Thank you for everything” He whispers. You both stand up once you pull away but wrap your arms around each other’s shoulders once you do. “I’m saying all my proper goodbyes to everyone later, but I’ll give the gist of it now” The Dutch man looks at the camera. “Red Bull, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. It’s been an incredible past few years. And I don’t say it much but thank you to all my fans. I’m so grateful I’ve been able to race in F1 for so long, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The End. Goodbye!” Max waves to the camera and you join. Everyone behind the camera cheers. You and Max hug for the last time as teammates and you wish time would stop right there. “The end” He says. “The End”

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic max verstappen #red bull driver reader

1K notes · View notes

gallivantingheart · 21 days ago

Text

in sickness

who?: seungkwan x (f)reader

word count: 1562

genre/s: fluff, humour, idol!au, established relationship

warnings: references to flu/illness and food

synopsis: while you might not want to bother your boyfriend amidst his busy schedule, a surprise visit forces otherwise

a/n: yay first seungkwan fic! and I fixed my laptop battery today! all by myself!!!

You feel like death warmed up. Everything hurts and even though you swear you can smell how bad you are despite your blocked sinuses, you don’t have an iota of energy to move. Obviously you’ve caught the flu that was going around town - some idiot must’ve had it on the train. You’ve already rainchecked your movie day with a couple of girlfriends and you really wish your boyfriend was here to sass and coddle you. But, alas the life of an idol meant he was booked back to back with variety schedules from the come down of BSS’s most recent comeback last month. Sure he would be a little less public soon, but that meant it was the cycle building up to a Seventeen comeback - recording, dance practice, fittings. You needed to stop thinking, it was hurting your head.

You roll over on the sofa to change the channel to a nice mindless cooking show, something you didn’t have to listen to, only hear. Hmm, sure that made sense. You groan loudly for yourself. You hate being sick.

It’s sundown and you’ve made some ramen you didn’t want and a bottle of water on the coffee table next to the myriad of syrups and pills to combat illness. You are in a blanket-burrito position, comfortable but not happy. You tip your head up but nothing else when the keypad beeps and the door opens unexpectedly.

“Baby, I’m home! Surprise, the schedule finished up earlier than I thought and - oh my! What happened?” He gapes, backpack in one hand, takeout bags in the other.

Seungkwan slings them up on your kitchen bench and wades over to you. The back of his hand presses to your forehead before raking your hair from your face. Instantly you’re in pout-mode. You knew how much of a baby you were when you were sick. If anyone else acted the way you did, you’d have told them to rub some dirt in it and get it together. So you kept quiet over text - it helped his days were so packed to say much.

“Flu. I’ve been sick for like the last 2 or 3 days and I hate it.” You whine, raspy and clogged. “I didn't think you would be coming by. No trouble.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You know I would have dropped it all to come by to take care of you.” He frowns, cradling your cheek with a smooth palm.

You burrow deeper and shake your head. “You’re busy. I’m being a baby about this.”

His bottom lip juts out and he reaches for you to wrestle you out of your blanket and hold you up by your armpits like a stubborn kitten. “Don’t be silly. I’m never too busy for you, my baby. Don’t try to be some hero and keep quiet about it - don’t hide it.” His scolding, nagging tone softens as your head droops and your eyes turn glassy. “C’mon now, up you get. I’m here now. Let’s take care of you, hmm? Get you in the shower - the steam will help your sinuses.”

He guides you down your own hallway and plops you on the toilet seat with the lid down while he starts up the shower, darting his hand under the spray to test the temperature. You slouch, leaning your head on the bathroom bench unable to combat the weight it adds. You’re just too tired. When he’s satisfied, shaking his fringe from his face he helps you undress and briefly brushes your hair, knowing you prefer to do so to prevent any extra knots when you come out. You whine wordlessly aloud for no reason but discontent and step in. Seungkwan nods resolute, ducking to press a quick kiss to your bare shoulder.

“Okay I’ll come back in with a fresh set of pajamas and we’ll dry your hair too. I’m gonna clean up out here.” He says softly. You turn to protest but he shuts his eyes and tips his chin away from you. “Ah! None of that. Keep the door open in case you feel faint. Let me take care of you, remember?”

He’s right - the steam eases the weight and ache in your face and you even turn the heat up some more to scalding, putting your face directly under to warm and dislodge it further. At one point, he slips back in, laying out a fresh set of towels and your matching Sanrio sweatpants and sweatshirt. Finally you turn the water off and dry off, violently blowing your nose with a frustrated groan. Everything about this sucked. Well, almost everything.

Now he’s back in, with one of your kitchen stools and your hairdryer. He smiles, molten and honeyed.

“Hey baby, feel better?”

Seungkwan’s nagging is over - he seems to have called it off on you in pity.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Oh good. Sit and we’ll dry your hair. Then it’s soup, medicine and rest.” He’s very no nonsense about it all and you can’t help but roll your eyes and smile.

