#he was thrown away into the sea :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

controld3vil · 5 months ago

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the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole.

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead.

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle.

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one.

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification.

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that.

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts.

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother.

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding.

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often.

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper.

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you.

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes.

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.”

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb.

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially.

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality.

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob.

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds.

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?”

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,”

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy.

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned.

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier.

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered.

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you.

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze.

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage.

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish.

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are.

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle.

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential.

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced.

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies.

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses.

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship.

“No,”

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply.

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying?

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects.

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,”

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly.

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.”

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover.

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen.

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city.

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another.

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face.

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king.

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure. You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this.

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself.

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire.

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome.

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.”

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes.

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you.

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted bloodshed as much as him.

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tsuutarr · 2 months ago

Text

You’re not sure how long you’ve been trapped in the water god’s temple, the presence of sunlight absent in the depths of the sea. The only light source comes from the bioluminescent algae, plankton, and animals that decorate the halls.

It’s all very pretty, but… it’s hard to get used to being stripped away from everything you’ve known and loved so suddenly. Not to mention the fact that the water god is adamant about making his presence known to you at every second. He never leaves you alone, constantly having his large hands on you as he carries you around like a trophy.

You’re honestly exhausted, your sense of autonomy fading away as your only sources of comfort are the water god and the aquatic animals that roam the temple’s halls. If it were any other situation, you’d have found the talking turtles and dolphins very cute, but you don’t find much wonder in anything nowadays.

After all, how can you have a sense of wonder when you don’t belong to yourself anymore?

Resigned to your fate, you sit on the water god’s lap as he feeds you your dinner as always.

“Pretty pet,” he hums as he forces you to chew, his large hand on your jaw. “Are you enjoying your meal?”

The silver lining is that the food here is pretty good. He surprisingly has a variety of fruits and other things you wouldn’t expect to find in the sea, but you’re not going to ask any questions. You don’t think you’ll like his answers.

Instead, you nod as best as you can while his grip is on you.

Pleased, he gives you a toothy grin, his teeth sharp and edged. “Good. Eat up, pet. This meal is my gift to you, after all.”

You blink up at him, confused.

Lowly, he chuckles, before nuzzling your hair. “I’m sure you’re aware of what they say about mermaid meat, no?”

The food in your mouth suddenly feels heavy and stale, too sour for your tongue.

“It’s a great gift, isn’t it? Now, you and I will be together forever.”

If his hand wasn’t on your jaw, you’d have thrown up. But, with him pressed so close to you, you have no choice but to swallow down his unorthodox gift.

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sigilcatt · 4 months ago

Note

Hii

Sebastian x Reader where they don't have enough data so they just ask if they can pay w/ a kissy?

zomg this is so cute???

{reader is GN}

So far, the totality of this expedition sucked.

Signing up to fetch some stupid crystal for your freedom sounded like a flawless idea, sure. If you dismissed the plethora of creatures making an effort to kill you along the way. (Not like the people who sent you here cared, mind you.) You were chastised for any mistakes, even though they refused to even inform you about the opposing dangers to begin with. It was more of an…inconvenience if you happened to fail.

Regardless, between having to avoid possesed lockers, shadowy figures, and whatever those god-awful anglers were, you thought you were pretty damn good at this.

You’d managed to stay alive so far, approaching yet another door, this one marked “43.”

Hopefully this one would be easier than the last..

Gently slipping a thin, blue keycard inside the reader that had been installed into the door, waiting for it to hiss open with a scowl on your face. The door parted and swept aside, revealing yet another dark hallway before you.

Dammit, You thought with a groan, fumbling around in your bag to retrieve your flashlight. It was already low on juice, and of course, you had no batteries on you. Just your luck. Shaking it awake, the warm golden light illuminated the absolute mess of the corridor; large crates looked as if they’d been violently thrown across the room, one even appeared to have left minor damage to one of the many thick pipes lining the walls to your left.

Plus the considerable ragged clawmarks that laced the floor, but it was better to ignore those, no?

Taking a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to stray deeper into the space, your light scanning over each and every crevice. You weren’t about to risk letting anything jump out at you.

Except for the vent grille, apparently.

An earsplitting smash reverberated throughout the chambers as it rammed against the nearby wall, bouncing back for a mere second before collapsing onto the floor.

“What the hell-?!”

Out of shock, you dropped your flashlight, the generous amount of light you’d been given now gone as it rolled away from your feet. As you scrambled to pick it back up, a voice echoed through the vent opening.

“Got something for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at the small gap, quickly realizing who it was with frustation bubbling in your gut.

Sebastian. That 10ft sea monster that lingered around these areas, offering you useful supplies in exchange for data. You rolled your eyes with a sigh as you got on your knees, wincing with discomfort as you made your way through the vent to see him.

Of course it was him. Who else would it be? As much as he annoyed you with his unwarranted attitude and sass, he was still…nice to be around. Made things less lonely.

