#freedom and whisky

[frasers-of-my-heart]

Wednesday 100: Whisky and Pearls

Claire felt the weight of Ellen Mackenzie’s pearls in her fingers. They had been all that Jamie had left of his mother, now they were almost all that Claire had left of him. Just them and Brianna. She could be happy with that couldn’t she? If she went back, who was to say that she would indeed find him? That he would want her to? But Bree was here and she needed her mother. Didn’t she? Claire ran the beads around her hands, gripping so tightly she could feel them marking her skin, making the scar under her thumb tingle.

[theoutlanderevangelist]

3x05 “Freedom & Whisky” | 002

[eyra]

[brian-in-finance]

Video 📹 from Instagram

Remember… I found him. Well... I found an article, written in 1765, in a journal called Forrester’s. It advocates the repeal of the restrictions on the import of spirits to the Scottish Highlands. — Roger MacKenzie, S03E05 Freedom & Whisky

[redvexillum]

Laughter and the warm, heady aroma of rich Cajun spices twirled in the air, wrapping around your senses like a comforting blanket on a crisp Louisiana evening. The slight dip in temperature heralded the arrival of autumn, a season that changed the vibrant landscape into a tapestry of oranges and red. Through the dusty window of Alastor’s cottage, a stark red light from the setting sun streamed in, illuminating the man himself: tall and lanky, with slightly curled brown hair that danced around his ears, and warm brown eyes that sparkled with mischief.  

“My love,” he said, stepping closer, his voice thick as honey and just as sweet. “I must say, I am absolutely ecstatic that you finally decided to join me this time.” 

His proximity stirred a mix of emotion within you, and you wrinkled your nose as a heavy metallic tang pierced the air – a scent so out of place amidst the inviting spices and laughter.  

With a playful smile mirroring his, you leaned in, feigning innocence as you whispered, “You know, it’s a bit challenging to ignore that…unusual bouquet you’ve got going on. What’s that, a new cologne?” 

Alastor chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that never failed to send a shiver down your spine. “Ah, that would be my secret ingredient,” he teased, the corners of his mouth curling into a sly grin. “I’ve always had a penchant for the hunting arts, you see. A little blood adds flavour, don’t you think?” 

You pushed aside the insidious whisper in your mind that noted how this man always seemed to carry an undercurrent of something dark and unsettling beneath his expensive cologne. You glanced over the pile of vibrant, red, raw meat on the counter – a testament to his hunting prowess.  

The meat gleamed under the soft glow of the cottage’s flickering light, an odd sight during these trying times of the Great Depression. But then again, Alastor was a popular radio host, and with fame came a certain indulgence in life’s luxuries.  

“Luxuries indeed,” you murmured under your breath.  

Suddenly, warm hands framed your face, pulling your gaze into the depths of Alastor’s whisky-brown eyes. His devilish, charming smile ignited a warmth in your heart that spread like a wildfire. At that moment, you were captivated by a man you knew you were forbidden to love.  

He was a man whose world was miles apart from your own.  

Yet… 

Yet, here you were, hidden among the thick, twisting trees of the bayou, far from prying eyes. Here, perhaps, the love that others labelled as deranged might find a place to breathe freely.  

Looking at him, a weight of guilt squeezed your heart. "I’m sorry I kept cancelling at the last minute, Alastor, I –" you began, your voice trembling with the heavy, suffocating shroud of unspoken truths. But before you could finish, his gentle finger pressed against your lips, absolving of your crime of almost abandoning him.  

“It’s quite alright, my dear,” he replied, his voice smooth like dark chocolate, rich, thick, and silky.  

Your words of further apologies were lodged inside your throat. No matter what you said to him next, it wouldn’t change the truth of your current situation.  

You and him had different social standings, but moreover, there was the looming shadow of your engagement to another man, the one your parents had chosen for you. The one who was, by all appearances, a good match, a respectable future governor.  

“Let’s just enjoy this moment, just the two of us, darling,” he said, his voice resonating like the warmest notes of a jazz melody. He was truly born to be a radio host, whose words could make even the most stoic hearts flutter – if only they could overlook the darker undertone of his physical attributes.  

Reaching up, you clasped your hand around his, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his inviting palm. It felt like a small rebelling against the world, against your parents, a taste of freedom, a taste of love you longed for – hungeredfor.  

“Okay,” you murmured, inhaling deeply, the earthy scent of the bayou mingling with the intoxicating scent of the sharpness of his cologne. You exhaled slowly, releasing the anxiety and guilt that once clung heavily to your heart.  

Just for this moment, you wished to forget about propriety and the expectations of being the perfect wife-to-be. Just for this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be with Alastor, the man who adored you with all his heart, just as you adored him in return.  

“Now,” he said, slipping his hand away from your face and spinning back to the pile of bleeding, red meat. “I’ll handle this, and if you could be so kind as to peel the potatoes, my darling!” His voice was chipper and jovial, a perfect contrast to the weighty atmosphere that usually surrounded you. You watched in admiration as he wielded the knife with a master that only came from years of experience – his fingers moved with precision and confidence.  

Humming in agreement, you reluctantly turned your attention to the bowl of potatoes. Picking one up, you grasped a small knife, its blade glinting under the softer light. You began to peel the rough skin away while suppressing a giggle as you recalled telling Alastor that you’d never been taught how to cook. Alastor had looked at you as if you grew a second head back then.  

But, you had never told Alastor why you weren’t taught how to cook like other proper homemakers. After all, your sole purpose was to be given away like a prized horse to an affluent man. Your only duties were to remain beautiful in his arms and bear his children.  

You quickly pushed away the bitter feelings that crept up your throat and stung your nose. Instead, you focused on the memory of Alastor being shocked at your admission. “We simply cannot have that! I shall schedule us a date where I can track you my favourite recipe – my mother’s jambalaya!” He had said with his eyes twinkling with glee.  

The soft humming of a tune brought you back to the present moment, the sweet melody from Alastor floated through the air. You lost yourself in the rhythmic task of peeling the potatoes, focused on the repetitive motion of the knife gliding through the skin.  

But then, in a moment of distraction, your clumsy fingers slipped. The sharp edge of the knife sliced through your delicate skin with a sudden sting. “Ah!” You yelped, instinctively pulling your hand away as searing pain bloomed from the cut.  

Crimson rivulets flowed quickly down your fingers, staining the pristine white flesh of the potato. Food was a scarce luxury in these times, and you hated the thought of wasting it so carelessly. "I’m so-" you began, but the words faltered as you felt a wave of dizziness washed over you. Seeing blood had always made you feel a bit queasy.  

Alastor turned sharply, concern etching itself into his features. “What happened?” He asked, rushing to your side, the joviality of moments before replaced by urgency.  

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, though the pain pushed with every heartbeat. “Just a little cut.” 

He took your hand gently in his, his warmth enveloping you like a balm against the pain. “Let me see,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a soothing tone, lulling you into a state of momentarily calm.  

“Oh, my!” Alastor’s voice purred, his grin wide, yet his brow furrowed in playful concern. “My little clumsy girl, whatever will I do with you?” He sighed in an exaggerated tone, a mix of teasing and amusement lacing his words.  

You rolled your eyes, exasperated but endeared by his over-the-top theatrics. "Yes, yes, Alastor. I’m quite clumsy. As I’ve told you many times, I’m not exactly well-versed in the art of cooking–" 

Your sentence was cut short by a sharp intake of breath as his hand closed around your wrist, his grip firm but tender. He pulled your injured finger closer to his face. The suddenness of the touch sent a spark of warmth coursing through you, igniting a flush that spread across your skin.  

His eyes darkened, pupils dilated, as he inspected the cut with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Quite a deep cut, indeed,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though the sight of your blood stirred something primal within him. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and the heat of the moment hung thickly in the air between you.   

“Alastor?” You whispered, your voice barely audible, the weight of his attention making it difficult to speak. He had never touched you like this before; usually, it was your hand that sought him, your fingertips that brushed his arm with hesitant affection. This shift in dynamic left you breathless.  

With a slow, deliberate exhale, he pressed your injured finger against his lips. The warmth of his mouth ignited a dizzying mix of sensations. The pain from the cut flared briefly, but was soon overshadowed by the soft pressure of his lips, the tender heat of his breath against your skin. His lips moved, painting themselves crimson with your blood, and your heart raced, overwhelmed by the strange intimacy of it.  

His eyes never left yours as he hummed softly, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through you. His tongue, warm and wet, traced the length of your finger, slow and deliberate, as though savouring every inch of your skin. The soft sounds of his mouth moving over your finger filled the small kitchen, a rhythm that seemed to match the rapid pounding of your heart.  

You gasped when he gently took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling wickedly around it with a slow, languid grace. The mixture of pain and pleasure was dizzying, and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the sigh of him – devouring your finger, alternating between soft, gentle sucks and firmer, more insistent strokes. The sensation was maddening, leaving you teetering between the sharp edge of discomfort and the intoxicating allure of his touch.  

Every flick of his tongue, every caress of his lips, seemed designed to unravel you, to make you surrender to the moment. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, the heat of it enveloping you both, drawing you into a world where status, propriety, expectations all dissolved into nothingness.  

Nothing mattered but the press of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and the undeniable pull that connected you.  

Heat rushed to your cheeks, an overwhelming warmth that left your skin tingling as you watched the once-proper man before you indulged in something so…raw. His moans, barely audible, danced with the soft, wet sounds of his mouth working over your finger. His thick dark lashes brushed against his tanned skin, his expression serene, almost lost in the act. 

“Alastor…” Your voice cracked, surprise and something else – something unfamiliar – swirling low in your stomach, tightening with each passing second. You shouldn’t be feeling this. The intimacy of it was unexpected, almost forbidden, and yet…you couldn’t pull away.  

His eyes snapped open upon hearing your voice, piercing through the haze that had settled over your thoughts. Your finger was still between his lips, slick with warmth. His eyes arrested you as he let your finger slowly slide out of him, agonizingly slow, the wet trail glistening under the flickering amber lights in the kitchen. His hand lingered on your wrist, gentle but firm, holding you there as his gaze traced every detail of your face.  

The familiar grin curled at the corners of his mouth, the same charming showman’s smile you had fallen for, back when you were just another listener entranced by his voice on the radio. But here, now, something was different – darker, more…animalistic. A sense of danger, maybe, or hunger.  

You swallowed, your thoughts in disarray, but you forced yourself to speak, breaking the tension. “I thought we were supposed to be cooking, but…” you paused, feeling the heavy weight of his stare, the heat of his presence. “It looks like you’re ready to devour me instead,” you chuckled, the sound weak, betraying the nervous energy thrumming through you. 

Alastor remained silent, his grin frozen in place as his eyes darkened to near black, absorbing every flicker of light in the room. There was something unsettling about his stillness, the way his expression didn’t quite match the energy that pulsed between you.  

And then, in a voice that barely rose above a whisper – smooth, low, and stripped of the transatlantic accent you were used to – he answered.  

“Perhaps I will.”   

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[artsninspo]

◘ LEGEND ◘ 🌪️ messy | 🧸 fluffy | ❤️‍🩹 angst | 🌶️ spicy |

◕ in progress | ◍ incomplete | ◉ complete

-`♡´- requests open -`♡´-

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short stories

◉ DRINKS

When Rio crosses paths with Ruby's sister-in-law, sparks fly in all the wrong—and right ways. Aloof but intrigued, the reader catches Rio's eye, and what Rio wants, he doesn’t let go of without a fight. Brace yourself for a whirlwind of tension, charm, and unexpected connections as he pushes hard to break through her walls. Are you ready to dive into this rollercoaster of chemistry and chaos?

➨ one - “Baby-Girl”

➨ two- “Whisky, neat”

➨ three - “Jealous type” - 🌶️ 🌪️

➨ four- “Cheers” - 🌶️ 🌪️

long stories

◉ FORGIVELESS

On the night of her wedding anniversary, the reader discovers her husband’s betrayal. Heartbroken but resolute, she finds herself crossing paths with Rio—a magnetic stranger who radiates charm and a touch of danger. Inspired by SZA's hit Forgiveless, this story dives headfirst into her journey of rediscovery and revenge, navigating heartbreak, passion, and a much-needed sense of freedom. Packed with steamy encounters, heartfelt moments, and just the right dose of angst, Forgiveless promises all the fluffy highs and messy lows of a romance that will keep you hooked. Readers can expect a wild ride and a hard-earned happy ending that’s as satisfying as it is sweet.

➨ one 🌪️

➨ two 🌶️

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➨ five ❤️‍🩹

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➨ epilogue 🧸

requests

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drabble

Rio meeting readers bsf from out of town n she is like gossiping w him about the WILD shit she used to get up to and hes just laughing his ass off cause he thought she was all innocent.

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[alexandria-thornton]

Oh, hand sanitizer, how you fill the void whisky left in my heart, that which passes passes like clouds and yet you remain steadfast and true. Sing, O gel of the angels' distillery, that I might hear thy voice and join you, voices entwined in the jubilee of freedom. I reach through the shadows with you at my side, unafraid.

[gyutopia]

world of sinners i | sim jaeyun

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: your parents are the head of one of the nation’s most lucrative syndicates and your older brother is heir to the throne which leaves you free to leave this world of evil behind. you’ve been waiting for this day for twenty years of your life, you can practically taste the freedom. what will you do, however, when your parents arrange a marriage for you to bind together their empire with the Lee’s to stop a full on gang war?

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: sim jaeyun x f!reader ft brother!sungchan

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 9.0k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: dark themes, mentions of prostitution, drugs, mentions of violence, mentions of guns, vulgar language, mentions of death, forced marriage, corruption, consumption of alcohol.

— T E R M I N O L O G Y: abeonim ; father

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: this is the revamped version of my fic! the original can be found on @vintagejaemin, this was originally meant to be for ateez but i’ve decided to turn it into an enha fic ! :)

masterlist | next

“I’m stepping down.”

The dining room is silent. You stop cutting your steak to look up from your plate into your father's eyes. He returns your gaze and waits for you to question him, but you don’t. Instead, you turn your attention to your glass of Sauvignon blanc.

You hear your older brother clear his throat before placing down his utensils and addresses your father. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brought this about?”

You pick up your wine glass and swirl it around before bringing it up to your lips to finish it off. Your father's eyes flicker to you but you’re too busy trying to get drunk to notice.

Dinner with your family is something you’ve always dreaded. The atmosphere was always stuffy: elbows off the table, sit up straight, chew with your mouth shut, take small bites, make pleasant conversation, don't talk with your mouth full, finish your plate, use your napkin, ask for permission to leave the table. It felt like a chore rather than a meal.

Often, you could get out of family dinners by giving your father some bullshit excuse but tonight he wasn’t buying any of them. He claimed he and your mother needed to discuss something important with you and your brother. You guess this is pretty important news.

Your father clears his throat and swirls the whisky in his glass, the sound of ice clinking against the glass reverberates within the room.

“Well, Sungchan, I figured it was time you took over. The transition might be a long one, I have things I need to take care of but once everything is settled, the throne is yours.”