The warm air is amazing but you’re still pretty much limbless, standing for so long under the shower spray wearing you out. He catches your eye in the mirror and nudges your shoulder to lean back on his hip.

“Rest, lean on me. I’ll work around you.”

So you shut your eyes and droop your cheek to his waiting palm. You wished the hairdryer wasn’t so loud - you really wanted to hear about his day. Really, you just wanted to hear his voice warm, melodic and animated. He could talk about fishing or astrophysics and you’d listen.

When the air is too scalding against your neck and your hair lighter, Seungkwan switches it off. Your cheek is still in his hand and he laughs fondly.

“Hey, do you have the effort to do a little skincare? You’ll break out otherwise.” He says, light as a feather.

You hum and nod again, an effort to sit up properly. “Together?” You pout.

Seungkwan dramatically rolls his eyes. “Oh the effort - of course, honey.”

He leans down over the sink next to you to quickly wash and cleanse his face, getting the concoction and water on his dark shirt in droplets. Then it’s a gentle drip and dab of serum. Night cream, the pads of his fingers sweeping lightly and finally your eye cream, the cool metal roller a soothing massage on your nose bridge and under eye. He’s quick with his, but not haphazard. Every step done with care and precision even as he lets each serum and tonic soak and set. You can’t help but sigh and stare for a little too long, lovingly. You reach to rest your arm across the small of his back over his navy tee, fingers swirling absent patterns over the soft cotton. He perks up at that, twisting to eye you.

“Hmm?”

You shake your head and smile. “Just you.”

Skincare complete, he slides you off the stool to pick it up, following after you back to the sofa.

Most nights, except Thursday, Friday and Saturday, both you and Seungkwan agreed to always eat meals at the dining table. Yours was pissy and small, lacquer dented and scratched - his large and sleek, something befitting the clean, spacious place he and Jeonghan lived in. It was a way to make a little routine and be a bit more put together. But tonight it was sofa-dinner. There was another blanket from your linen cupboard draped over the arm of the sofa. A trash bin, new bottle of water and a myriad of vitamins and medicine on the coffee table. He settles you down and bundles you up in one of your faux-furry throw blankets.

He frowns and holds up your half a roll of toilet paper. “Why was this on the coffee table?”

You cringe. “I - well I sort of ran out of tissues first day in and couldn’t be bothered going or ordering any more.”

“No wonder your nose is all red! You’re rubbing it raw!” He scolds you. “I’ll get you settled then go to the convenience store.”

You cry out and whine, reaching for him. “I’ll be okay. Just, please stay for a little bit.”

Seungkwan concedes, fussing and wrapping you a little tighter in your throw blanket.

“Fine, but I will be going out soon to get you some fruits and tissues. I pulled that soup out of your freezer since I didn’t know you weren’t well - it’s warming up over your cooktop.” He says soft yet brisk.

You’re back in pout mode and nod. “Thank you, ‘Kwan.”

Again he sighs and squeezes you, dropping a multitude of kisses into your freshly washed hair. You’re more at ease than you have been in days, fuzzy and clean. He reaches for the remote to change it to another food channel, the better of the two for this time of night, instead of the news like usual.

“Take your medicine while I go check on your soup.” Seungkwan murmurs, twirling a strand of your hair as he pulls away.

“Then tell me about your day?” You ask in a small voice.

He stops to turn and smile like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. A smile so warm and hazy you’re sure it might burn.

“If that’s what you want, of course.”

Goodness, you loved him.

#kbookshelf #seventeen fic #svt fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagine #svt imagine #seventeen x reader #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan fic #seungkwan scenario #seungkwan imagines #written

96 notes · View notes

soombee · 6 months ago

Text

༄｡° as autumn leaves start to fall.. 🍂 ࿔*:･ﾟ

yang jungwon as your boyfriend (spooky szn edi!) ᡣ𐭩·⁀ ༄

ᯓ notes: dreaming about these dates rn cus SOMEONE has to study for state testing and is too busy studying to go on dates w me so i will live these dreams out through friends and fics 😓

ᯓ wordcount: 1515 / 1.5k words

oh, and, fic playlist here -> autumn

1.) Pumpkin Carving 🎃🍂

golden hour — jungwon’s house

as you two lay out a comfy setup in the backyard: a soft, miffy blankets, fairy lights casting a warm glow, and two steaming cups of hot cocoa by your side. you two are surrounded by a selection of imperfect pumpkins you picked out together this morning, each one varying sizes and maybe a little lopsided. you scan the pumpkins, making sure to pick out the best one. after what jungwon describes as “an eternity,” you finally pick one that’s a bit dented on the back side while jungwon goes for the biggest, determined to create a masterpiece you’d surely love

you settle in and begin carving, laughing as pumpkin guts and seeds fly everywhere

jw: “euughh, digging in these pumpkins feels so nasty…” he says, immaturity filling his mind

yn: “you’re nastyyyy!!” you hit his side with your elbow, careful not to get any pumpkin slime on him

jungwon chuckles, getting back to being focused and careful as he starts tracing out his design. you try to take a peak at his design but jungwon hastily hides it from you, pulling the pumpkin closer to his chest