“Ah, you, welcome back.” He greeted, though of course laced his voice with sarcasm. “Really thought you’d be dead by now.”

“I’m more capable than you think, Seb,” You retorted, crossing your arms as you glared up at him, almost actually insulted he doubted you.

His long, grey, scaly tail sat curled against the wall, his selling items neatly attached to it. He scowled right back at you, demonstrating his usual toothy grin as his fins twitched slightly. “Sure.” He hissed softly.

You ignored him, browsing his wares with tired eyes. You approached his tail, ripping off a silvery flashlight and examining it. Without a second thought, you stuffed it into your bag and began to leave.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian scoffed. Abruptly, his wide tail clasped over the vent opening, preventing you from leaving. “You haven’t paid. You must actually be stupid, huh?”

“You owe me!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms into the air. “You scared me and made me drop my first flashlight. Now its’ broken, thanks.”

“Oh dear, really?” Sebastian hissed, feigning concern in his voice.

You groan in frustration as the sarcasm hit you, yanking your bag open to find any data you’d collected along the way. You were hoping to get this interaction over with, if he was going to be this sassy.

“Oh..damn..”

You stared into your palms, which held a few scraps of data, some of which were even broken during your travels. Whatever it was, you definetly did not carry enough to afford anything.

Sebastian laughed softly, seemingly observing this as well. “Too bad, then. That’s really embarrassing, I might add.”

“Wait, seriously?!” You clamored, desperate to leave here with something. “I can figure something out!”

“We had a deal. One you agreed to, in case you forgot. Either you pay, or you get nothing, sweetheart.” He added the taunting nickname with a scoff, reaching to take your bag from you.

You leapt away, knowing he’d tear it to pieces with his claws, even if he was trying to be gentle. Which he wasn’t, of course, but still.

“Wait, wait, I can-” You protested. An idea struck you suddenly. Not a very easy one, but it was something, at least. Oh well, what did you have to lose besides your life and freedom?

Sebastian pulled his hand away, narrow eyes boring into you as he waited for you to finish.

“How would you feel about some sort of…romantic gesture? Like, I don’t know, a fucking kiss or something?” You offered, preparing to be screamed out of the room.

But, to your surprise, that didn’t happen. He simply kept that narrow-eyed glare. At first, you thought he might not have heard you, so you drew in a breath to speak again. “I mean, come on. You think I can’t tell you at least like my presence a little? You’ve given me discounts and let me just sleep in here whenever.”

It was silent for a minute. The events you’d listed were true, however. You could recall moments when you’d just been so drained that he reluctantly allowed you to use his tail as some sort of pillow to rest with, along with the discounts on items he claimed were just him being in a “good mood” at the time.

“That desperate, are we?” Sebastian laughed, his voice yanking you out of your daydreams. He thought on your proposal for a few agonizingly long seconds before letting out a deep sigh. “…Fine.”

You let out a breath you didnt know you’d been holding, practically gripping your newfound flashlight as if it were your only lifesource. (It might as well be, considering your conditions, honestly..)

You opened your mouth to continue, though all that escaped you was a startled gasp as Sebastian lifted you off the ground. Cold, sharp claws grasped onto you with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of as he held you, level to his scaly face.

Your hands grabbed onto whatever part of his claws you could in order to keep yourself from falling as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“So?” He remarked with a frown. You cleared your throat with a deep breath. “Right..”

You leaned in further, pushing your hands against the side of his face as support before pressing your lips against him. Your body seemed to heat up as you did so, finding an odd sense of comfort as you let it linger for a few extra seconds.

“Mmh.” A satisfied hum escaped Sebastian as he gently curled his claws further around your body. Though the fear of falling wasn’t an issue for you right now. All you could seem to think about was the current situation, and the way it made you feel.

Eventually, you pulled away, wiping your mouth as you cleared your throat. You stared up at him, taking in the slight smirk being thrown your way.

“Good enough for you?” You asked, your voice softer than usual.

“Very,” He sighed, placing you down carefully. Your legs trembled as your feet finally touched the ground, due to the being held midair like that, and also maybe the fact that you had just kissed a sea creature you were told to avoid at all costs.

You tightened the hold on your flashlight as you stared off into space, thinking on your recent actions. Of course it earned you something, but holy shit.

In an attempt to take your mind off this, you sat down, arms wrapped around your legs as the lack of energy finally got to you. Sitting against the wall, you let out a sigh.

“Could I stay for a bit?”

“…For a few hours.” Sebastian exhaled, arms crossed as he glanced down at you.

You smiled, a silent ‘thank you’ as you let the well-deserved sensation of rest overcome you.