You place your glass back onto the table and sit straighter in your seat. You look at your mother but she makes a point to avoid your eyes. You pull your gaze away from her and turn to look at Sungchan who’s sat by your side, “congratulations.”

You knew this day would come, you just didn’t think it would come so soon. To your knowledge, your father’s in perfect health and things within the Empire have been running smoothly; you don’t see the need for Sungchan to take over just yet. Sungchan spares you a smile and a small nod of his head.

“As you two know, things are getting tense with the Lee’s,” the situation your father is referring to is the gang war that’s on the verge of starting with the Lee family, another mafia that rules the other half of town. Things are starting to heat up at the border, your dealers keep roaming into the Lee’s territory and their dealers are doing the same to you.

It’s causing you both to lose money and it’s led to a rise in gun violence. Men are dropping dead left and right in the streets, you tried telling your father to redraw the borders and give some land to the Lee’s but he quickly dismissed you saying you didn’t know what you were talking about.

“Your mother and I sat down with Lee Jaehee and his wife, and after much discussion we came to an agreement.”

“What are the terms of your agreement, Father?” You ask, your interest peaked.

Your father glances at you but doesn’t answer, refusing to fully meet your eyes and so your mother does. “We’ve arranged a marriage between you and their heir.”

Your parents register the shock on your face before you can hide it. You do your best to reel in your emotions before an argument breaks out though. Sungchan, sensing your shock that’s slowly beginning to morph into anger, reaches a hand out to place it on top of yours under the table to help calm you down.

“What about our agreement, Father?” You ask, steadying your tone so he doesn’t scold you for being disrespectful. The agreement you’re referring to is the one you made with your parents months ago. Seeing as Sungchan is heir to your father’s Empire, you saw no need to stay in this world you’ve come to despise and convinced your father to allow you to walk away once you graduate college.

You’ve always ranked number one at school, never once have you gotten a mark below a 90 in any of your classes. With perseverance and determination, fueled by your desire to leave this lifestyle behind, you graduated early and began taking classes at Sungkyunkwan University your junior year.

You major in both fine arts and business administration. You’re in your final year and college life has been a dream. You’re now twenty years old and set to graduate within four months. You have plans to leave South Korea and migrate to Paris with Haru and Anton, your two best friends and college roommate, following your graduation.

“You’re allowed to continue your studies but following your graduation, you’ll be getting married.”

Every word stings, only fueling the fire that burns inside of you. Your fists begin to clench and your jaw roots. Knuckles hurting from clenching your fists too hard, and gritted teeth from an effort to remain silent, your now hunched form exudes an animosity that’s like acid.

“No.” You say, leaving no room for discussion.

Your father looks at you in surprise, you’ve never talked back before. “No?”

You stand abruptly, the force knocking over your chair. “No. I won’t be a pawn in your ridiculous scheme. You know how I feel about your line of work, I played my part for the last twenty years and paid my dues. I refuse to enter a marriage agreement and get roped back into this mess!”

“____⏤” Sungchan gives a warning call of your name only to be cut off by your father who raises a hand in his direction.

“In case you’ve forgotten who I am and your place in this family, let me remind you. I am your father and as my daughter you’re to do as I say. As long as you have my blood running through your veins, you will never be able to leave.”

That is the breaking point of your patience. At that moment, your rage is so intense that it leaves you seething and with a bitter taste in your mouth.

“The Lee family will be here on Sunday for you to meet their son. Don’t be late.”

You glare at your father, “go to hell.”

He smirks and raises his whiskey glass in your direction, “Sweetheart, I’m the king.”

“I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve called you here.” Jake and Heeseung take their respective seats in front of their fathers desk, anticipating his next words.

For the past year, their father and his men have been keeping a close eye on the two brothers to see who is more fit to take on the role as head of the Lee Empire. At first, Heeseung was set to take over due to being the oldest and legitimate son. Knowing this, Heeseung took advantage of his position and began abusing the power he had yet to inherit.

He became a wild child. He spent his nights in Hongdae strip clubs and would often blow all his money on prostitutes. It was pathetic really, it also wasn’t a good image for the Lee’s, so their father stepped in and declared the throne was up for grabs.

Jake was never really interested in taking over, he grew up knowing that no matter what, Heeseung would ultimately rule over the underworld. Being the bastard child born from the product of his fathers affair, he was often kept hidden in the shadows. The sudden declaration came as a total shock to him and although he hadn’t been keen on taking over before, he knew he would be a fool to pass this up.

A rivalry sparked between the two brothers as they went head to head vying for the same position. While Heeseung was out getting high and drunk off of their father’s riches, Jake was at home studying his father's tactics and memorizing the names and faces of every associate of the Lee Ring.

Because Heeseung had been unfocused for so long, it had taken him longer to submerge himself back into the game. Once he had gotten his groove back, however, it was clear he would make a ruthless and good leader. Although he had his moments where he would slip up, who their father would choose was really up in the air.

“After careful evaluation I’ve decided to hand over the empire to Jaeyun.”

Jake lets out a relieved sigh and bows his head respectfully. “Thank you, Abeonim. It’s an honor to be given this ti⏤”

“You can’t be serious?” A low growl escapes Heeseung’s parted lips as he cuts off Jake and looks at his father in shock, “I deserve that title! It’s my birthright!”

Their father sends a sharp glare his way, “you lost that right when you chose to focus your attention on booze and hookers.”

Heeseung scoffs, “I can rule better than he can and you know it! You’re choosing to punish me because your ego is in the way!”

The two brothers watch as the whites of their father's eyes turn to pure black, his icy stare lethal and piercing. In that moment, Jake feels grateful that he isn't the one on the receiving end of their father's anger.

“Watch your tone, Heeseung. And must you know, this has nothing to do with my ego. You’re simply not fit to take over.”

Although Heeseung knows this could end very badly for him, it doesn’t stop him from continuing. “Everything you’ve built will turn to ash if you hand it over to Jaeyun. Be smart for once and give me the rights to the Lee Empire!”

Jaehee slams his fist on the desk, vexed at his oldest son's actions. “Enough! I will not be made a fool by my own son. You say you would make a better leader and yet your actions fail to line up with your words. Over the past year Jaeyun has proved himself to be the better man,” he pauses to take a breath, “he’s kept up with his studies while simultaneously helping me run the empire while you were too busy being pussy whipped.”

Heeseung’s cheeks heat up in both shame and embarrassment but his father doesn’t stop just yet, “tell me Heeseung, do you know why we had to switch suppliers? Do you know what’s going on with the Feds? Most of all do you even know what’s happening at the border?”

The room falls silent as Heeseung fails to answer. When it’s obvious he won’t be giving an answer anytime soon Jaehee turns to Jake and sighs, “inform your incompetent brother of what’s been going on while he was off getting head.”

Jake clears his throat and sits up in his seat, “we had to switch suppliers because some of the men were stealing baggies and selling them for their own profit. As for the Feds, they’ve caught wind of the donation of thirty million won to the Korean government, they suspect corruption and launched an official investigation two days ago. And regarding the border, we’re on the verge of a gang war with the Jung’s.”

Taken aback by the sudden onslaught of new information, Heeseung briefly forgets why he was mad in the first place. “The Feds launched an investigation? What are we going to do?”

Jaehee scoffs, “what do you think? We’re going to comply with their requests. The president is on our payroll, we’ll be cleared of all charges in no time. Until then, I’m going to need you both to lay low.”

The two brothers nod their head in understanding, “yes sir.”

Jaehee nods in satisfaction. “Good, now onto the last thing I would like to discuss with you. As you now know Heeseung, we’re on the verge of war. Any good leader will do everything in their power to avoid war which is why your mother and I sat down with the Jung’s to try and come to an agreement.”

“In order to secure things at the border, we came to the agreement that Jaeyun shall enter a marriage with their youngest daughter, that way we can bind together our families and show that we’re a united front to the public. Having them as allies will help us greatly, we’ll be having dinner with them on Sunday so you two can meet. Any objections?”

Jake has millions of objections, an arranged marriage? He knew if he obtained the position of head of Lee Empire this day would come but it feels too sudden. He hasn’t even fully assimilated to his new role and he’s now being thrust into a marriage with a girl he doesn’t even know.

Although he has his objections he doesn’t voice them, he knows better. With a small shake of his head he says, “no sir.”

His father smiles, looking proud of his youngest while Heeseung only glares at the hourglass sat on a glass shelf above his father's head.

“Good, you’re dismissed.”

It’s Sunday afternoon and in a last attempt to get yourself out of this outrageous marriage agreement, you’ve woken up early and dressed yourself in Jung Empire colors. Your body is adorned in an extravagant emerald green v-neck tie blouse with skin tight black jeans.

Your hair is tied up in a ponytail and your feet are encased in a pair of six inch red soled Louboutins that Sungchan had gifted you for your birthday. The Rolls Royce that you're riding in pulls up in front of your fathers warehouse for bagging, you thank the driver before exiting. You stare up at the daunting building and tuck your Bottega Veneta clutch under your arm, although your relationship with your father is rocky, you were once close and a daddy’s girl. You never had to ask twice for something, he was always willing to do anything for you. You can only pray he’s willing to do the same now. If he doesn’t budge however, begging isn’t beneath you, you’ll get on your knees if you have to.

You enter the building and find your father smoking while circling around the tables where his men are bagging a new batch of cocaine. You slide your eyes over to Sungchan who’s standing in the corner of the room talking to his security detail. You take a deep breath before marching over to your father.

“Can I steal you for a moment?”

Some workers look up to stare at you in confusion momentarily forgetting the task at hand but the man you called for doesn’t even spare you a glance. He stops to slap the side of a man’s head to pull his attention away from you, “careful. She’s an engaged woman.”

You scoff at your father's words, “Father, can we please speak?”

He continues to ignore you and moves down the row of tables filled with men weighing out the bags. “I’m listening, darling.”

You don’t want to have this conversation this way but you know that once your father is focused on his Empire, nothing else matters until he’s done. “I don’t want to marry him, please don’t do this.”

Your father slowly inhales his cigarette, still not looking at you. “I thought I was clear when I said no the first time you asked me this, ____.”

You sigh, “I won’t be happy if you make me do this!” You stop walking but he continues, your frustration builds and you stomp your foot, “will you pay attention to me for once damnit!”

He stops in his steps and takes one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it on the floor and snubbing it out with his shoe. He carefully turns to look at you and shoves his hands into the pocket of his suit pants. “Tell me, ____, how are things looking for the Empire, business wise?”

You frown, what does that have to do with dissolving your arranged marriage? “Sales are up ten percent from quarter one due to expanding on the south side and spending has decreased by fifteen percent after cutting ties with the Byun’s. I went to meet with the Chief of Police and made a settlement of two billion won, you now have complete jurisdiction over the Gwangju district. Business is running smoothly, you should expect an increase of twelve percent revenue wise by the end of the new quarter.”

Your father smiles and steps closer to you to take your face into his hands. “You’ve always been a bright girl, ____. It would be wasted potential to let you walk away from this lifestyle. While your brother makes for a great leader, you make one hell of a business woman. Such a shame I can’t keep you here to continue working for our Empire.”

You remove his hands from your face and clutch them desperately in your hands before shaking your head, “you know I hate everything about business management and this lifestyle. Whether I stay here with you or get married to the Lee heir, I will always be unhappy and you know that!”

Your father sighs and turns on his heel, “happiness is an illusion, my dear. Now, I believe you have an engagement dinner to go prepare for.”

He walks away and orders for one of his men to drive you back home to get ready for tonight. You dejectedly stare at your father’s retreating back, completely at a loss. What now? Do you go through with this unwanted marriage or do you make a run for it after you walk the stage for your graduation? You follow the buff man ordered to take you home and get in the back of the all black SUV parked out front. He drives you home in silence, leaving you to drown in your thoughts.

It doesn't take long for you to arrive, you’re home in under thirty minutes leaving you with plenty of time to get yourself ready for tonight.

You exit the vehicle and trudge up the polished steps of your two story mansion. You breeze past the kitchen, where your mother is informing the chef of tonight's menu. You head to your room and gently close your bedroom door moving on auto pilot. Sitting on your bed, you allow the news to fully sink in. Your fate has been decided and there’s no way out.

Left with no choice, you begin assembling an outfit for tonight. You skim your closet in search of your dusty blue frill hem lace dress you had gotten from Chanel. Once you find the dress you move to place it on your king sized bed and move back to your walk in closet to get your crystal open toed Jimmy Choo pumps that you gifted yourself during finals week sophomore year.

You walk leisurely to your bathroom, strip down, then step into the shower. You turn the water on high; the steam thickens and warms, rising up to your face. You bathe your skin lightly, taking care to not rub yourself raw. You make sure to wash your face and hair thoroughly before getting out of the shower. You then dry off and head back to your room to get ready.

You hydrate your body and slip into your undergarments before getting to work on your makeup. You shape and draw your brows before working on your eyeshadow—you go for a neutral eye look with an undertone of baby blue to go with your dress. Once satisfied, you go in with your mascara and apply one layer for both eyelashes.

Now that your makeup is finished, you move to your bed and pick up your outfit for the night and give it one last glance before slipping on the dress. The mini length dress has an a-line neckline, short sleeves, and a trumpet skirt. The bodice is fitted and fits your figure easily. You look stunning, if it weren’t for what awaits you downstairs, you would be excited but you know better.

There’s a light knock on your door that pulls you out of your trance. You sadly turn to look at your door just as Sungchan walks in. He offers you a smile and gently shuts the door behind him. “You look beautiful.”

You play with the lace of your dress, “thanks.”

A heavy silence soon settles over the two of you, thicker than the uneasy tension you’re sure sits in the dining room where your guests await you. You glance around your room to try to avoid catching your brother's gaze. Things have never been this tense between the two of you, the atmosphere is usually light and fun.

Sungchan has always looked out for you and made sure you’re comfortable. You have no doubt that he tried to talk your father out of signing away your freedom. It’s what Sungchan does. He always looks out for you.

“We should probably go greet our guests.”

Sungchan turns to walk away but you reach a hand out and grab onto the back of his suit jacket, “W-wait.”

He turns to look at you. He takes one good look at you and his shoulders drop. He envelopes you in a hug and soothingly rubs your back.

You bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from crying. You refuse to shed any tears over this situation, you need to be strong. “I know this isn’t what you wanted and it’s not fair that it’s happened to you but please continue to be the strong woman I know you are.” Sungchan whispers into your hair.

You sigh, “it’s not fair! I don’t want to marry him. Why do I always get the short end of the stick? Hm? Why is it always me?”

Sungchan chokes back a sob, it physically hurts him seeing you so sad, it’s a contrast from your usual behavior. You’re always a bright and bubbly person who tries to be optimistic no matter what.

“I know, don’t worry. I’ll fix things, just be patient for now. I’ll fix it.” He then whispers under his breath, “I promise,” but it’s too low for you to pick up on what he said.

You two spend a few more minutes enjoying the embrace before Sungchan reluctantly pulls back. “We should attend to our guests. I’ll head down first, you should fix your makeup before coming down.”

You nod and let him exit your room before making quick work of reapplying your mascara and fixing your eyeshadow that had smudged.