“no peeking”

you scoff, “i bet mine’s prettier”

jungwon raises his eyebrow, “yeah? we’ll see abt that when we show each other” he sounds oddly confident, it pissed you off (as a joke)

yn: “awfully cocky for a guy who failed middle school art” the atmosphere became quiet as you two start to get serious about this “competition”

. ࣪⭑ 🍂⊹ . ݁🎃࣪ . ⭑

meanwhile, you were trying to carve a cute snoopy outline but ended up with something slightly wonky, making jungwon laugh even harder

“i thought you said no peeking!” you defend with a giggle, tossing a handful of pumpkin seeds his way

jungwon gasps dramatically, pretending to shield his masterpiece from your seedy attack

45 minutes later — sundown

as you continue carving, the sun dips below the horizon, and the twinkling lights around you make everything feel warm and magical, like it as a disney film

jungwon quietly carves a tiny pumpkin, glancing at you with a soft smile before revealing it with a grin — it’s carved with your initials and a little heart

your cheeks turn pink, you can’t help but tease him about it, even though u secretly loved his romantic gesture

“u want me so bad, jungwon”

“pfft, you’re one to speak” he rolls his eyes playfully at your bad joke

finally, (several pumpkins later…), you finally made a perfect snoopy and woodstock carving. you light little candle inside your pumpkin, getting up and stepping back to admire your creation

“damn, for 12 pumpkins, that’s actually really cute” jw exclaims as he looks at his surroundings, which is filled with pumpkin guts and seeds

“show me urs then!” you defend your mess, “bet it’s a real halloween masterpiece”

“hmmm, don’t get too scared then, yeah?” he turns his pumpkin around, revealing the cutest surprise

the words ‘will you be my gf?’ carved into the middle

“you’ve made me the happiest i’ve ever been these past few weeks, yn,” he gets up and grabs a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind the rose bushes, “will you do me the honor of being my one and only girl?”

you hold on to his shaky hands, attempting to stabilize them, “holy shit jungwon,” you look up at him with teary eyes

he wipes away your tears, “wait are you oka—”

you cut him off with a peck on the lips, “i’d be delighted to be your girlfriend” you pull away as your other hand finds his cheek

jungwon’s eyes widen in excitement, “told u mine was better” he pulls you in for a warm hug, kissing the top of your head

with the crisp fall air around you two, candles flickering, soulful music, and laughter filling the night, it was a perfect autumn memory, one you will always remember

2.) Haunted Mansion 🪓

09:43 pm — haunted mansion

after a 4 minute walk from the parking lot, you and jungwon were greeted by flickering lanterns casting eerie shadows on the stone walls of a nearby fence. fog drifting around you and ghostly sounds echoing through the air, you both try to act brave, but your heart is racing a little faster than usual.

jungwon, hearing your heart beat out of your chest, brushes his hand against yours, causing you to jump

“jungwon!” you place your hand on your heart

he giggles, “i swear i didn’t mean to scare u! i was trying to hold your hand, trust me” he watches you roll your eyes

he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “dont worry,” he rubs your upper arm, “im here to protect you —unless it’s a monster — then we’re both running..” you giggle at his playful demeanor, knowing you’re about to be entering the biggest mistake of your life

you two enter the mansion, hallways dimly lit with only an occasional flash of light and haunting noises seeping from every corner. the suspense is getting to you, and with each creak of the floor, you cling a little tighter to jungwon’s arm, practically bruising him. he tries to lighten the mood, cracking silly jokes and attempting to scare you first from here and there but a well timed ‘boo’ from a hidden actor jumpscares you both

jungwon lets out a small yelp, sending you into fits of laughter in the middle of the hallway

you make your way into a room of mirrors, where your reflections are warped and ghostly, occasionally seeing a fake actor behind your reflection. you laugh at jungwons exaggeratedly frightened face, only to shriek when a real zombie actor suddenly appears behind you in the mirror, making you both bolt towards the exit, laughing and breathless, still holding your sweaty hands

finally out of the maze of hallways, you both pause to catch your breaths, cheeks flushed from the thrill

“i can’t wait to do this again next year” jungwon looks at your reddened face and tired expression, how can one be so cute..

“no.” you pat his cheek, knowing damn well this was going to be an annual date

3.) lazy day-te 🤍

sleepover — yn’s house

the living room is bathed in a cozy warm glow, halloween lamps twinkling along the house, the spooky decorations jungwon surprised you with adding a festive touch. you and jungwon matching minion onesies, him being the crazy purple one of course

the evening begins in the kitchen, youve been sending jungwon tiktoks about the infamous pumpkin bagels, unfortunately located across the country so jw had the lovely idea of making it in the comfort of (basically) his own home.

first, flour. you try to carefully scoop one cup into the mixing bowl, but jungwon decides to be extra dramatic. he grabs a handful and releases it from high above, creating a cloud of flour that drifts straight into your hair

“jungwon!” you protest, brushing flour from your face with a pout, while he laughs, wiping a bit of flour from his own cheek, “you’re so annoying—“

he cuts you off with a kiss, carefully deepening it by grabbing your nape. his tongue hesitantly licking your bottom lip, asking for an entrance. you part your lips, allowing his tongue to slip in.