You apply a neutral tone lipstick from your fifty piece Tom Ford Boys and Girls II collection and go over it with a clear lip gloss to make your lips shine.

When you’re done you take a deep breath to calm your nerves before exiting your room. You walk down the hallway and stop at the top of the stairs to collect yourself one last time. Once you feel ready, you descend the large staircase and walk towards the dining hall where you hear chatter and laughter floating through the area.

You stop in the doorway and scan the table. Your father is sat at the head with your mother to his left and Sungchan to his right. Next to Sungchan is a red haired male with multiple piercings, from months of studying books filled with all Jung Empire’s associates, you know he’s Lee Heeseung, the eldest Lee son. A lady is seated beside him, you assume that’s his mother. At the end of the table sits Lee Jaehee and to his right sits a buff black haired male who’s engaged in a conversation with your father. The seat beside him is empty, you presume it’s meant for you. He must be your suitor, the bastard child⏤ Sim Jaeyun or Jake.

You continue to stare at the long black haired male and make an assessment. He’s a sight to behold, no doubt about that. But looks aren’t everything, what if he’s a monster? Was he the type to get violent if he didn’t get his way? Would you fear for your life once you signed the marriage license?

As if he can feel your stare, he looks up and locks eyes with you. A forced smile takes over his lips as he raises his glass in your direction, all parties present at the table turn to the doorway to stare at you as well. You fidget under their stares but you don’t cower away.

You walk over to the seat beside Jaeyun with your head held high, you greet everyone before taking a seat. “It’s about time you joined us.” Your father jokes.

You give him a forced smile and bow your head, “forgive me, I wanted to take extra care to make sure my looks were above par.”

Jaehee chuckles, “it���s alright dear,” he picks up his glass of whiskey and raises it, “shall we make a toast?”

Your father hums and raises his glass as well. Everyone soon follows. A server, noticing you don’t have any alcohol to toast with, quickly steps up and fills your flute glass with champagne.

You raise the flute and clink it against the other seven glasses, “to the engagement of Jaeyun and ____ and the binding of two powerful families!”

You mumble a small cheers under your breath before peeling back the glass and taking a small sip. It goes down easily and slightly burns your throat, there’s a bitter taste at the end that has you shivering in your seat. You take a few more sips before placing it back down. While it’s not strong enough to get you drunk, it could still give you a pleasant buzz and you need to be fully sober for tonight.

You look across the table to find Heeseung throwing back his glass of whiskey. He gulps it down and raises the empty glass in the air for a server to take and refill. You study the older male and notice there’s something off about him. By the way he’s sitting you can tell he has no interest in being here and with the way he’s throwing back alcohol without a care in the world, completely disregarding the glares his father sends his way you just know he’s the problem child.

He has a certain air about him, he almost seems angry. You cock a brow as you continue to study his actions, he swaps out his whiskey for a glass of champagne. He downs it in one go and huffs in annoyance when the server is a beat late in refilling his glass.

As he’s waiting for his fix, he looks up and sends a harsh glare in Jaeyun’s direction. You frown and follow his line of vision to find your soon to be fiancé smiling brightly at Sungchan while they converse about stocks.

You drum your fingers against your flute of champagne as you silently hum in understanding. There seems to be some sort of animosity between the two brothers. You wonder what happened.

Before you get to dwell on the situation, more servers file into the dining hall with your meals. You’re first served a bowl of soup but you only get three spoonfuls before it’s being taken away and replaced with a butternut squash ravioli topped with rosemary browned butter.

You’re able to get in a few more bites before it’s taken. You don’t mind it though, the taste of the squash was too strong for you. A kale salad with Asian grapes, candied walnuts, gorgonzola cheese, honey and vinaigrette is what’s next on the menu.

You push your food around, not at all interested in eating the salad. You would have preferred a Cesar instead. Not much is said, your parents discuss business but the four of you (Heeseung, Jaeyun, Sungchan, and you) stay silent, not bothering to get to know each other.

The main course comes soon and you’re glad it’s a bit bigger than the last three meals you’ve been served. It’s balsamic covered lamb chops drizzled with a white bean purée. Once the main course is served, conversation begins to flow between Jaeyun and you.

“Your father tells me you’re a student? What do you study?”

You finish chewing your lamb and clear your throat, “I study business management and fine arts.”

Jaeyun nods, impressed, “fine arts? Is that a passion of yours?”

You smile and nod eagerly. Talking about anything art related always fills you with joy. Art has always been your escape, you had hoped to become an art director once you had graduated and migrated to France with Haru and Anton. Your mood slightly crumples, just a week ago that dream was plausible but now it’ll remain nothing more than a dream.

“It is, art is a very beautiful form of communication and expression. It’s helped me through some dark times”

Jaeyun smiles at your words and looks at you thoughtfully. He had his own doubts coming into this dinner but you’re not as bad as he had assumed.

Dessert is soon served, it’s a pear tart with almond cream. You take your time enjoying the sweet treat but it’s gone too fast for your liking. The adults soon wrap up eating and conclude their business talk.

You think the dinners over and get ready to excuse yourself but your mother starts a new conversation. The topic being your wedding.

“Oh I can’t wait to see you in a wedding gown, ____! I just know you’ll look lovely.”

You inwardly cringe at her comment but don’t speak on it.

“Why don’t you two go for a walk in the garden? Take some time to converse and get to know each other, you barely talked during dinner and the whole point was for you two to get to know each other.” Your father suggests.

You're ready to claim you’re too tired to go walking around the garden so late at night but Jaeyun stands before you get the chance. “That sounds lovely. Care to join me, ____?”

He holds a hand out for you to take. You stare at it wearily but take his hand regardless and allow him to help you up. You both excuse yourselves and head for the back door that leads to the garden in your backyard.

The air is pungent with the fragrance of jasmine. The two of you walk along the path lined with fallen petals from the bonsai trees that line the perfect lawn in their wooden boxes. In the center of the garden sits a pond as large as a small lake with flowering lily pads and a wooden bridge that crosses the middle so you can look down at the koi. The flower beds are a riot of spring colors and under close inspection you would be able to see they’re weed-free.

“How old are you, Jaeyun?” You ask.

He crosses his arms behind him, “twenty-two. And you?”

“Twenty.”

A semi-awkward silence soon settles over the two of you as you take a stroll around the extravagant garden. “Let’s not beat around the bush, ____.” Jaeyun says as he comes to a stop. You stop walking as well and turn to face him, “I’m well aware this marriage isn’t something you want, it’s not something I wanted either but there’s no way out of it.”

You cross your arms and nod allowing him to continue. “While I may not be the man you intended to marry, I want you to know I have no ill intentions. I won’t force myself on you and I won’t stop you from pursuing other men. This is a marriage of convenience and I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Are you mad?” You ask, he cocks his head to the side in confusion, not quite understanding your question. “Are you mad about this arrangement? You seem too calm about this, doesn’t it make you feel enraged to know your parents signed away your freedom?”

He shrugs, “it’s the price we have to pay for being their children.”

You scoff, “it’s a pretty crappy exchange.”

Jaeyun chuckles at your response, “I take it you feel wronged?”

You scowl, what type of question is that? Of course you feel wronged. “Of course I do. This isn’t the life I pictured for myself.”

“What was the life you pictured for yourself then?”

You take a deep breath and turn to continue walking. Jaeyun follows closely behind you as you both climb the bridge. “I wanted to leave Korea with my best friends and move to France, I’ve always had the dream of becoming an art director. I would probably fall in love and have a romance you only find in movies, have a lowkey beach wedding and try for kids later on down the line.”

You don’t know why you’re spilling your wants and dreams to Jaeyun, it’s not like he can give you the life you desire. Telling him this won’t change a thing but you suppose it’s nice to express your wants to another person who could possibly relate.

“I can’t give you the whirlwind romance you want but I can open a creative department and make you head of all creative art projects. I know it’s a longshot from the life you want but it’s a start.” He offers while gazing into your eyes.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You curiously wonder out loud. Jaeyun softly chuckles at your question and comes to a halt in the middle of the bridge.

“Would you rather me be rude?”

You shake your head, “it’s not that. It’s just,” you pause to try and find the right words, “you've made it clear you don’t want to marry me either so why are you going out of your way to make sure I’m comfortable? Shouldn’t you hate me for ruining your life?”

“But you didn’t ruin my life? This marriage wasn’t your idea and I won’t take my anger out on you. You’re just as much of a victim as I am.”

You stay silent and just study Jaeyun. Your biggest fear entering this dinner was that he would be a complete jerk but he’s the absolute opposite. Conversation seems to flow easily between the two of you and he’s made it clear there’s no animosity between the two of you. You wish you could be as open to this as he is but a part of you will always despise him for taking away your freedom. He may have not done it directly and it may not be fair to him but you can’t help the way you feel.

“I understand.”

He nods and takes a few steps ahead of you and turns back to face you. “I had always hoped that when I proposed it was to a woman I knew and loved but as we both know, that isn’t the case. While this isn’t ideal, I still want to do it properly.” You watch as he gets down on one knee and pulls a ring box out of his back pocket. “Will you marry me, Jung ____?”

You try to smile at the sweet gesture but you’re sure it comes out more like a grimace. You slowly nod your head and give him your left hand. “Yes.” He smiles up at you and gingerly slips a 14k white gold engagement ring with a cushion cut diamond that illuminates the center of the sophisticated design with sparkling round diamonds in a halo motif on your ring finger. It fits snuggly, shimmering in the moonlight and mocking you as you rotate your hand.

Jaeyun gets up and dusts off his knees. “Let’s go back inside?”

Two weeks have passed since your formal engagement to Jaeyun and the press has been going crazy. The night after the dinner, your parents had the two of you go on a date for publicity and leaked the news of your engagement to the press. Pictures soon spread like wildfire and your name has been in the news ever since.

You didn’t expect anything less, while your family is notoriously known for ruling over the underworld, it’s not all you do. To avoid the law and jail time, your father owns his own conglomerate to stand as a front for the illegal acts that go on behind closed doors. Your father has done a fantastic job of separating the empire from the conglomerate. He’s thorough with his work and makes sure nothing can be traced back to the empire. To the public, Nexa-Corp has made great accomplishments within Korea and has been a global leader bringing innovation for a happier future. No one would expect that your family owns and runs its own mafia.

Because you’re the only daughter of such a prominent figure in Korean society, as well as Jaeyun who’s the youngest son of the CEO of Veridian Global, you’re sure the news of your engagement will continue to circulate for months and you have no doubt that the wedding itself will be broadcasted for all of Korea to see.

Tonight is your engagement party. You didn’t want one but it wasn’t up to you. Both your parents and Jaeyun’s claim it’s important your relationship seem as real as can be and that you show the public you’re a united front.

“____? Are you dressed?”

You pull your gaze away from the mirror to the door just as your mother walks in. She gasps and closes the door behind her. “Oh sweetheart, you look stunning!”

Your hair is slicked back and your makeup was done by a makeup artist. She went for a bold look to match your dress, your lips are painted a bright red and you have a smokey eyeshadow look. You’re dressed in a burgundy lace sweetheart ball gown that has a v-shaped bust. The dress glimmers and fits your waist tightly. The bodice is hand-beaded and also forms a sequined layer beneath the airy tulle ball gown skirt. You feel like an absolute princess, while it wasn’t the dress you had in mind you still feel beautiful.

“I’ve gotten so used to seeing you wearing green but red is a nice fit for you.” Your mother says.

You smooth out the lace of your dress and shrug, “green will always be my color.” To a normal person, it may seem as if you’re simply discussing colors with your mother but there’s a double meaning. Emerald green is the Jung Empire’s color and Burgundy is the Lee Empire’s color. While you may be marrying a Lee and will now have to rep the color red, you will forever be a Jung at heart.

Your mother gingerly smiles at you and reaches a hand out to grasp yours. “I know this isn’t what you wanted but I hope you can find the happiness you’ve always wanted with Jaeyun. He seems like a lovely boy.”

You inhale deeply and shake your head. You give your mother a small smile and pull your hands out of her grasp. “Happiness is an illusion.” You don’t give her time to refute your claim and step aside. “I believe we have guests to attend to?”

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

The Ballroom is 7,600 square feet with a dramatic ceiling. It’s beautifully appointed with crystal chandeliers and decked out in silver and burgundy decor. The hall is filled with cocktail tables and waiters who are stationed around the room waiting to be called upon. You’ve made your rounds and you’re now settled in the back of the hall nursing a glass of champagne while Jaeyun is currently having a conversation with his buddies who you briefly met.

“Jung ____?”

You try to reel in your annoyance at being called upon yet again. You down your champagne in one go and place it on the tray of a waiter who skims past you before whirling around to come face to face with a man dressed in an all black suit. You try and wrack your mind to see if you can recognize him, but you come up empty handed.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” You ask.

He shakes his head and reaches into the inside of his suit pocket to pull out a wallet, he opens it up and allows you to see the contents. He’s from the FBI. You feel your heart rate pick up but you manage to keep a poker face.

You stare into the detective's eyes, determined not to look away first. You contort your lips into a toothy saccharine smile relaxing your face. You had mastered your fake smile, right down to the wrinkles around your eyes at the young age of six. It’s key to have complete control over your facial features in your line of work. One wrong look and you could end up dead or in prison. “May I help you?”

He folds up his wallet and places it back into his pocket. “Congratulations on your engagement, Ms. Jung. While I hate to put a damper on the mood, I have a few questions regarding the ongoing case we have against your fiancé.”

You clutch your dress as the sentence leaves the male's mouth. The FBI has an ongoing case against the Lee’s? You wonder why it wasn’t mentioned to your family during the arrangement of your engagement.

You want to know the details of the charges but you know you can’t entertain this conversation. If any of your father's associates or allies of the Lee’s see you it could be disastrous. “Korean Civil Code, Article 826, The duties of Husband and Wife⏤ the confidential marital communications privilege allows a spouse to refuse to testify about, or produce documents evidencing, any confidential communication made during a marriage and allows the other spouse to prevent that testimony or document production. I have nothing to say to you, detective.”

He scoffs and picks up a champagne glass from the tray of a waiter who walks past you. “In case you’ve forgotten, you haven’t married him yet Ms. Jung. Don’t make me subpoena you.”

You cross your arms against your chest and nod, “am I a suspect, detective?” He shakes his head, “a person of interest then?”

“Not at the moment but if you continue on I will charge you with obstruction of justice.”

You scoff, “you can’t charge me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“Don’t make this difficult. When we convict your fiancé we can have you arrested as well for aiding and abetting. You wouldn’t want to go to prison for your fiancé’s mistakes would you?”

You cluck your tongue, “article 200, South Korean Constitution⏤ I have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. I am now invoking that right.”

“You seem to be well versed with the law, I guess it’s good to know your rights if you’re running a syndicate.”

You roll your eyes, “if you have any further questions or concerns feel free to contact my lawyer.”

He chuckles, “why lawyer up if you have nothing to hide?”

You pluck the champagne glass from his hand and point it in the direction of the exit. “Please see yourself out before I have security escort you out.”

He smirks at you. “The next time we meet I’ll have a warrant for your arrest.”

You smile and raise the glass up to your lips before knocking it back and chugging down the champagne. “It was nice meeting you, detective.” You place the glass down on a cocktail table before you turn to walk away and find Jaeyun.

You spot him easily, he’s still conversing with Park Jonseong, his long time best friend. You slide up to Jaeyun and lean into his ear. “Behind me, near the back of the hall is a man in an all black suit. He’s with the FBI.”

You pull back but Jaeyun places a hand on your waist and pulls you closer into his side. People near you coo at the affection but the two of you pay no attention to them. Jaeyun picks up a flute glass and raises it in the direction of the detective, a smug look on his face. The male scowls and shakes his head before making a b-line for the exit.

Your heart has been pounding all morning.

The four months came way too soon for your liking. Following the engagement party, you chose to submerge yourself in your school work and spend as much time as possible with Anton and Haru. You absolutely refused to have a say in the wedding itself, it wasn’t something you wanted and would always send you into a panicked state just thinking about it.

A week after announcing your engagement, you went wedding dress shopping with both your mother and Jaeyun’s. Your dress was the one thing you absolutely refused to compromise on. A month before your graduation a date plus venue was picked and invitations were sent out.

An hour has passed since lunch and you feel as if you’re going to vomit all the contents of your stomach. Preparations for the wedding have already started and you’re currently getting your hair and makeup done while Haru runs around making sure your other bridesmaids are dressed and ready to go.

Your bridal court is made up of the daughters of other powerful mafia heads to show that you’re a united front. You’ve never spoken a word to the six females and yet they’re the ones who’ll be standing by you on one of the biggest days of your life. Haru was made your maid of honor due to the relationship you two have and her father being Kim Dongwook, a good associate of your father.

“I’m done with your makeup dear, let’s get you in that dress.”

You nod and stand on shaky legs. You usually pride yourself on always being confident but you seem to be lacking it today. Haru ushers the other girls into the hallway so you can get dressed in peace. You slip off your robe and slide into your hand sewn custom made fit and flare gown. You shimmy into the form fitting dress taking care to not force it on and rip it.

The skirt of your dress has geometrical lace to match the bodice. When designing your dress, you wanted something simple yet dramatic and sophisticated⏤you wanted it to represent you. The train just might be your favorite part of the dress, it’s a cathedral length train that flows behind you. Your makeup artist holds back your hair while you slip your hands into the quarter length sleeves and Haru buttons you into the dress.

Once Haru fixes the last button, your makeup artist lets your hair down and steps away. You move to stand in front of the floor length mirror and examine yourself. You’re absolutely stunning. You wish you were marrying a man you actually loved so you could feel the joy every bride describes when talking about their wedding day.

Haru brings over your veil and attempts to secure it in your hair with various pins. Once it’s situated she steps aside and lets you see the final product. You twiddle your fingers as you daze off thinking back to simpler times. A knock pulls you out of your trance however. “Come in.” You say

The door opens and in waltzes your mother and your soon to be mother-in-law. They coo at your dress and make a fuss about how Jaeyun’s going to love it but you don’t have it in you to pretend to be happy. You’re too tired and having to act as if you’re okay with what’s about to happen is too draining.

Before you know it, you’re being transported to the La Luce Myeong-dong Wedding Hall in an all white Rolls Royce with your father and Haru. Everything goes by in a blurr, your mind doesn’t even register pulling up. Just as you had predicted, your wedding is being broadcasted for all of Korea to see. There are multiple cameramen stationed outside the hall live streaming your entrance and some are taking pictures. Along with paparazzi, there's a crowd of spectators surrounding the building being held off by the police.

Your father steps out first before turning to offer you his hand. You take it and allow him to help you out of the car. Haru quickly comes to your aid to fix your train before swiftly entering the building to start the procession. Your bridesmaids follow behind Haru and gracefully walk up the steps and into the main hall where your guest and groom await.

Your father fixes your veil and allows you to hook your arm with his. You tightly grip onto your bouquet and count down the seconds. The spectators who’ve gathered for your wedding begin cheering as the doors to the hall open and the sound of canon in d arranged by the Stuttgart Orchestra wafts down into the streets of Seoul.

Your guest turn their attention to the door as you walk in and down the aisle on your father's arm. You force a smile on your face and try to play your role of the blushing bride. The aisle is lined with a white carpet and babies breath flowers fill the empty spaces on the ground with candles. Jaeyun is stood at the front of the altar with his groomsmen right behind him.

You look into his eyes and for the first time since you’ve met him you can see the fear that’s clearly in his eyes. Just like you, Jaeyun has been good at concealing his true emotions but you guess he doesn’t have it in him to pretend today either.

Walking down the aisle with your father is just as terrifying as you thought it would be. All eyes are on you, not only are you being scrutinized by the two hundred guests in the hall but you’re also being watched by the thousands tuning in live.

The remaining steps to get to the altar seem to take an eternity. When your father finally hands you over to Jaeyun and takes his seat at the table reserved for your family, Haru steps up to take your bouquet so you can give Jaeyun your hands. A cold terror washes over your body as you stare into your groom's eyes.

Before, you thought Jaeyun was put together, the more mature one out of the two of you but you now realize he’s just one hell of an actor. He’s not put together nor is he mature. He’s a small boy playing dress up. Your hands tremble under his own and despite your fear, you don’t look away, you continue to stare into his panic filled eyes and try to find comfort in the fact that you’re not in this alone. He shares your fear.

You hear words being spoken to you, the voice echoes through your eardrums but you refuse to focus your attention on anyone else. You don’t register anything in your mind beside Jaeyun’s “I do” and the feeling of him slipping your wedding band onto your ring finger. You exhale at the weight that now sits on your hand. This ring will forever bind you to Sim Jaeyun.

You hear the priest say a few words before turning to you to ask, “do you Jung ____ take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Sucking in a shaky breath you whisper the two words that seal your fate. “I do.” Your hand trembles as you reach out for Jaeyun’s ring from your ring bearer. Your throat constricts making it hard to breathe. You slide the silver band onto his fourth finger, it’s a simple band yet still eye catching.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

A round of applause fills the hall but it falls upon deaf ears as Jaeyun lifts your veil and slowly leans in, bringing one hand up to gently caress the apple of your cheek. You feel your chest rise in panic as he comes closer to your face. His eyes sliding shut is the last thing you see before your own flutter close.

Jaeyun’s lips are soft and warm. The kiss is gentle, no malice behind it but it’s lacking in emotion and passion. All the panic that has built up within you then bursts and tears begin to roll down your cheeks. As much as you tried to hold it in, the pain came out. The beads of water start falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. To anyone watching, it may seem like you’re crying tears of joy but in reality you’re nowhere near being happy or content with the direction your life is going.

Your life has just ended.

taglist: @dreamiestay

[theoutlanderevangelist]

3x05 “FREEDOM & WHISKY” | 001

More of my edits:

http://instagra.com/theoutlanderevangelist

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 3 EPISODE 05|| FREEDOM & WHISKY ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

I took a deep breath, pushed back my hair, and marched into the shadows of Carfax Close.It was a longish, winding close, and the printshop was at the foot. There were thriving businesses and tenements on either side, but I had no attention to spare for anything beyond the neat white sign that hung by the door. A. MALCOLMPRINTER AND BOOKSELLER it said, and beneath this, Books, calling cards, pamphlets, broadsheets, letters, etc. I stretched out my hand and touched the black letters of the name. A. Malcolm. Alexander Malcolm. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. Perhaps.

Another minute, and I would lose my nerve. I shoved open the door and walked in.

Cap 24~Voyager

[eyra]

will you ever write the 3rd part to statten park/sunshine on leith? pleeeease I don't mean to nag at you but please I would love it so much!

look I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I will do freedom & whisky 3 when Nicolas Cage does national treasure 3.

the ball’s in his court. x

[brian-in-finance]

Gif: @clairelizfraser

S03E05 Freedom & Whisky • 8 October 2017 Official Script

Outlander Rewatch 2023 Countdown To Season 7

Favourite Word

This is it. My bat-suit. — Claire

Favourite Line

Fuck fate. — Joe

Favourite Image

Scottish pearls. Jamie gave them to me on our wedding day. They belonged to his mother, Ellen, your grandmother. Wear them on your wedding day... if you’d like. — Claire

Remember… Claire sees a neat white sign: “A. Malcolm, Printer and Bookseller.” Her heart beats hard enough to be heard by anyone listening. Another minute and she will lose her nerve. — Outlander script, S03E05 Freedom & Whisky

34th of 75 • Saturday, 6 May 2023

[oneforthemunny]

love drunk |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

​​prompt: you and eddie work valentine's day at the hideout.

contains: 18+. alcohol, creepy old guys at the bar, mentions of road head, jealous!eddie, dacrphilia, mean!eddie, oral fem rec, spanking, hair pulling, degrading, p in v sex, aftercare. minors dni.

The Hideout was buzzing, filled with an unusual crowd of unlikely people, but what else did you expect on Valentine's Day?

Broken hearted men washing away their bitterness with beer and whisky, next to galentines celebrating their own freedom and singleness with shots and bad karaoke. The usual boys who were prowling the crowds for women desperate enough to go home with them, spewing horrible pick up lines that usually left the girls cringing and retreating the other way. Then there were the couples, some regulars and some not. They came to celebrate at the high top tables, people watch and enjoy their time together.

You'd been busy since you clocked in a little after four. You knew you'd be here well past last call, but that was alright, because Eddie was here. He was working the door with Tony, both in all black, leaned up at the entrance checking IDs and taking covers. Before your shift, Eddie had picked you up in his van, a dozen roses in the passenger seat.

You'd blushed, gushing to him about how sweet the gesture was. Eddie was sweet, so sweet. You'd never met a guy sweeter. He'd shrugged when you kissed him, smiley and gooey insides. "Anything for my best girl."

The two of you had only been together a few weeks, barely breaking the title of being official. You hadn't expected the gesture really, especially because you both worked. You figured you'd fuck after you got back to his place, you had wore your matching pink set for that reason, but the flowers were an extra effort that had your head swirling.

You sucked him off while he drove you to work as a thank you.

Now, you were pouring shots, mixing drinks, opening beers, collecting tips, slipping the wadded fives even some bigger bills into your bra with a wink and a dazzling smile. You knew the crowd would be big, and the tippers even bigger- the holidays always made people more generous when you were pouring drinks down their throats- so you wore your tightest, lowest top.

Eddie had noticed.

His eyes would catch yours from the door, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth when you bent over, shorts riding up over the nylon stockings you had underneath.

"C'mon, man." Tony laughed, shoving Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie smirked, nodding to the desperate girl at the door, who batted her eyes at him, eyes attempting at what he could only guess was sultry or sexy. He didn't care. They never worked on him anymore.

You poured another shot of whisky, sliding the glasses to the men in front of you. "Hey, sweetheart, take a shot with us." The old man slurred, tie loose and around his neck.

You smirked, adding their drinks to his tab. "Sorry, I'm on the clock." You said with an exaggerated pout. "My manager will get real mad at me."

The men sounded off their displeasure, smacking the bar with open palms so their glasses rattled. "Who, Mickey? I know Mickey, baby, he-he won't get ya in trouble. Not a pretty thing like you."

You knew these guys were big tippers which is the only reason you hadn't had them cut off and removed. They had been whistling, cat calling, and spewing every lewd, vulgar thing that came to their drunken, filthy minds and you and Tasha all night. You both would just look at each other, roll your eyes, and go back to the middle-aged women divorcees who were much nicer and sweeter to you.

"Just one little shot, baby. Hell, I'll pay for it." Jack Harrington, Steve's dad, slurred, grinning at you with a predatory smile. No wonder Steve hated the guy so much.

"I'll do you one better," They guy next to him, Marco- you think, boasted, pulling out his wallet. He slid a crisp one hundred dollar bill out, slapping it on the table. "One hundred dollars and I'll buy the shot. Make it top shelf, sweetheart." He winked, the other guys whooping and hollering with him.

Eddie had looked over at the commotion, dark eyes narrowed on the rowdy group of men. He despised when they came in. Regulars and assholes at that, always hurling objectifying, nasty comments to the bartenders there. Getting so drunk they could barely drive home. They were especially rowdy tonight after dinner with their wives and mistresses, who they hated, before coming here.

Eddie was waiting, just waiting for you or Tasha to give him the sign. Give him the signal that they needed to be gone. He'd take complete joy in tossing them out, making sure they hit the pavement on their way out.

"I tell you what," You started, placing your hands on your hips. You nudged Tasha who watched you carefully, pouring her ale into a glass. "Make it a hundred a piece for me and Tasha, I'll pick the shot, and," You paused, smirking at the way their eyes lit up. "You gotta go sing me a song." You nodded towards the stage.

The men howled in laughter as Marco pulled out another hundred, sliding it next to yours. "Deal, angel." He said smugly. "Any requests?"

You grabbed the money, sliding Tasha her's then sliding yours in your bra. You pulled out a shot glasses, lining them up Patron and a bowl of limes. "Something romantic." You smiled. "It's Valentine's Day after all." 

You pressed your glass against theirs, downing the harsh liquid with a grimace while they cheered you on, celebrating each other obnoxiously. Eddie's jaw clenched from the door, yanking the cover cash from a college aged kid a little too harshly. He knew it was your job, you were just trying to make enough money to pay your rent just like he was, but it didn't make it any less hard when you'd flirt like this.

You made your rounds, pouring, swiping, smiling, and maneuvering expertly around the bar. Stacking glasses, cutting limes and oranges, wiping away spills, chatting with patrons. You even filled up two glasses of water, light ice and extra lemon- the way Eddie liked it- bringing them to the door for Tony and him.

Eddie smiled when you brought it over, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks, baby," Eddie muttered, stabbing his straw on the table in front of him, wadding up the wrapper.

"You need anything else?" You asked, looking at Tony then Eddie.

"Nah, do you? Those guys still bothering you and Tasha?" Tony asked, nodding to the group of men from before.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "No, they're jackasses. Total dicks, but we're fine." You smiled, placing a hand on Eddie's shoulder, squeezing it gently. You didn't miss the way he was tight, tense against your touch.

He tensed even more when Marco got up on stage, sloppily serenading you to ACDC's 'Shook Me All Night Long' with added vulgar dance moves while he pointed at you, adding your name into the chorus lyrics. Eddie was fuming.

Closing time couldn't come soon enough. The love birds and broken hearted left as easily as they came, the miracle of holidays. You and Tasha finished your closing duties, laughing and scoffing while you exchanged stories from the night. Eddie and Tony helped you, tidying up the place, but Eddie didn't have his usual charm. He wasn't cracking jokes, flexing his muscles and exaggeratedly saying 'what he woulda done if he wasn't on the clock'. He was distant, quiet, even with you.

By the time the two of you walked out, your arms looped around his leather clad arm, his mind was reeling. "...I made a lot of tips tonight." You grinned excitedly to him. "It was a pretty good night actually. I thought we'd be dead on Valentine's Day, but I've got enough in tips tonight to pay my rent for the month!"

Eddie huffed, furiously starting the engine to the van. "Yeah, that's great." He muttered. "With how you were actin' tonight, 'm not surprised."