“better now?” he pulls away from the kiss, catching for breath.

you punch his stomach lightly, “you’re so bad, won”

he giggles as he goes back in for seconds

after making the batter — 39 minutes later

you two finally put the bagels in the oven, “finally,” you stretch, “would’ve been faster if u werent here” u squish his cheeks, which are — in fact — softer than a baby’s butt

“it’s more fun when i’m with you” — jw.

“more like suffering” — yn.

while the bagels bake, you and jungwon spent the next hour talking about random topics — life, feelings, new discoveries, etc. — and flirting.. (yuckyyy)

*ding*

the timer on the oven beeps, cutting through your convo. you both turn towards the kitchen, the sound appealing to your delightful distraction. “they’re done!!”

jungwon grabs your wrist playfully, pulling you back down as he gets up

“race u there”

“no fair, cheater!!” you quickly get up but, to no surprise, he’s already in front of the oven

“slow poke” he teased as you poke your tongue out at him

standing side by side at the oven, you both lean in, the warmth flowing up to greet you. the bagels are bright orange, their shapes accurate resembling wonky pumpkins

“they’re so cuteee!” you take your phone out and start taking pictures of these miniature pumpkins

“just like you” jungwon mumbles to himself as he stares at you in awe

as he pulls the tray out, the laughter and playful banter continue, but beneath it all, there’s a warmth growing between your relationship, one that feels just as satisfying as the freshly baked bagels waiting to be enjoyed by two people who deeply love each other

i wish men knew what women wanted without having to ask for it 😓 #HopelesslyRomantic #FrickMen #WhoWantMe

#soo0mi #enhypen #jungwon #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon x yn #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #halloween #spooky season

119 notes · View notes

moody-alcoholic · 9 months ago

Text

Epilogue

It's over so here is my opportunity for a quick TED talk.

I do have idea's for some one shots in the future, so the fic won't be 'finished' but the main story is. I am also very much open to suggestions.

For now though this is the end for this fic. I want to say thank you to everyone who loved the story and followed it. To all the people who binge read it in one night. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I want to give a special thank you to @void-my-warranty for inspiring me through her work to bite the bullet and write a smut fic. If I was to dedicate this work to anyone it would be her. Thank you <3

I will write more Ghoap x reader in the future but for now I’m shifting my focus to my other work and the upcoming Johnny x Simon fic I have been working on. I always strive to improve with every work I put out there, so if you like this check out my other works they’re all a little different.

If you want more Ghoap stuff I will leave some recommendations here, there are so many talented authors out there who deserve way more love then me so go forth and enjoy!

Recommendations. A Dichotomy of Thought - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Harmless Fun - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Sundowning - losersimonriley Simon x Johnny Service Dog Johnny - void-my-warranty Ghost/Fem Reader/Soap ——————————

Summary: . Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. CW: Mentions of suicide, grieving, mentions of death.

Previous parts - masterlist - Back to the start

Enjoy <3

6 months later

You’re surprised to see Johnny is waiting for you as you exit the hospital after your shift. You throw yourself in his arms.

“I thought you weren't back till Friday?” You say kissing him.

“Price got us on an earlier flight, thought I would come and surprise you.” He says wrapping his arm round your waist.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask looking around.

“Debrief, boring admin work, he’ll be back later.” Johnny says as you walk with him.

“That mean we’ve got the flat to ourselves?” You nudge him as he leads you to the car. He chuckles.

“How’s civilian life treating you?” He asks as you both get in. You quit the military a few weeks after what happened with Jack. Price managed to pull some strings and get you honourably discharged. You joined the reserves, it felt right, keeping just a little connection. You got your old job back at the hospital, the same one you and Chloe worked in. It was nice to see old faces, and new ones too.

“You know, same old same old. We planted that tree for Chloe. You should have been there it was lovely.” You say suddenly feeling sad. You rallied with the people from A&E who worked with Chloe and you all sponsored a tree for the patients garden.

Her family gave you her ashes. They just turned up on your door one day. You had them made into a rock, then placed it under the tree. You don’t know if that’s what she would have wanted but it felt right. Johnny’s hand rests on your thigh.

“What about you, you must have more interesting stories then the ones I have from working 12 hours in A&E.” You say smiling and pushing the tears away.

“Ah yes, we’ve had some adventures I’ll give you that love.” Johnny says as you drive out the car park. You let him talk the whole way, it had been a week since you’d seen them and you were desperate to spend time with them again. When you make it into the flat Simon is there.

“Thought you wouldn’t be back till late?” Johnny asked as you run into his arms.

“Price said he could handle it.” Simon says before you plant your lips on his.

“How’s civilian life?” Simon asks, you roll your eyes.

“They planted the tree for Chloe.” Johnny says from the kitchen.

“Yeah, how’d it go?” He asks, looking at you.

“Good, I think she would have liked it.” You reply. Simon nods leading you over to the sofa as Johnny comes over with a bottle of wine and wine glasses. You cuddle up next to Simon as Johnny pours the glasses.

“What’s the latest with the Masons?” You ask. You hadn’t been keeping up with it but Simon and Johnny’s had, they’d been watching them like hawks.

“They’re in court on Monday, we’ll know more then.” Simon says. It took a month or so but finally people were formally arrested. Almost every family member who was in the military had been dishonourably discharged, and there were even talks of the Americans getting involved and also prosecuting the family.

You were warned you would need to go to court to testify, but you didn’t care. Jack killed himself, left a suicide note, seems the family was planning on pushing all the blame on him so they could try and get away with it. His note was pretty damming, it’s been big part of why they were able to get so many of his family.

They’ll lose their house, businesses everything. Most of them are looking at life in prison. You didn’t want to smile but it was good, justice and you would never have to worry about them again. You feel Johnny pull your legs up on him scooting over to sit closer to Simon. It reminded you of the first night you stayed in their flat. A bottle of wine and shitty police chaser shows.

“I reckon e’ll make it.” Johnny says sipping the wine. You turn to look at him smiling.

“Don’t be silly Johnny.” Simon scoffs. You look up at Simon.

"I bet he makes it." You smile looking back at the TV. Simon kisses the top of your head. You were glad they were back and back safe.

"I love you." You mumble as you hug Simon.

"Love you too." He says as Johnny's hand strokes your back. You look over at the TV. They caught the guy.

218 notes · View notes

fyodior · 1 year ago

Text

TIDAL TEMPTATIONS. - chapter i

༄ pairing: merman!fyodor x afab reader

༄ cw: sfw (for now), non-gory descriptions of and treatment of stab wounds to fyodor, very brief mentions of blood. not intended to be medically accurate, treat ur stab wounds as you wish

༄ notes: hello :) welcome to my first multi-chapter fic! this has been a work in progress for some time, and im quite nervous abt posting this first part so be nice pls <3 just as a note, fyodor is referred to exclusively as he/him until reader names him next chapter (he can't speak human language yet) enjoy!

༄ wc: 4k

Since moving to a beachside village after spending your whole life in a landlocked town, your mother had outlined ample, strict rules regarding the sea.

Rule 1: No venturing out past sundown.

This was the rule you broke on an almost nightly basis. Your mother was quite the early riser, meaning she often was out cold before the fireflies had even begun flashing yellow and green. It was far too easy to slip out the back door with a flashlight, barefoot to keep your footsteps silent as possible. There was no feeling more serene than dawdling down the shore, mushy sand between your toes and waves lapping at your ankles as the salty breeze curled around you. It was pitch black save for the bioluminescent creatures that washed up on the shore and the pale glow emanating from your flashlight, and it was comforting. While many feared darkness, you found solace in its embrace.

Rule 2: No swimming past the sandbar.

Also a frequently broken rule. You found it to be far too restrictive, as the sandbar was only a dozen meters from the shore. No fish could be found that shallow, and it was much easier for crabs to nip at you when you were that close to the sandy floor. Being out deeper, where the gentle waves tousled and hugged you, was where you felt the most at home.

Rule 3: No fraternizing with sea beings.

That’s the name that had been put in place for entities that straddled the line of human and creature. Some believed they were even the missing link. Very little was known about sea beings, mostly due to the universal fear of them. They often had unsettling, bone-chilling appearances and never appeared to be overly friendly to humans, so a firm boundary was set. You must never approach a sea being.

All three of these rules were broken the night you met him.

Well, you assumed it was a “him”. He had a flat chest and sharp, masculine features, but he wasn’t human. His human-esque appearance terminated at his hips, where pale, nearly translucent skin tapered into onyx black scales, flowing into a sleek, obscenely long tail. His fluke, also inky black, was reminiscent of a betta fish’s frail fins, flowy with spindly edges, yet fanned strong against the current.

That was all you were able to see of him, at first. You had swam out well past the sandbar one night, flashlight in hand as you dove past the waves, your beam suddenly illuminating his form. He remained very still, head tilting as you made eye contact, as if he was observing you. And he was – he had heard the unmistakable sound of a human swimming, a somewhat ungraceful, clumsy affair, and followed it. Typically, when he sensed humans in the water, he would jet in the other direction – humans didn’t treat him kindly, and he had the scars to prove it. But there was something… different about you. A sweeter scent and a gentler aura. And he was curious - so instead of making a beeline towards his cove when he sensed your presence in the water, he swam closer.