You faltered, eyes furrowing a bit. "Ed, what're you talking about?" You asked. He shook you off, peeling out of the parking lot furiously. "Hey, look at me, are you," You squinted, studying his features. "Are you jealous?"

You couldn't help the little grin that formed on your lips when you asked, eyes lighting up mischievously. Eddie huffed. "'M not jealous." He snapped. "Just fuckin' hate it when you entertain those douchebag guys." He snarled.

You snorted, smugly crossing your arms. "You're jealous." You declared. "Honestly, Eddie, do you really think I give a shit about those guys?"

"You sure act like you do." Eddie bit, eyes flashing over to you. "Takin' shots and talkin' all sweet to 'em. No wonder he sang that shit to you, and you were laughing-"

"-Because he looked like an idiot." You laughed. "Tasha and I we're making fun of him. Everyone was laughing at him." Eddie huffed, a pouty, childish huff that left you grinning.

"They're complete and utter assholes that are good tippers, Eddie. I am repulsed by them, honestly. They're so gross and creepy, and I'm actually a little insulted that you would think they're my type." You snipped, eyeing him carefully.

Eddie's lips pressed together, not necessarily mad but thinking. You leaned closer to him, arms wrapping around his torso, pressing kisses to the exposed, ink skin of his biceps. "Baby, please, you can't seriously think I'd be into them." You said, looking up at him with rounded eyes.

"Just don't like it 's all." Eddie muttered. "Don't like it when they say that kinda shit to you." His fists clenched on the wheel, knuckles whitening. Your heart fluttered.

You hummed, pushing a stray hair behind his ear, tucking it and trailing your finger lightly down his jaw. "Don't be upset, please?" You asked. "It's Valentine's Day."

"That was technically yesterday." Eddie grumbled looking at the clock on his dash, the time read 3:02 a.m.

You sighed dramatically, pulling back so you sat in your seat. "Oh, guess I wore this for nothing then." You said, with a small shrug, looking out the window.

You felt Eddie's eyes on you. "Wore your work uniform?" Eddie snorted.

Your eyes flashed at him, biting back a smile. "No-o," You sing-song, batting your eyes at him. "What's under it, silly." You teased.

You'd been more than happy to show Eddie once you got back to his trailer, his mood lightening severely with the reveal. You'd kneeled on the edge of his bed, pink hearts smattering the see through material of the bra and panties, leaving very little the imagination.

Eddie dropped to his knees when he saw you, hands roaming all over your waist, legs, hips, squeezing and grabbing at anything he could, eyes wide and mouth watering. You looked like an angel, an angel he was about to ruin.

He didn't taken your panties off the whole night. He licked you right through the thin material until they were completely soaked from you and him. He'd pulled your bra down under your tits, so they were pushed up and presented for him while he sucked bruises into the delicate skin, marking you completely.

When he did fuck you, after you were writing and begging under his touch, he was relentless. Pounding you into the sheets until you couldn't even utter a sound, moans and gasps caught in your throat, tears streaming down your face.

"Yeah? You like that, don't you?" Eddie asked, hand cracking down on your upturned ass, gripping the skin as he pounded into you. "Like being fucked like the little slut you are, don't you?"

You drooled into the sheets, tears and saliva mixing into the pool beneath you. Eddie was fucking you with vigor, much more than you expected after a late night, busy shift. Your legs shook, clamping around him again with a small whine.

"Aw, you gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, huh?" Eddie cooed mockingly towards you.

Your eyes rolled back, crying when you came, then gasping when he yanked your hair back, pulling you up so you were flush against him, one arm around your torso, the other tweaking your sensitive nipples.

"God, I've wanted to fuck you all night." Eddie growled in your ear. "You wore those short little shorts didn't you? Had to wear them tonight, didn't you, you little slut?"

You cried, tears leaking down your cheeks, gripping onto his wrist. You were so sensitive, every thrust of his cock felt like a jab into your belly, a blow that sent you spiraling into your white hot abyss.

"Fuck, look at you, so pathetic." Eddie sneered, gripping your jaw harshly. "Wish those guys could see you now, huh? See you crying' like this. And over what, huh? Over my dick?"

You whimpered, lip wobbling as you clenched around him. Eddie groaned, tilting his own head back. You loved it when he was mean, when he fucked you like he owned you. Eddie let you fall forward into the mattress face first, gripping your hips as he snapped his hips into yours rough and purposeful.

You gripped the sheets, clenching hard around him as he muttered behind you, bringing his hand down twice on your cheeks before cumming, buried deep into your sopping pussy.

Eddie bent at the waist, falling on top of you gently, sweaty bangs pressed to your back, pressing kisses up and down your spine. "Holy shit," Eddie breathed out, deep and slow, eyes still closed.

You whimpered when he pulled out of you, leaving you aching and empty. You cheeks were sticky with tears and smeared makeup, legs still shaking even as Eddie went to the bathroom to grab a rag and clean you.

He took his time with you after, cleaning you up slowly, pressing kisses into you cheeks, neck, down your sternum, on your legs. He wiped himself off before throwing the rag into the hamper, climbing into the bed next to you. You were pressed up into his sheets, legs over his torso, arms tangled together, sharing the assorted chocolate that Mickey had given everyone- a thank you for working the holiday.

"You like the fruit ones?" You asked, nose twisting up in disgust.

Eddie shrugged, popping the orange cream filled chocolate into his mouth. "Yeah, 's pretty good. You don't?"

You shook your head, burying yourself into his inked skin, lids heavy as he stroked your hair. "I liked the caramel ones, or the toffee."

Eddie scoffed. "Lame. Everybody likes those."

You giggled, vibrations rocking from your chest to his making him smile. Eddie looked down at you, your fingers wrapped around his sheets, lashes fluttering to fight against the sleep tugging at your eyes.

"Thank you for the roses." You yawned, looking up at him. "No ones ever got those for me before." You admitted.

"Really?" Eddie asked, you shook your head. "That's a damn shame. Glad I'm the first." He grinned, pressing a kiss to your head.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."  He whispered, feeling your body sink into his, heavy on his chest. "Maybe next year we'll get the night off, hm?"

[delta-pavonis]

Ooh, from the wip game: former mafia hob :D

I know I have posted bits and pieces of this in various places on Tumblr and Discord, but below is probably the largest segment of the WIP I have ever posted at once. And this is maybe about a quarter of it? It features an OC that I made up and then it turned out I was prescient because in my head Sandro looks pretty much exactly like Ethan from Maneskin. Also, to no one's surprise, this gets NSFW at the end. (WHAT?!? SMUT?!?!?! FROM MEEEE?!?!?!)

"And this guy, this Burgess, just had him locked in a giant glass sphere in his basement!"

"A human? Wouldn't he need air?"

Hob was in an ex-pat bar on the south end of Okinawa, doing a very good job of continuing to live completely off the grid just as he had for the past eight years.

The old man started up again and Hob strained to hear him across the length of the bar. "He just looked like a human. I worked there sixteen years and he didn't age a minute, hell he barely moved. I heard Burgess bragging once about how it was the God of Dreams that he caught! All I know for sure is what I heard directly, which is that Burgess kept asking him for things – magic, money, immortality – and the pale fucker just kept glaring at him. Never spoke a word. Just stared daggers with those unearthly blue eyes. I am telling you, if looks could kill, that old bastard would be dead thirty times over. Whenever that fairy King or whatever the fuck that shaved panther of a human-looking thing is gets out…" The guy whistled, leaning back from the bar and shaking his head. "The entire Burgess family tree is going to burn."

This man had Hob’s full attention now. He grabbed his drink and moved around to sit on the barstool next to him. 

"I am sorry, where did you say you are from?" Hob asked, trying for casual, sizing up the ex-military guy. He had a muddled accent, but with a heavy dose of south London. His salt-and-pepper hair had been kept buzzed even though he had clearly been out of the service for a long time. 

"What's it to you?" The man was immediately bristly, crossed his arms over his chest. He was defensive and closed off and Hob was going to need to work to get more information. Hob sighed. Or take the easy way out… just pay him for the information.

The Okinawan summer was too hot for this. Hob would give it one shot, try to explain, but if that didn't work it was Plan E for Easy. "I have an interest in the supernatural. And you certainly seem to have seen something. Could I ask you a few more questions?" The old-timer just stared at him, completely deadpan, unblinking. It made Hob take a sip of his whisky with its melted ice and then press the glass to his temple. "I can pay you for your time."

He perked up immediately after that.

> > > > > | | < < < < <

Two days later – and after an exchange of enough money to set that old-timer’s family up for generational wealth – Hob was settling into his Business Class seat on the long haul from Tokyo Haneda to Rome Fiumicino. He tapped out an email telling Gio his flight to Palermo was going to get in at 08:20 and would he be so kind as to send around a car? He needed to stop and see il Barone first (because his knee was bad enough as it was without getting kneecapped for failing to pay his respects) and then straight to the grotta. And make sure the shovel is in the car? Grazii.

It was his Stranger. It had to be. The description was uncanny. And the quick sketch Hob had drawn on a bar napkin had resulted in a rather emphatic positive identification.

And even if it wasn’t his Stranger, there was something being kept in that basement that probably needed rescue. There were paltry few things in the world, as Hob had learned over the centuries, that deserved to have their freedom completely taken from them.

Almost 22 hours after sending that email to Gio, Hob stepped out into the salty Mediterranean air of Palermo and sighed. His white linen three-piece suit with light blue shirt fit the aesthetic of the region as much as the weather. The smells, the breeze, the sounds – yeah, okay, Hob had missed it. But this was no time to linger. Focus, Hob! First, he had to give his regards to Salvatore and then he could go dig up his stash from his time in the Family Business. He put on his hat and dark sunglasses and walked out into the sunlight.

In the aftermath of 1889 Hob had, unsurprisingly, a lot of anger and frustration to work out. He ended up falling back on a reliable skill set he hadn't tapped in awhile: violence. 

It was bare knuckle boxing first, which earned him enough money to leave for the States without disturbing his securities in the UK. He continued with underground boxing for a bit, because he was fucking good at it, until he got noticed. 

Hob got picked up by Giuseppe “the Clutch Hand” Morello and Ignazio “the Wolf” Lupo and the rest was history. 

First they took him in as a base-level associate, just another meatheaded guy who could fuck people up for them. And he made it to the Castellammarese War, which was as good a time as any to fake his own death. 

But, by pure happenstance and a whole lot of luck, Salvatore D’Aquila caught him in the act, pig's blood everywhere, mutilated body that clearly wasn't Hob at his feet and well. That had required a bit of explaining. Explaining lead to talking, talking lead to negotiating, and suddenly Hob was heading upstate to train with the best.

And so it was, with some excellent mentorship on handling firearms and his innate knack for getting himself out of trouble, Hob became one of the most feared associates in Cosa Nostra. 

In fact, he became The Associate. 

See, he was never going to be a made man; he didn't have the proof of a Sicilian, or even Italian, heritage that he needed to be a ranking Family member. But any capo worth his salt wasn't going to turn away this level of skill and finesse. 

And in return they had kept his secret. Mostly because they knew they had given him the means to kill them all if it was otherwise.

Well, it wasn’t like the entire Family knew. Just Salvatore and his immediate blood relations. Who he needed to stop and say hello to first, then to business.

Once the meeting was done, he headed to the coast. 

When Hob left the Family Business he had literally put all of his gear into an air-tight oak box and buried it. One of the things Hob had learned over the centuries was that, more often than not, symbolism mattered. So it wasn't a surprise to find that when Hob opened the wooden box with a crowbar it was like seeing good friends come back from the dead. His shotgun. His sabre. His pistols. 

He buried these along with his career in Cosa Nostra in 1998. It should have been earlier, but the six or so years after 1989 were a bit of an alcohol and cocaine tinted haze and it took him another three years after getting sober to work on his exit strategy. But once he was out he had abandoned it all and never looked back.

In fact, it was only in the past few months that Hob had let himself pick up a gun again to do some target shooting. Suddenly he was very glad of that coincidence.

After filling his duffle Hob stared down into the empty casket of his former life. He had never, ever expected to be in this position again, most certainly not less than a decade after abandoning it. 

Crouched amongst the sand and the rocks of the beachfront cave, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. "The things I do for you, Stranger." He closed the lid. 

"Ti Umbra?" Sandro had been watching Hob silently up until now. Even as a little kid, Alessandro had called the thing that haunted Hob his Shadow. He was an eerily perceptive child, often ostracized from his peers because of it – which of course meant that when Hob had arrived in Sicily in the early 1980s they had become easy friends. Now in his early 30s, Sandro was mostly a driver, but knew his way around a weapon, as any son of a Don should. Hob had hoped he would leave, go to college, get out, but Hob never did convince him to. He was a good kid, he didn't deserve this kind of life. 

"Si." Hob put his hands on his knees and levered himself up. "I think that he needs my help." A sigh as he kept staring at the box. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, Bettino." The nickname had come from the diminutive of the diminutive of Roberto, which Sandro’s family knew Hob as. It was an endearment used only between them. "Only He could bring you back to this, to the Family." Hob felt the other man's hand on his shoulder and laid his own over it. The feel of those fingers was achingly familiar. "Let me come with you. You should not go on the rampage you are about to embark on alone, my friend."

Hob picked up Sandro's hand, placed a kiss on the knuckles. "Not a chance. I won't put you in such danger. And I won't let you see me like that." Alessandro hadn’t even been born yet when the Associate was working hardest, in the heydays of Murder, Inc., and all that entailed, when Hob rarely had a night when he wasn’t washing the gunpowder from his hands.

Sandro laughed. "I have seen you every other way, why not this one?" His arms went around Hob's shoulders from behind and he moved his lips to the shell of Hob's ear before dropping into Sicilian. "One more go at it? For old time's sake? Last chance to use me as His stand-in." He laughed even more at Hob's sharp inhale. "You think I didn't know? Oh, Bettino." He nuzzled into the hair at Hob’s nape. "That's how I was able to pretend you really loved me."

"Sandro!" Hob pushed away and whirled around, looking over his former lover’s dark hair and olive-bronze skin, high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, wiry build and black-brown eyes. Not wanting to misspeak, he answered back in English. "I did – and still do – really love you, you know that."

"Yes, but not as you love Him." Sandro shook his head as he moved in to press their foreheads together, arms back around Hob's shoulders. "You would not come back to the Family for me. You would not go to war for me. And that is okay. I know my place. I made my peace with that years ago, when you left." He leaned in to speak against Hob's lips. "But I would ask if you would have me one last time." 

Hob let Sandro pull him to the ground amongst the rocks inside the small cave. Hob's shirt and vest were already discarded, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He unbuttoned Sandro's shirt and pulled it down so it caught in his elbows, draped down his back low enough for Hob to run his lips over the huge tattoo of Santa Rusulia – Patron Saint of Palermo, invoked for protection in times of plague – wearing a crown of roses and standing amidst a copse of lilies outside a cave not so different from the one they are currently in, looking out to the sun setting over the sea, that covered his entire back. Hob drew that image, originally charcoal on paper, while they were sitting on the beach watching the sun set on Sandro's 19th birthday in the early ‘90s. He didn't know that Sandro had even saved the picture until a shootout a year later had Hob ripping off the young man’s shirt to stop the bleeding and found the image permanently inked into his skin. 