He was immediately enamored by you. You were much softer and merciful, and he didn’t sense a single bad intention. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t uneasy. The only interactions he’d ever had with humans were traumatic, and other than appearances, he had no way of knowing you were any different. Claws bared, fangs ready, and tail already swishing, he was prepared for fight or flight – though he remained, just watching you. And you the same. It was drilled into your head, the second you spotted a sea being, swim as fast as possible towards the shore and never look back. There were a handful of reports of villagers being attacked by sea beings and barely making it out alive, and one case of a child who didn’t. Their presence was not to be taken lightly.

Yet, for some reason, both of you just… watched.

Watched and waited for the other to make a move - to attack. He thought it was surely any second until you unveiled a spear from behind your back to impale him, and you were just waiting to be torn to shreds by those claws. But nothing ever happened. You held his gaze and he held yours, studying the other.

Just as fascinated as you were by him, he was utterly fascinated by you. He had never gotten this close to a human before, not by his own volition anyway, and he had never truly seen one this plainly. It was easy to tell that you looked similar to him from the top up, but the bottom down was a completely different story. Where he was used to fish tails, scales, and fins, you wore two fleshy, stick-like protrusions that only bent in two places. No wonder humans were so terrible at swimming. He briefly wondered if there was anything between them.

It wasn’t long before you ran out of air and had to break the surface, but when you dove back down, he was gone. You felt a slight sense of relief that he hadn’t been staking you out as prey, but also a pang of sorrow as you realized you’d likely never see him again. What you didn’t know is that he hadn’t gone far, just hid behind a formation of rocks as he watched you dejectedly swim back to the shore. It was a foreign experience – he’d never seen a human… disappointed about escaping from him.

As you snuck back into bed and drifted off that night, you found yourself gilled and fanged, finding home amongst the waves.

You didn’t see him for a while after that. Despite you returning to the same spot from that fateful night every day, marked by an especially large horseshoe crab shell, he was never there. It became part of your daily routine to venture to that spot, a backpack full of books, snacks, and water, and lay out on a towel as the sun drifted through the sky.

It was never quite clear to you what you were waiting for, though. What would you even do if he reappeared? You couldn’t converse, neither of you could go to the other’s homes, what was to be gained from seeing him again? You never quite answered that question – all you knew was that you just had to see him again. At least one more time.

Things started to look bleak as days turned into weeks. Your mother wasn’t happy with you spending nearly every waking second on the beach. She could never find out why either, as she’d likely ban you from stepping foot on the sand ever again. And you even had started to think that maybe you had dreamt it – no way you just happened to run into a breathtakingly beautiful merman-type sea being who didn’t try to attack you. That just didn’t happen.

This… creature, you just couldn’t get him out of your head. He had found his way onto almost every page of your sketchbook, finding new life in graphite, pastels, and watercolors. The inky black tail swirled long and curled on itself on the page, as you occasionally took creative liberties on his appearance.

Stories of him and your sure-to-happen future rendezvouses began popping up in your diary too - and not just him as a sea creature. You waxed poetic about what he might look like as a full-fledged human, with legs and without fangs. He’d surely be kind and gentlemanly, charming and funny with a deep voice and proper human language. He’d be well spoken and smart, and everything you’d ever dreamed of.

If he ever showed up again. And it wasn’t looking like he would. Until he did.

On a night where you hadn’t even been on the lookout for him, were just dragging your feet through wet sand and shells when you spotted a dark form curled up on the shore. The moon was but a sliver barely cutting through dense clouds, compromising your vision, but something convinced you to jog that way anyway.

And it was him. The tide that lapped at the sand jostled his barely conscious body, threatening to pull him back out towards the darkness. You gasped as you ran and fell to your knees next to him, immediately recognizing the onyx tail with the delicate fins and opalescent skin. Except this time his back was riddled with what appeared to be stab wounds – they were likely a few hours old, no longer gushing blood, but still deep, unhealed gashes that needed to be treated.

“Are- are you okay?” you stupidly asked – as if he was conscious or human enough to answer that question.

When he didn’t respond, you shifted to sit with your legs crossed and pulled his head into your lap, brushing his salt-crusted hair out of his eyes. His large eyes fluttered open at the stimulus, a glowing violet gaze shifting to meet yours.

“Hi,” you whispered, laughing lightly. “I had wanted us to meet again, but not like this.” You had assumed he didn’t understand human language, but the way he only stared at you blankly confirmed this belief.

Anxiety and panic started to bubble up inside you as you absorbed the situation but did your best to ignore it. Swift, calm action needed to be taken if he was to be saved. You shifted your gaze to better assess his injuries and counted five different gashes where he had clearly been stabbed with some sort of weapon – it certainly wasn’t something that had happened naturally. The shape of the wounds was reminiscent of those a fishing harpoon would create, and your face fell as you pieced together what likely happened. Existing in his own territory, he probably swam too close to a fishing boat and spooked the fishermen, prompting them to overreact and attack the harmless creature.

You brought a careful finger to trace along the edges of the wounds, making him jump and hiss, thrashing in your hold as he groaned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you gasped, your hands immediately flying away. “I’m gonna, um…” you thought for a second. You knew you had medicine and gauze back home, but he was just going to have to go right back in the water, right? It surely was better than nothing…

You slowly started to wiggle out of his grip. “I’m gonna be right back, okay? I need to get supplies to make you better,” you explained slowly, gesturing towards his wounds. He only cocked his head and furrowed his brows. Fuck. He wasn’t going to understand a word you said.

With a grimace, you gently held his head in your hands as you scooted away, slowly laying it back down on the sand. You stood to head back to your house, but the creature suddenly began groaning and crying out, reaching a shaky arm towards you. He was clearly distressed over you abandoning him.

“Hey, hey! I’ll be right back, I swear,” you soothed, crouching down next to him, and gripping his hand. It killed you to have to leave him like this, terrified you might return to either find him dead or washed back out to sea, but you couldn’t just do nothing at all.

You wracked your brain trying to think of a way to communicate to him that you’d be back when words weren’t an option. Grabbing your backpack, you anxiously rummaged through it for some semblance of an idea, all the while he moaned and groaned in pain. Some sort of keepsake you could somehow communicate had value, almost like collateral. Something to say, this is special, proof I’ll be back. As fate would have it, you had decided to do a deep clean of your bag that morning, so you were coming up pretty dry.

The only thing you could think of was an old copy of your favorite book you always carried on you, Crime and Punishment. Mother always teased you for a depressing, old Russian novel being your comfort book, but you never let it phase you. Pulling it out of your backpack, you stared at the old, tattered cover with the faded title, and hoped to god he could make sense of it – that you were trusting him with something that meant a lot to you. There wasn’t much else you could do.

You tucked it under his arm splayed out on the sand, making sure he noticed what you were doing. Petting his hair, you looked him deep in the eyes as you enunciated one more time: I’ll be right back.

Panic coursed through your veins as you clambered to your feet and ran back to your house. The light of your flashlight was nearly useless as you trembled with fear, tripping over shells and driftwood to the point where your feet were probably going to need some treatment too.

The next hurdle in your way as you reached your house was remaining quiet enough so as not to wake your mother – there was no way to explain your way out of frantically searching for medical supplies to run back out with in the middle of the night. When you weren’t even supposed to be out in the first place.

To minimize the amount of time you even had to be away, you just threw anything you could find in the cabinets into your bag, hoping it would be sufficient enough. Though you stopped in front of the mirror as you passed it, staring at your sweaty and distressed appearance, and took a second to wonder what the hell you were doing. Going out of your way to save a potentially homicidal sea being? Those stabbings may have been damn well deserved. He could somehow be manipulating your kindness for… something. You couldn’t even think of what.

You decided it wasn’t even worth fretting about – you had to get your book back anyway.

The trip back to your anxiously awaiting patient felt a million times longer than the trip home, with every step of your bloody feet reminding you that there may be no one – nothing – to come back to. The sea was a place of peace, but cruel and unforgiving. Your prayers were answered as your flashlight once again illuminated his crumpled body, barely conscious but still clinging on to your (soaking wet and likely ruined) book.

A relieved smile illuminated your face as you fell to his side once again, partially burying the flashlight into the sand so it stood upright to act as a lamp.

“You’re – still here,” you smiled, taking a deep breath. You almost said you’re okay, but that wasn’t quite true, yet.

His clawed hand trembled as it reached out for you, the stretch of his fingers revealing the black webbing in between them. You grasped it back tightly and intertwined your fingers together, squeezing. “I’m here, okay?” He offered you the tiniest smile, but immediately dropped it, the miniscule energy it required taking a toll on his wasting body.

The first thing you did was unfurl a massive, striped beach towel you found shoved in the back of a linen closet onto the sand before hooking your elbows under his underarms and dragging him onto it. It was nearly impossible, his entire body essentially dead weight at that point, but you wanted to get him off the dirty sand – and this was the closest thing you could get to a sterile field.

Dumping the contents of your bag onto the towel next to him, you parsed through it trying to figure out some sort of plan of action. You tried to keep the panic at bay as the thought that none of this was sufficient for anything worse than a superficial cut nagged at you. It was this or nothing.

The first thing mother always told you to do for wounds: clean it. A wave of dread washed over you as you pulled out the bottle of rubbing alcohol, your eyes flitting from it to the gaping wounds in his back. The way he looked at you with terrified, leaky eyes, aware that his entire life was in your hands right then, shattered your heart. You almost wished he was unconscious.

Grabbing a washcloth, he watched as you soaked it with rubbing alcohol, his nose scrunching at the offensive smell. Touching his cheek, you tried to smile as he met your eyes. “This is gonna hurt really – really – bad,” you grimaced. He just stared at you, emotionless, until the rag touched the first wound.