Sandro knew more about Hob than anyone living. They had spent four years as lovers in the mid-'90s. Hob had gotten sober for Sandro. He had left Cosa Nostra for Sandro, had begged for Sandro to come with him. But he was too scared of his father, Salvatore “the Baron,” to leave. He was worried about the fate of his mother, his sisters. Hob couldn’t begrudge him that. It still stung.

Hob shucked Sandro's pants down his thighs and moved his hand around to his ass, thinking that he would tease him dry before trying to find something slick back in the car. Instead, Hob's fingers found warm, flat silicone. He slumped forward with a moan and his forehead hit between Sandro's shoulder blades. "Oh fuck, Sandro. You have been full with this the entire time?"

"Ready for you, Bettino." He sighed, soft and sweet as candy. He let out a high-pitched cry as Hob slowly pulled the plug out and Christ it was huge Hob would be able to just…

There was a thmpt as the silicone object hit the dense sand a few feet away, flung aside as Hob frantically tried to get his slacks down as quickly as possible. As soon as his cock was free Sandro's hands were reaching back to grab it, lubricant that the horny little weasel must have been carrying in his bloody pocket smeared all over his fingers, readying Hob to just…

Sandro sat back and Hob slid into him to the hilt, all in one stroke, easy as breathing, smooth and perfect. 

They stayed that way for a long moment, readjusting to each other. The first movement was Hob's hands stroking from Sandro's thighs up to his chest then pressing them together. When they started rocking Sandro let his head fall back with a sob. 

"Did you keep your hair long for me, too?" Hob wrapped the waist-length ponytail around his fist and tugged. It made Sandro moan just as sweetly as it had all those years ago. "That's it, sing for me, bell'uccellino." He snapped his hips up and Sandro wailed; he always was such a vocal lover, his pretty bird.

[margareth-lv]

Mi piacciono molto i tuoi post così ironici, intelligenti ed esplicativi. Non stancarti. Anche da me , che ti conosco solo qui, in questo angolo meraviglioso del fandom, tantissimi auguri di un sereno e gioioso Compleanno.

Cara mia, non avrei mai pensato che i miei post fossero ironici 😉! Grazie per le tante belle parole che hai scritto. E grazie mille di cuore per gli auguri!

Ora, se vuoi scusarmi, continuerò in Inglese. Quello che funziona meglio per me in italiano è ordinare l'Aperol Spritz.

*** *** *** And now for the translation:

@findanserwers : I really enjoy your posts, so ironic, intelligent and explanatory. Don't tire yourself out. Also from me, who only know you here, in this wonderful corner of fandom, many happy and joyful birthday wishes.

@me : My dear, I never thought my posts were ironic. Thank you for the many kind words you have written. And thank you for the birthday wishes!

Now, if you don't mind, I'll continue in English. What works best for me in Italian is ordering the Aperol Spritz. *** *** *** ... and let me go on. In the unfunny circus show our two lovebirds are putting on for us once again, only deeper reflection can save us from the madness. The community we are creating here is of real value. Love, the deep feeling between two people, is the foundation of this community. And we know this feeling is real! The feelings that unite us are also real, even though we are separated by space, languages, habits and mentalities. Sisters, let's keep our faith in the sincerity and purity of what we've seen for so many years! Even if we're shown once again a succession of muscular blondes and still the same Ghost Rider from Transylvania with a grim face, we must believe in the goodness of love!

I propose a toast to all of us: Freedom and whisky, could be Sassenach.

Dear Shippers, slàinte mhath to us all!

Have a great weekend!

[10 May, 2024]

[oceansssblue]

100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 8. PIRATES AU

HUNTER/F READER 💖💔🔥

WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS WOMAN, MENTIONED DEATH OF A PARENT. SEX SCENE (NOT VERY EXPLICIT, MORE SENSUAL&SUGGESTIVE).

Note: This came out to be so long! Just so you have an idea, it's 30 pages of word doc. I'll divide it in chapters in this same post so you can continue with your reading easier if you need to do it in more than one go. Don't worry about the warnings, this is mostly adventure with fluff and just a tiny sprinkle of angst (happy ending and all). Upgraded Hunter to Captain. On another note, only 4 more prompts left for the 100celeb! Enjoy and please let me know what you've thought. Reblog if u can! XX, Blue :)

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1. The Deal

The stench of alcohol would have been overwhelming if you hadn't been living in this kind of atmosphere your whole life. It makes the air around you feel charged and warm; clinging to the old wood of the chairs, tables, and countertops alike. The crowd is loud and roars with fits of laughter; a fight or two breaking in the corner of the bar. You don't spare them a second glance. If you had been a proper lady, all of this might have scared you away; but no, you're no lady. You're a pirate.

You feel at home in places like this. There's drunk men, yes, and dangerous ones; but you've never felt more alive than surrounded by fellow pirates. There's freedom, banter, and songs so ancient everybody is able to sing along. Even the sporadic fights are a reminder that you're all human; that you get angry and make mistakes with consequences. Sometimes those in a position of power don't even look like one; just empty carcasses dolled up with pretty dresses and jewelry that somehow have learned how to move and talk. All practiced, meaningless smiles and repetitive conversation. This is nothing like it.

You're enjoying all of this while being alone and silent in the far end of the counter, perched up on one of the chairs. A patron or two have attempted a conversation with you tonight; though a quick, cold side glance has been enough to shoo them away. You're not a conversationalist; and you're on one of those melancholic moods today. Memories of your father and your youth fleets by your mind; like gusps of wind you can never catch. Still, even when distracted and lost in thoughts from a life time ago, a part of you is always vigilant; cataloguing changes in your surroundings and possible dangers. It's the reason why you hear the almost imperceptible change of the crowd straigthening their backs and their voices changing to a wary, expectant tone. Footsteps; a lazy, slow spring, light and cautious in it's feet. Ready to fight -or flee-.

You don't turn around to acknowledge the newcomer. For others it may seem like you don't even care for who approaches you or what could he want from you; perhaps it even makes you look arrogant and overconfident. But oh, you are paying attention; and even if your posture seems relaxed and nochalant with your back still facing the crowd –the aproaching stranger– the hand carefully positioned over the knife hidden in your left boot is perfectly ready to strike.

The footsteps come to a halt right behind you. The atmosphere in the bar turns tense. It must be someone of importance, to make the crowd react like that. If it weren't, people would have just continued laughing and drinking.

"You're hard to find".

Cryptic. It's a peculiar voice; you'll give him that. Deep and slightly raspy, though somehow smooth and warm at the same time. A bit of an incongruence. You know a lot about that.

You take a slow, long gulp of your whisky before answering; your index playing with the rim of the glass.

A hint of amusement slips into your answer. You can't help but play –just enough– with danger; you've always been like that.

"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".

He hums, not impressed with your comeback. Your ears pick up the sound of the man dragging the closest chair towards you. The tone of his voice –relaxed but quietly carefull– doesn't change while he sits down.

"That would be a bit ironic, considering who I am".

You've played with the moment long enough. You glance at the man sitting next to you; eyes quickly cataloguing his hard facial features, long hair, strong shoulders and trim waist. With that half-tattoed face of his and the red bandana across his forehead, he's hard not to place.

"Ah" your lips turn up in a tiny smile. "Captain Hunter, famous treassure-seeker and leader of the misterious Marauder. Yes, that would be quite the joke".

You can't help but feel in danger –and curious– being this close to him. This man is one of the most well-known pirates on this side of the Five Seas; you'd grown up at the same time the stories of the Fett brothers had grown as well. They were said to be eight; along a longer list of cousins and other distant relatives. Some had tried to join their crew under the pretense of being one of them; but their physical similarities were a dead give away. If there was a Fett around you, you just knew. They had the same bone structure, a sort of sharpness to their features, and brown or amber eyes that rooted you in place. There was no need to question it.

You've watched members of the Fett family here and there –some in bars you frequented, some walking across the harbor, a few even taking their pleasure with a lady in the protection of a dark alley at night–, but you've never once talked to one of them. There's always a first, you guess.

"To what do I owe the honor, then?" You ask, feigning desinterest though this is the most exciting thing that has happened to you in the last three months.

The pirate scans you in silence. You understand the flush the Fetts often pull from the ladies; he's got one hell of a stare. It takes all the years you have facing oponents for you to not squirm.

"I'm sure you've heard something around" he finally starts, his eyes turning to scan the crowd. "I'm planning to start a new adventure soon, all the way up to the North Sea. I'm looking for recruits".

You arch an eyebrow, not fooled by his vague explanation. You don't like when people do that on purpose; it means there's always things to hide.

"I thought you boys didn't let any stranger join your little family club" you answer, almost teasingly.

He looks back at you. He gives you a single word.

"Exactly".

It's heavy and full of meaning. He's pointing out you're no ordinary stranger; admiting that you're somewhat special. You're not gonna' lie; it strokes your ego a bit, even if you don't let that distract you.

"You need me" you realise with a smirk. That's the only reason he'd allowed you to join them. You must have something he can't find in nobody else. But what would that be? "Why?"

The pirate shrugs. So quiet, so misterious. You're intrigued.

"I hear you were born in Ionia. It would be useful, having a guide through the dangers of the North Sea. It's dangerous waters".

Your smirk widens.

"Mm, you've heard" you mock almost in a singing voice. "So you've studied me. Not many know I was born there. Ionia is too far away from here for anyone to cross-check".

Hunter's lips curve upwards in a faint smile.

"You're right with that. There are a lot of different and often oposite stories about you".

You hear the rest of the sentence even if he doesn't say it out loud; who knows which ones are true.

You fully turn your body towards him.

"And which one brought you to me?"

You'll say yes. He probably knows that too; you're not one to turn down a good adventure, and it would be a heck of one to be able to work with the Fetts.

You still want to have all the information before you accept.

"I admit all of them were pretty interesting" Hunter says, fingers tapping against the wood of the counter. "But there's only one that makes you unique".

It's involuntary; the way your face adjusts to a new proud and understanding smile.

"You need a diver" the puzzle slowly starts to make sense. "What treassure are you trying to find this time, Captain?"

Hunter's dark chocolate eyes sparkle with interest. He might be a feared pirate; but in his heart he's still a child dreaming of magic and fairytales, like all good pirates are. Like yourself.

"It's going to be a long journey. I need a diver that can hold their breath for at least twenty minutes underwater. There's only one place in the North Sea where I'd need a skill like that".

You find the last missing piece.

"The caves of Ilum" you realize, your own eyes brightening in wonder. "You're trying to find the Moon Kyber cristal".

It was your favorite story growing up; how a group of trained soldiers named "the Jedi" had learnt to canalyse the energy residing in a special mineral and used it to improve their fighting style. They were said to be extinguished –decimated in a great war in the Old Times–, and that the last of their kind had hidden his Moon Kyber cristal somewhere in the cold North Sea, burried in one of the Ilum caves. Pirates and sailors had tried to find it for centuries, desperate to fill their pockets with money or their hands with power; others, for the simple pleasure of owning a piece of history. But the Moon Kyber had never been found; soon forgotten in memories and often brushed aside as tales.

"And you're what, going to send me to explore each posible underwater cave you find?" You ask, wary about the execution of his plan.

He remains calm and unbothered.

"We could try it that way, but it would take us a bit too long for my taste. I've already done my work and I know exactly where to navigate" before you've had the chance to ask, he's already sending you a warning glance. "And I'm obviously not telling you. Can't risk you trying to get it on your own or giving the information to someone else".

You sigh in resignation.

"You want me to make a blind jump. To trust you. That all of this is true and I'm going to be safe in a ship full of men I know nothing about".

He answers with a single, final word.

"Yes".

You hum in thought. You don't. You don't trust him; and you don't trust you'd be safe with the crew of male strangers either. Perhaps he wants you to bring the cristal to him –if it exists– and then he'll get rid of you to enjoy the reward alone. Perhaps this is all a story and he needs you for something else. Who knows, he might even want to hand you to someone else for some sort of revenge. No matter. You'll be alert and you'll come out if this clean.

You make up your resolve and tilt your chin up at him.

"I'm asuming you'll sell the kyber and make a fortune from it" you point out, then state with a firm voice. "I want a third of the price".

Hunter snorts; the first real, uncontrolled reaction you pull from him.

"I have seventy men on board and you want a whole third of the reward. A bit ambitious, don't you think?"

You shrug. Negotiating is part of being a pirate. You know it's too much to ask, but it's just a start.

"Like you said, my skill is unique. We both can't get the Kyber without the other. You know where it is and I'm the only one able to get it. Good luck trying to find someone who can hold their breath for twenty minutes and swim in those freezing waters at the same time".

Hunter tries to make you back down with his stare and his silence; but you don't waver, and you defiantly stare back at him.

The pirate clenches his jaw once.

"Twenty-five percent" he conceeds.

You grin. You don't think this man is the type to soldier through an extense negotiation; and you're not in the mood for that yourself. You might have tried to go for a thirty percent some other time; but you'll consider it as a victory this once.

"Deal" you nod.

The Captain and you shake hands.

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2. Nightmares brought to life

You wake up to the king of your nightmares. You haven't seen Commodoro Palpatine in eight years; but he still manages to evoke the same feeling inside of you. Terror, anger, fear, pain. He's the one that killed your father eleven years ago; the reason why you're covered in scars you haven't allowed anyone to see.

"Hello, my dear" he smiles, a crooked, cold thing. "I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure to meet you again".

His fingers graze your shoulder while he walks around you like a vulpture waiting for the poor hurt animal to exhale his last breath; sending goosebumps through your skin.

You clench your fists; unable to tear yourself from his touch with the tight restraints they've put you in. The last thing you remember was walking outside of the tabern to get some sleep. You don't remember receiving any blow to your head, so it's possible they may have slipped a drug to your drink.

"What do you want from me?" You spit out, trying to hide your fear beneath a layer of ire.

Commodoro Palpatine laughs almost in delight.

"Straight to the point, I see" you hate the way he talks, so falsely sweet. "You've made a deal with a certain Captain lately. I want to make you a deal as well".

At this point in your life, his extense list of spies doesn't surprise you. You haven't seen him in eight years because he hasn't wanted to; not because he couldn't. It's the problem about him; he has everyone under his radar with promises of money, threats, and power.

"What deal?" You ask him directly, skipping the show of you trying to resist to his wishes. Better get this over with.

"You'll go on your little trip with Captain Hunter. You'll get the Moon Kyber for him, and once you return to land, you'll hand it to me".

You scoff, voice coming out in irritated muttering.

"And what makes you think I won't flee with it?"

Palpatine's dark smile could kill death itself.

"There's two things pirates always look for, my dear. Credits... And treasures" he finally shows you the small object that he has been hiding in his hand this whole time, an old pendant you recognise well. It belonged to your father –before he gave it to you in your eight birthday–; Palpatine must have teared it from you the day he tortured you and killed him.

Your body tingles in pain with the memory; your heart clenches. Even for pirates, credits don't have enough value compared to a few handfull of things. Your late father's pendant is one of yours. You need it.

For the second time in the week, you say the word again.

"Deal".

The emotions inside of you are vastly different.

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3. A girl versus a crew of men

The Marauder is everything you have ever imagined it would be. The ship is beautiful; dark wood and scarlet sails, with it's three mastils standing tall and a sharp bow to cut into the sea. The crew is as you expected it to be too; fierce and diligent, paired with a common distrust towards the new recruit -you–. On the first day, Captain Hunter gives them orders to let you be; though it does little to stop the glares and sneers as you move through the ship.

It doesn't matter. They'll get used to your presence; you all have a long trip up to the North Sea.

You can't help but feel excited. It's been a decade since you last stepped in home. You'd escaped Ionia with your father in an attempt to hide from Palpatine; and while Corus is full of dark memories and loneliness, you still keep a fond memory of Ionia. Of long dips in the water and a time when everything felt safe, easier. You know your return won't feel the same –not without your father by your side–; but you still long to see the white coast and it's dark, almost black waters. You've always find that to be a beautiful contrast.

You don't let Hunter out of sight. As weeks pass by, you can't help but make a habit of observing him. You're curious; and you still don't trust him. The wariness starts to dissapear with time; but it's a residue that always stays no matter how hard you scrub.

Hunter is as fierce as the rest of his men. Frown set and jaw tense, he barks orders around no-one dares to give a second glance. The ship advances so fast that you start to think that the way to the North won't take as long as you'd originally thought. It's a well oiled machine; his words are actions inmediately carried by his crew. There's a special kind of relationship between this men; Hunter might be their leader, and there might be a clear hierarchy, but they act so in sync and hold such a deep respect for each other that it's hard to see the lines between their positions. You've never seen pirates move and fight like that. Perhaps that's the reason for their fame and victories; the fact that they know each other so well, the fact that they trust each other to the bone. The fact that they're family. You wonder how it would feel to have so many siblings spread around the world and never feel alone.

To your surprise, you notice your relationship with the Captain shifting as well. With each harsh encounter you face by their side against other pirates, sailors, or the dangers of the sea, he seems to relax a tiny bit more around you, giving you more freedom to move around the ship without his gaze set upon you. The night you help one of his brothers –Echo– with a deep gash on his hand, he even offers you a nod and a slight curve of his lips you catalogue as a smile.

Alcohol has always been sailors favorite method of killing time; and facing the cold and loneliness of the night. Unfortunately, it does more than soothe one's worries away; it gives men courage, which in itself is not a bad thing, but if taken too far rum loosens tongues and problems arise. The night you finally cross the border of Corus's sea into the North one, everyone is happy and excited; bottles of rum being passed around the crew, everyone sprawled lazily in deck. Hours creep in between jokes, stories and laughter; eyes growing glassy and slowly blinking sleep away. As usual, you're sitting alone close to the bowsprit; a position that allows you a perfect vision of the rest of the ship. You're still close enough to hear them –since they're not bothering in whispering anyways–.

"Shut up, di'kut" one man playfully punches another's arm. "You're probably gonna' spend all your credits in a woman when we get back".

Everyone laughs and snickers, and the pirate in question shrugs with a radiant grin.

"You would understand why if you'd had experienced the warmth and pleasure that comes from being buried between a woman's legs. One day, vod" he rises his rum and takes a long gulp from the bottle.

The crowd roars in laughter, and the first man's cheeks light up in an embarassed red.

"Not my fault all the woman we happen to come across are whores, Blades" he mutters, as the chuckles slowly die around them. "I prefer to save my earnings for other things. And to save myself from who-knows-what disease".

The one named Blades smirks and doesn't let him go that easily.

"Well, you have a pretty pirate right there" he points at you with a jerk of his chin. "Why don't you try your luck with that one, mm?"

All eyes turn to you. They roam up and down your figure, considering the pirate's words. Like they've suddenly remembered you're a woman. And you're here, with them. The man Blades is taunting hesitates; but eventually nods tersely, and stands up to make his way towards you.

A shiver spreads through your spine. Though you don't think they'll try anything as a collective –not under Hunter's command– you can read the hunger in their eyes. This men have never been your friends –you're aware of that–, but neither have they acted as enemies. Now, though, you feel surrounded by sharks.

Even if your heart speeds up and emotions clash inside of you, you keep your breathing under control, casting your eyes downwards in order to look distracted and ocupied. You listen to his stumbling footsteps approaching you. Your left hand carefully moves towards your ankle, where you keep a blade cinched to it and covered by the fabric of your boot; waiting for the perfect second to move.

"Hey, gorgeous" he starts his line once he's just a step away from you, towering over your sitting position. "How about you and me go to have some fun below deck?"

"No, thanks" you answer feigning boredom, ears and corners of your vision still trained on him and the rest of the men avidly watching the interaction behind him.

He makes a disaproving sound with his tongue.

"Ah, come on, girl" he keeps trying, growing nervous at the thought of the rest of the crew watching his defeat. "Don't be a prude..."

He goes to grab your shoulder, but you're way faster than him. You swipe his legs of the floor with a quick strong movement of yours; and you're holding the blade to his neck in a blink. He's too stunned to say anything –watching you with wide eyes–; but the rest of the crew inmediately straightens up ready to defend him.

"The answer is no" you insist, voice low and dangerous, finally retracting your weapon and standing up and away. "Now I sugest you return to your place".

He does it without uttering a single word, perhaps still shocked from the surprise. Everyone seems to be. Surprised and wary. Perhaps your reaction has been a little too much; but once again, you're alone in a ship full of strangers –strangers that could turn on you in an unfair fight you'd had almost unexisting chances of winning–, and you need to send a message. You're no-ones plaything. And no one is going to touch you unless you want them to.

You sit back down quietly as well, studying the crowd in case of another altercation. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. There are some insults being spat under their breath and some whispering; but no one picks up another fight. Your eyes eventually find Hunter; who is standing up and watching the situation in front of the Foremast. He's tense –though you're not sure who exactly is he angry with–; and when his eyes bore into yours, your scars itch uncomfortably under your shirt. You tilt your chin up at him.

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4. Warm up

The Marauder is more or less two weeks away from the caves of Ilum. You can't help but feel a sort of peace as you stare into the horizon; an orange sun melting into black waters, setting everything on fire. It's beautiful. The air is already so much colder; though you know it's nothing compared to how freezing the North Sea is.

When the sun is completely extinguished and there's no longer light to guide the Marauder through the rocky coast of Ionia, Hunter gives the order to rest for the night. The crew bunkers down below deck –hiding from the cold– and you use the rare oportunity of being completely alone to take a quiet swim.

It's not that you're enthusiastic about going into the freezing waters at night. But it's been a few years since you did a long dive, and it's a good idea to start gaining a bit of practice. Your body needs to get used to moving in the North Sea again. It's not an easy task.

You carefully lower yourself on one of the boats until you touch the surface of the water. It's so black it acts like a perfect mirror under the moonlight; your eyes staring at your reflection without a clue of what could be hiding underneath. You try the temperature sinking a hand on the sea. Goosebumps inmediately rises on your skin.

Boots on and everything –any layer of clothing helps– you slowly leave the boat and dissapear under the water, teeth inmediately pressing against each other in an effort to cope with the paralising cold. It's almost as if it grips each one of your muscles and locks them in place, trying to drown you.

You get used to it for a few minutes first; then, your hands leave the edge of the boat. You close your eyes and remain floating with the minimum effort; legs gently moving to keep you close to the surface from time to time.

You train in a progression, just like you learnt when you were a kid. You first hold your breath for five minutes; then you do a dip of ten, then fifteen. When you come up for air again, you take another fifteen to rest. Although the water is freezing cold, your wet clothes and the wind makes the return to the sea for one last dive feel almost like a relief.

Twenty minutes gives you a lot of time to think. Your mind does a slow review of this last month in the Marauder; whatever you've happened to learn about members of it's crew, of Hunter. He's closest to other four pirates; Wrecker, Tech, Echo and Crosshair. They seem to be even more in sync than the rest. You notice they're the most different appearance-wise as well; perhaps that's what pushed them together, or maybe they have just known each other the longest.

You also think of Palpatine and your father. It doesn't sit well with you, hiding this second deal to the captain of the Marauder; but you have little choice. Palpatine wouldn't have let you go if you had refused; and you know he'll be waiting for your return. You'll find a way to fool him; but until you do, you'll keep that secret close to your heart. Who knows what would happen to you if Hunter or any of the Fetts discovered it...

Stress evaporates underwater. Your mind eventually empties; you're part of the sea. Time vanishes too.

You wake up from your trance with your lungs burning. You're forced to break the surface of the water; inmediately taking a quick breath of air in. Your head pounds; but you close your eyes and calm your agitated body down, anchoring your elbows to the boat and letting out a tired, panting sigh. Each gulp of air hurts for the first few seconds; until you regulate your breathing again. Exhausted and shivering –you really should get to warmth now–, you use what little strength you have left to pull yourself over into the boat and then lift it up to deck again.

Completely exhausted and curved forward with both of your hands resting against your knees, you don't even notice him until he speaks; his calm voice startling you and making you stand up straight again.

"You could have died and nobody would've even known".

His dark chocolate eyes are set on yours. This time, the surprise brought up by his unexpected presence makes them look innocent and young.

Water dripping onto the deck and clothes stuck to your skin, your answer comes out in a whispered shiver.

"That would have been really tragic" you agree, hugging your own body in a futile attempt to warm yourself up. "You'd never get to see your Kyber".

Hunter's lips and throat moves as if to speak; but then he stays in silence, observing you quietly with that intimidating stare of his. You can usually ignore it, but this time you feel the need to break the tension.

"I was getting myself used to this waters again. It's been eleven years since I was last in Ionia. I have a natural skill for diving and holding my breath, which I've been training since I was a kid, but believe it or not, I still need a bit of aclimatising".

"And you decided to do your first try at night without warning anyone".

You give him a shrug and a guilty smile.

"I can't really practice while the ship is moving, so it had to be at night... And I don't like others watching" it slips out.

Hunter hums. His eyes flicker down towards your collarbone, and you suddenly realise that with your loose shirt sticking to your skin, the very first of your scars is now visible. You inmediately tense and pull it back to place.

He notices it, but makes no comment.

"Your skin is starting to turn blue" he points out. "You should get to warmth".

"Guess I'll have to make myself a spot between your men under deck" you chuckle, trembling. "Steal a bed roll or two".

What Hunter offers doesn't leave your head in the next few days.

"You could take my bed. I can always bunker with Tech" the pause between the two of you is long, perhaps because you're both shocked by his words, and Hunter continues in an effort to downplay his sugestion. "We can't have you falling sick now, with no proper medics on board".

If Hunter's words surprises you, perhaps your answer shocks him as well.

"You could always stay".

There's a million of thoughts and emotions roaming in those dark eyes. For a moment, you think he'll pass; but when you shiver again, his gaze turns soft, warm, and he smiles.

"Let's go inside, then".

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5. Vulnerable

It's unfair. Hunter is, to date, the best sex you've had; and it's difficult not to want a repeat of that night when you see him everyday, and you're both trapped in the same ship in the middle of the sea. Maybe that's why you can't tear your eyes off of him; yes, the fact that he's good like that, and not the lingering doubt that you're starting to like him.

Hunter had treated you like only lovers in books did. He wasn't rough, though he certainly wasn't soft either; it was sensual, passionate, lips moving over bodies and hips joining in endless waves. You had been reduced to moan and whimpers; and you had left him breathless as well. Hunter had been particularly unselfish and considerate, mindful of your comfort and pleasure; and in a world of pirates and dangerous men, it had shocked you to your very bone. It was a bit scary, in fact; how it felt like he was undressing your every layer and pulling them apart even when you had remained hidden in most of your clothes all the time.

The tension between the two of you builds and builds while days pass; until you can't longer keep it locked inside.

You knock on his private room at night; and when he opens with an irritated expresion that quickly morphs into hunger and surprise, you all but jump him. You bite down onto his lower lip, ravenous, and he groans into your mouth; hands caressing your back before taking a firm hold on your hips and pushing you back.

"What?" You ask him, panting, face tilted up towards him.

Hunter's dark eyes scan you. Studies you; almost as if he doesn't quite understand.

You can't help yourself. You want him too bad; you're on fire, impatient, and you kiss him again when he stays in silence. He seems to forget whatever he was going to say; because he let's you push him backwards into his room, and tugs you to bed. His eyes close while you caress and kiss his body, taking his clothes off; and he only seems to come back to his right mind when you're seconds away of sinking onto his cock.

"Wait" he asks, fingertips digging into your hips while you take position over his hips.

He breathes heavily under your confused gaze; a hesitant expresion on his face. It's like he wants to tell or ask you something; but he's afraid.

You search his eyes; the hunger and eagerness, mixed with the confusion and wariness, and you suddenly understand.

"You think this is some sort of plan. A way of using you".

Hunter sighs, relieved he doesn't have to voice his worries out loud, and you answer with a dry laugh.

"And what is that plan, Hunter? Seduce my way into your heart and flee with the cristal?"

The silent is painful. It hurts; though you understand his waryness. You'd probably have thought the same had he looked for you again. The thought has crossed your mind; that doing this is dangerous, that it could complicate things. But you don't care; you're used to running the long way.

"Perhaps I'm using you" you taunt, and his eyes darken in a warning until you elaborate with a fervor you rarely let anyone see. "But to feel something other than anger, loneliness, ambition. There's no ulterior reason why I want to have sex with you. You don't trust me. And I understand. But you can".

You wait; eyes open and eager. Honest. You don't exactly know how this trip is going to end; but you've got no intentions of hurting him, and you'll try to avoid it as much as possible.

You just want to enjoy his body and affection now; feel that exhilarating pleasure again. Leave your head for a little while.

"I can try" he finally answers, taking a deep breath. His fingers take hold on the edge of your shirt. "I want to see you this time".

You tense; it's an involuntary reaction. Hunter gently caresses your hip with one hand, patiently waiting for an answer. You can read his words in his warm eyes; "You can trust me too".

Your voice is so low and meek he has trouble hearing you.

"I've never shown them to anyone" you whisper, biting onto your lip uncomfortably.

Hunter squeezes softly. He stays quiet; letting you decide.

It's dangerous. You already see him differently than anyone else; sharing this vulnerability with him is a big step. And like him, you have trouble trusting; you don't want to get hurt.

You look at him, sprawled under you, long hair tangled in a mess and warm brown eyes staring straight at you. Gentle hands, beautiful skin. Vulnerable. Patient.

Your trembling fingers pull off your shirt; leaving you exposed to him. You tightly shut your eyes and remain inmovile on top of him; Hunter breathes out and slowly reaches a hand towards your skin.

"Who?" He asks, because it's obvious this scars haven't been made by accidents, but inflicted by someone.

You shiver.

"Palpatine".

You don't have to specify. Even if he's from Ionia, like yourself, his power and cruelty extends everywhere.

"When your father died?" He quietly questions, cautious not to push you away.

You remember he had studied you before all of this.

You give him a sad smile.