As soon as the liquid came into contact with the broken skin, he let out a horrific, inhuman screech that had you dropping the washcloth to cover your ears. His claws tore ragged holes in the towel as he gripped it, panting and writhing in pain. You couldn’t help but cry too. “I’m so, so sorry,” you continually repeated, abandoning the cloth to lay down next to him. Tears streamed down his face and soaked the towel underneath him, barely even acknowledging the way you wiped them away with trembling fingers.

Despite how much you preferred to just lie with him under the glow of the moon and the melody of the waves, you knew what had to be done. Death was worse than temporary pain – there had to be part of him somewhere that understood that. You hoped it would be better now that he was expecting it.

Slowly sitting back up, you grabbed the rag once more and wrung it out to reduce it to only the minimum amount of antiseptic required, and tried to ignore the way he quivered and shook his head. I’m sorry felt like a shitty spell as you chanted it over and over again, though the screeches became easier to tune out as they rang on. You were surprised his vocal cords didn’t fry.

After what felt like an eternity for both of you, you had finally managed to clean out the wounds and remove some of the dried blood that clung to his skin. The towel was torn to shreds and the veins in his eyes were blown with how much he had been thrashing and sobbing. But the worst of it was over now.

“We’re almost done,” you soothed as you gently applied the triple-antibiotic cream you knew was only meant for minor cuts to the gaping stab wounds. Once they were packed with gauze, you sat back with a huff to survey your handiwork. Sloppy and a bit haphazard but… better than nothing. And having the wounds covered seemed to have helped him calm down a little bit. One last thing crossed your mind though – how could you potentially make the dressings waterproof?

Your eyes flitted over to a slew of seaweed on the shore that reflected the moonlight and figured you might as well try. With some gentle and minorly excruciating maneuvering, you managed to wrap a few thick strands of seaweed around his torso to maybe keep the dressings in place, and protect them from water immediately seeping in.

Falling back onto the towel that was mostly just threads at that point, you sighed. Thoughts of what the fuck am I doing? carved their way into every square inch of your skull. Why am I playing doctor for… whatever he- it is? Why do I care?

The sun began to peak up over the horizon, signaling that it was likely around 5 AM at that point. A groan left your lips as you realized you were going to have to leave soon if you wanted to make it home before Mother awoke, but then remembered you had company. Turning your head, you inspected his body. This was your first time seeing him on land in the approaching daylight.

He only watched you as you observed him. He was… mesmerizing. Flowing from the nape of his neck to both of his wrists, swirls of smoky black pigmentation decorated his skin, while both of his hands and claws were solid black. His – admittedly stunning – face was mostly human-like, save for his slightly larger, glowing violet eyes with slits for pupils. And you had found out he had fangs when he kept hissing in pain. His hair was jet black and flowed just past his shoulders, flecked with salt and sand, that obscured the dark gills on either side of his neck. With only the pitiful light of dawn, you couldn’t make out much of his inky tail, only that it was quite long, and lined with multiple flowing side fins that resembled the fluke.

The waterproof digital watch on your wrist began to beep erratically, making the poor creature jump in fear. Shit. The morning alarm your mother had punched into it.

“I have to leave, I’m so sorry.”

Seemingly starting to recognize the sounds of leave and sorry, his already sad expression wilted even more.

“I’ll be back, okay?” you nodded, enunciating each word clearly. “And you probably need to get back in the water, so you don’t dry out.”

The elongated amount of time outside of the water seemed to have made his tail shrivel slightly, the pointed scales more prominent than they were before. Or maybe that was just the sun rising. Either way, you were at least somewhat certain he needed to be rehydrated.

Standing up on your feet, you dusted off some of the sand that now clung to every inch of you and crossed your arms. The tip of your tongue poked out of your lips slightly as you tried to conjure up a plan of how to get him back in the water. Considering the fact that he wasn’t just pure dead weight anymore, it couldn’t be too bad. But the fresh stab wounds were the main barrier here.

“Alright. We’re getting you back in,” you announced, as if you had some position of authority. He just cocked his head and flared his gills.

With time running out, you decided the best bet was just to use the towel to drag his body the couple of meters back towards the water, and rely on the tide to hopefully aid in easing him back in. It was a deliberate choice to ignore his snarls and light thrashing, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

“Stop fighting me, dumbass,” you grunted. Finally, the tide rose high enough to envelop him, allowing him to indignantly flick his tail at you before swimming away.

The trip back to your house was spent fuming as you wondered why the stupid creature was being so damn ungrateful. As if you hadn’t spent hours saving his life. Whatever. Maybe you could give him a piece of your mind when you went to check up on him later that day. What you didn’t understand was that his unwillingness to allow you to leave stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t quite grasp why you were leaving him. What you were leaving him for. And it hurt. He had always been a loner, even amongst his own kind, and you were the only being to ever show him pure kindness. Why would you leave? And would you ever be back?

#fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor imagines #bsd imagines

380 notes · View notes

forsworned · 1 year ago

Note

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't.

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night.

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty smut #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan smut #eventual smut #alternate universe #cod au

273 notes · View notes