"Yeah. I foolishly wandered alone once, when we were on the run, and he captured me first. He used to play this sick game with him... Where he would cut me open and leave a trail of my blood around, for my father to search and follow like a dog. It wasn't enough to just kill him. Palpatine is a monster, and he and my father were the oldest of enemies".

And then, a confession burried deep in your soul, because you're too fierce of a pirate to be scared of anything, and more so of just one man.

"He terrifies me" you whisper.

Hunter's hands take hold of your innocent face.

"He isn't here" he soothes you, tenderly. "You're safe with me".

He kisses you, and you swallow every worry down. The "he's closer than you think", and "he'll be waiting". They're your burdens to carry; your curse. Your secret.

For now, you let Hunter kiss you and guide you onto his cock; and you surrender to pleasure and oblivion.

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6. Ilum

A whole month of nights in Hunter's bed and the heartfelt conversations afterwards, the Marauder stops in a big formation of rocks in the region of Ilum. Hunter explains to you everything he knows about this place; and then it's your turn to play.

Every single man of the crew is waiting in deck, staring at you while you're lowered on one of the boats and take a few minutes to calm down and prepare yourself.

The moment is inevitable; and you jump headfirst into the water, ignoring the biting cold and calmly starting to swim towards the rocks. You stay close to surface at first. Once your hand comes into contact with the first of the caves, you anchor yourself to the rock as best as you can and take a deep breath.

"Here goes the first dive" you think to yourself, and you start to swim straightly downwards into the depths of the sea.

The first ten minutes feel easy after this last two months of training. You try to find some sort of entrance between the rocks; but to no avail, and once your lungs start to burn, you start your way up to surface again.

Panting heavily, you make a negative sign with your finger to Hunter, who is watching among the crew from the ship, spyglass in hand; and take ten minutes to calm yourself down again.

You nod and open your eyes; swimming to the next rock and signaling you're going down again. Ten minutes of swimming downward goes; the water getting colder and the pressure on your ears bigger. It borders on painful; but you push that to a second plane and focus on your research. Your eyes follow a group of tiny yellow fishes moving towards a gap in the underside of the rock; and you wonder if the treasure could be hiding in the other side. It's wide enough that you could carefully swim through it.

There's only one way to find out.

Resolved and confident, you start swimming forward, following the trail of fishes in what you now identify as an underwater tunel. It get's progressively darker the more you advance; and your lungs start to burn, making you worry about wether if you should start your way back or continue with the dive. But then the colour of the water slightly changes; dark blue instead of black, and then ligther in what has to be... light.

You swim faster, and faster, and faster; and then, you're suddenly taking a deep, rushed breath in in what you can now identify as a cave. You've never seen anything this beautiful. Thin rays of sunglight enter through tiny spots left between the rocks; partially iluminating the cave in a faint glow. There isn't just one cristal in here; but dozens of them, all different colours and shapes, stuck all over the rocks in both the cealing and walls. They shine and sparkle. This cave really feels magical. You get lost for some minutes staring at your finding; until your eyes fall in some mineral you've never seen before.

You swim closer, one hand clinging to the rocky wall to support part of your weight; studying the sparkling cristals curiously. It's a mix between grey and blue, and the size of a finger; they look like some sort of gemstone. You know this probably isn't what you're looking for; but it doesn't mean it's not special.

You continue searching; but you're unable to find the Moon Kyber. You sigh, tired, and close your eyes. You think of the stories; the supposed origin of this cristal. The Jedi. Kybers were thought to be almost alive; the Jedi believed some could be even heard as music. That the Kybers called them; had a natural affinity with some. You're no Jedi, and you don't really quite believe all of it; but perhaps there's some truth to what you nowadays know of history.

You take a deep breath in and remain with your eyes closed; focusing on the rest of your senses. The small movement of the currents against the rocky walls; the tiny fishes swimming around. Your presence, alive and warm; picture all the other gems around you. You stay like this for a few minutes, almost in a trance; until something shines over your closed eyelids, and even before opening your eyes, you already know what you're goint to find.

It's an amber colour, much smaller than what you had imagined, and shines like there's a tiny sun, liberating energy, trapped inside the cristal's walls. Even if you're not touching it, it feels warm; in ways you can't understand. You carefully close your fingertips around it; and the cristal almost comes off of the rocky wall inmediately, like it wants to go with you. A sincere smile forms on your face.

Your eyes travel back towards the other unidentified mineral you'd found in the cave. Your mind starts to connect the dots; an idea taking shape in your head. You take two pieces of the blue-grey mineral as well; and the kyber goes into your boot while one of the blue cristals sits on top of your tongue.

Shooting one last lingering glance towards the cave, you take a deep breath; and initiate the way back.

When your head pops out of the surface of the water after almost an hour of exploration, cheers and shouts sound from the men on The Marauder. You get back onto the boat; and they pull you back onto the deck. Your breathing is shattered, exhausted, and you smile tiredly at Hunter when he inmediately steps towards you.

"Did you find it?" he asks, eyes shinning, hands coming to rest onto your shoulders affectionately.

You make a chuckling noise with your throat and open your mouth, spitting the blue cristal into the palm of your hand. Around you, there's a chorus of disgusted groans and excited whispering.

"Yeah" you laugh, pinching the beautiful shinning cristal between your fingertips. "I got it alright".

Hunter's rare smile is just as radiant as the real Kyber; which remains hidden inside of your boot when you both join each other in bed hours later.

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7. Breaking hearts

While for everyone the journey from Ionia back to Corus is one of pure hapiness and bliss, you can't help but feel melancholic; like all things are coming to an end. It's not that you'll miss The Marauder dearly; but coming to port means a possible end to your's and Hunter's relationship, and that... That you'll miss.

You catch yourself glancing up at him all the time. He notices it, and you mask it under a small smile or a teasing wink; but inside, your heart squeezes painfully. For your idea to succeed, you're going to have to betray him first. Well, you won't be really betraying him; but he'll believe so. And he has to believe it. For this to work, Palpatine has to see the hurt and pain in Hunter's eyes; the surprise and rawness of his anger and the rest of his men. It's the reason why you can't warn him. The time to soothe him will come; but first, you have to push him through despair.

You wonder if he loves you as you've come to love him. Yes, you do. It's a hard truth to accept; but it's the truth. Somewhere between liking him and growing fond of him, somewhere between melting at his rare smiles and sharing nights of pleasure and passion and the quiet conversations afterwards, the pirate had stolen another treasure, fiercely protected under numerous walls; your heart.

Sometimes you're sure he does. It's the way he looks at you; or how he grazes your hand and back. The way he shoots a glance at anyone else when he hears them speaking ill of you or how he turns protective. Even his close brothers often tease him about it. Others, his feelings seem to be burried between his own layers of distrust and nochalance; when he can't bear to show such vulnerability any longer. In those times you try to disarm him with one kiss after another one. Sometimes you suceed, and sometimes you don't; and he'll twist out of your arms to take you from behind. To escape the power of your eyes; eyes that will force him to blurt all worries and desires he isn't ready to share yet. There's still a long way for your's and Hunter's interactions to grow; but you have plenty of patience for a man like him.

The Marauder docks quietly but swiftly; it's crew happy to touch land again no matter how much they've enjoyed their adventure at the sea. Everyone rushes to enjoy their free time; The Marauder will only stock up for the night before moving elsewhere. Hunter offers you his hand in a mocking chivalrious gesture; and you accept his help laughing, entwining your fingers with him afterwards and tugging him along. Hunter chuckles quietly and follows.

"Where are we going?" he asks, lightness in his voice.

You turn to grin up at him.

"Isn't it obvious? I think we deserve something other than rum to celebrate".

Hunter smiles wider, his eyes taking that quiet warmth and softness he sometimes show when looking at you. You squeeze his hand affectionately too.

One whiskey gives way to another one; and soon you're lost again in Hunter's chocolate eyes, in how handsome he looks, how much you like him. Love him.

"Please, forgive me" you beg him in your head, memorising his features. "Please, please, please".

Palpatine irrupts in the bar three hours after you had arrived -perhaps waiting for Hunter to be inebriated, perhaps making sure none of his men would be close to help him-; followed by a flock of the Red Guard soldiers. He likes to do an entrance; and as expected, time seems to freeze with his appearance, frightened eyes and shocked expresions directed at him. Palpatine's own cold eyes inmediately find you; and Hunter -Oh, Hunter- inmediately stands up to put himself between the two of you.

You can see his tense shoulders and his jaw clench; while Palpatine looks relaxed while he shortens the distance between you.

"How lovely" his voice is that of a snake, acompanied by a cruel, dark smile. "Don't tell me you've stolen his heart too, my dear. Absolutely brilliant".

Hunter stays in place; but his eyes flicker from him to you in a mix of confusion and hope. He knows how Palpatine's words sound; he just can't believe you've done it, the thing he was afraid of from the beginning. Grow close to him only to betray him in the end. Use him.

Though surprised, Palpatine doesn't seem to be at all interested in whatever is happening between the pirate and you. He extends his hand; tone laced with sudden boredom.

"Now dear... Please, the Kyber" he asks.

This time Hunter does turn around to look at you. He looks as you push your hand into your pocket; and come up with a grey cristal. You hand it to the Commodoro.

"My fathers pendant" you demand, voice sharp and serious.

Hunter's eyes find yours; almost like he's asking if that has been the price.

Palpatine laughs.

"When you've given me the real one, dear" he points out. You knew he would.

You shoot him an irritated glance; nodding quietly and taking the blue cristal out from your breast band. Palpatine arches a brow; and examines the gemstone. It's nothing he has seen before; it shines even with no light inflection, a bright, glowing blue. Pure. It looks like it holds the sea itself. Or perhaps the moon.

Hunter makes a move to grab it; but two Corries inmediately hold him in place, Palpatine tutting condescendingly.

"Ah, ah. I believe the Moon Kyber is now mine, Captain Hunter. You should take more care of who you trust for the next time".

You can't look at him. Can't watch Hunter's face and the pain and hurt reflected on it. Everything in you is screaming to comfort him; to take his hand, to caress his hair like you do at night. You can't.

Palpatine offers you his part of the deal; and you quickly take your father's pendant of his hands, tying it up around your neck. Keeping it safe.

The man of your nightmare smiles.

"Well, it was nice to oficially meet you, Captain. I'm sure we'll see each other again" the Commodoro says, briefly nodding at him in farewell before turning towards you and gesturing to the door of the tabern in invitation. "Shall we leave now, my dear?"

You feel Hunter watching you. You want to take one last look at him before following Palpatine; but you'll break. You can't.

You take a deep breath in and walk outside the bar.

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8. A new start

A month later -one of the hardest of your life, after the loss of your father- you hear news about The Marauder docking in Kamino's port. You've been keeping an eye on Hunter in the distance; cautiously asking around and following him around the South just one carefull step behind. You'd like to have contacted him sooner; but it was too risky, considering Palpatine had yet to sell his blue cristal and he'd probably keep an eye on you as well until he had those credits in his hands. Now, though, now... Palpatine is a million credits richer; and you are free to explore the world again. Free to find him.

You know things wouldn't end well if you'd directly confronted him. He probably hates you right now; has tried to burry your memory in a pit of anger and hurt. And you understand. He might probably still resent you even after you've explained yourself; but you have to at least try.

You miss him. So much...

You send a messenger instead. It's a ten year old boy who doesn't even know who you are or who Hunter is; who doesn't know the content of the small bag he's been paid to deliver. It's safer this way.

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9. A surprise from the past

Hunter makes a silent gesture to Wrecker, and his brother let's the child pass. Wrecker -and all of his crew, really- has been particularly protective lately. Although he was just as furious and dissapointed as the rest by what had happened, his brother's love for their family would always be bigger; and thankfully, Hunter hand't had to give much of an explanation to his crew other than that the pirate girl had deceived him with the cristal. Fled.

The kid is awfully persistent, though, and he's just a kid; so Hunter receives him with a gentle but tired expression on his face. It's been weeks since he had been able to shut en eye for more than three or four hours at a time.

"I've been paid to hand this personally to you, sir" the young boy says, handing him a letter first.

Hunter guesses he has recognised him by the long hair and the bandana; or the half-tattooed face. The kid waits patiently while he opens the letter.

Hunter's mind blanks while he reads the six words scribbled on it.

"Told you; you can trust me".

No signature, no name; but he knows very well who the writer is. A girl he hasn't been able to take out of his head; one he hates and loves at the same time. Misses.

Hunter can't do anything else than to stare at the kid. The young boy nods to himself, and then hands him a small bag, almost shoving it in Hunter's hands.

"Miss will be in the last tabern of the harbour until twelve" he waits to make sure his message has been listened, and then nods again. "Good night".

The boy quickly dissapears, and Hunter is left staring at the small bag in his hands. It's very light; but somehow, Hunter knows there's something inside. He can... Feel it. It's some sort of moving energy. Alive.

He takes a deep breath; preparing himself for what he could be about to find. For possible disappointments.

He slowly opens the bag.

The cristal shines almost like it is trapping the sun inside. It's the prettiest object Hunter has ever seen before; a rich amber colour mixed with orange and gold. The different tones swirl and mix inside of the cristal's walls; it... Pumps, like a heartbeat. Calm and consistent. Warm.

A tearful smile forms on Hunter's lips. This is the Moon Kyber cristal; it's real, it exists. And it's there, right in his hands. Which therefore means she hadn't really betrayed him; just carefully played her cards. She wanted her father's pendant. It hold great sentimental value to her; even if it had hurt, he'd understand. Commodoro Palpatine had probably forced her to get the Kyber for himself; and she had been left trapped between two men that wanted her skills.

Hunter thinks of how scared she must have felt. She had explained to him the story behind her scars; carved deep all around her torso when she was nothing but a young girl. A decade later, she had still shivered and trembled when Hunter touched them; when he had tried to soothe the pain away with his hands, his lips, and his tongue. She had almost cried that first time; holding her tears if only by pure stubborness. Hunter thinks on how much stress she must have gone through; knowing what fate awaited her. He smiles realising how smart she has been; taking not just one, but two fake cristals with her from the cave as well as the real one. She'd known Palpatine would believe her to be hiding the Moon Kyber; tried to trick him. So she'd fooled them all; Hunter included, because -now he realised- she needed Palpatine to see his hurt and dispair for all of it to become real. And she had done it all in silence. And won.

Maker, he loved her. She could have kept the real Kyber to herself; and yet, she had handed it to him, maybe because... Because she loved him as well.

Hunter leaves the real kyber in Tech's capable hands and walks to the tabern; the last one in Kamino's harbour, where she awaits.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

10. Déjà vu

You're on your second whiskey when you hear the footsteps; a hand coming to rest on your back. You know who it belongs to without even looking at him; the size of it, the splayed fingers -trying to touch as much of you as he can-, the gentle presure, the emotions that somehow seeps from it.

Hunter's voice is warm and slightly raspy; your favorite combination.

"You're hard to find".

Love and happiness burst inside of you. You know what his presence here means; what that sentence means. He has forgiven you; or at least, he's willing to try.

You turn around and study him. He's... You melt under his watch. You never thought this would happen; that you'd fall in love with another pirate.

You shoot him a soft, but playfull smile.

"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".

He smiles and hums.

The End.

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