This was going to be an odd story to tell when you got back.

so sorry if this is shit, /gen , I haven’t written in forever , plus im much better with hcs 💔

#pressure x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #x reader #roblox x reader

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

Die With a Smile

Charles Leclerc x death!Reader

Summary: desperation is a dangerous thing — six seasons without a World Drivers’ Championship has left Charles willing to do anything for glory … even pay the ultimate price (or in which Charles Leclerc sacrifices everything for Ferrari and, thanks to you, learns that death is nothing like he expected)

Warnings: major character death

Charles Leclerc has always been one for precision. Calculated. Calm. But now? Now there’s nothing left. Precision has eroded into a recklessness that terrifies and excites him in equal measure. The pursuit of glory is the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

Melbourne is hot, the air thick and sticky with anticipation. He stands in the paddock, helmet in hand, eyes tracing over the sea of faces. Reporters, mechanics, engineers — all of them moving with purpose. The season begins here, but he can’t shake this feeling that something else is starting too.

He frowns, scanning the crowd again. Something — or someone — has caught his attention.

You stand there, leaning against a barrier, watching him. Quiet, still. You don’t belong in this chaos, yet somehow, you fit. It's not like the usual glances from fans or the admiring stares from strangers. No, this is different. He doesn’t know why, but the sight of you pulls him in, like a thread slowly unraveling.

His grip tightens around the helmet. “Who’s that?” He mutters under his breath, half to himself, half to anyone nearby.

Pierre, standing a few feet away, catches the tail end of his question and follows his gaze. “Who?”

“There.” Charles nods subtly toward you. You’re still there, eyes locked on him. Unblinking. He swallows hard.

Pierre shrugs, oblivious. “No clue. Probably a fan or something. You good?”

Charles doesn’t answer. You’re not a fan. You’re something else. His heart thuds in his chest, a slow, deliberate beat, like a countdown. He can almost hear it. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“I’m fine,” he says, but the words feel empty. He’s not fine. He feels like he’s balancing on the edge of something dangerous, and you’re the reason why.

Suddenly, the world around him — the voices, the clamor of the paddock — fades, and it’s just you and him. You, watching him with a calmness that unnerves him. And him, standing there, frozen, unable to look away.

“I’ll see you after the race,” Pierre says, giving him a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. Charles doesn’t even register his friend’s departure.

He doesn’t move, his body rooted to the spot as if some unseen force has pinned him in place. It’s stupid. Ridiculous. Why can’t he look away?

There’s a flicker in your eyes — something fleeting, something dark. His pulse quickens. He knows that look. He’s seen it before, in mirrors, in the faces of men with nothing left to lose.

But you … you wear it differently. Effortlessly.

Charles takes a step toward you. His boots hit the asphalt with a dull thud, and suddenly, he’s walking, moving through the crowd without really seeing anyone. His focus narrows, sharp and deadly. He can feel it, the pull, the way his every step is dragging him closer to something he can’t explain.

And then he’s standing in front of you.

You don’t smile. You don’t say anything. You just watch him, your expression unreadable, like you’re waiting for something.

His throat is dry. “Who are you?”

For a moment, silence stretches between you, thick and unyielding. And then you tilt your head, ever so slightly, as if considering the question.

“Does it matter?” Your voice is soft, almost too soft, but it cuts through the noise around them like a blade.

He blinks, thrown off balance. He expected — he doesn’t know what he expected. Something more. Something less. But not this.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing hard, “I think it does.”

You shift your weight, crossing your arms over your chest, but your eyes never leave his. “And why is that?”

He hesitates. Why does it matter? He’s not sure. All he knows is that standing here, with you in front of him, he feels something heavy pressing down on him. Like time is slipping through his fingers, like he’s running out of chances, running out of-

“You’re in my head,” he says, more to himself than to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you in my head?”

You don’t answer right away, but your gaze sharpens, something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. “Maybe because you’ve been looking for me.”

His breath catches. “What?”

“You don’t realize it yet, but you’ve been waiting for this. For me.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He feels like the ground beneath him is shifting, like everything he thought he knew about himself is crumbling.

“You’re wrong,” he says, but his voice lacks conviction. “I’m not waiting for anything.”

You raise an eyebrow, and for the first time, a ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. It’s not a kind smile. It’s knowing. Cold.

“Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. Can’t. The world around them feels suddenly smaller, the air thicker, like it’s closing in on him.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

That sound again. It’s louder now, reverberating in his skull.

“You’re scared,” you say, and it’s not a question.

“I’m not scared.”

“You should be.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but no words come out. Because you’re right. He is scared. But not of you. He’s scared of what you represent. Of the way his pulse pounds in his ears, the way his chest feels tight with something he doesn’t understand.

And you know it. You see right through him.

“This season,” you say, your voice low, “it’s your last, isn’t it?”

He stiffens. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t expect to come out of this alive.”

He laughs, but it’s bitter, hollow. “I don’t have a choice. I either win, or …”

“Or you die.”

His breath hitches. The way you say it, so matter-of-fact, so final — it shakes him. Because it’s true. He’s been feeling it for months, this gnawing sense that if he doesn’t win the championship, there’s nothing left for him. He’ll push until he breaks. And he doesn’t care anymore.

But how do you know that? How could you possibly know?

“You don’t get to decide that,” he snaps, more harshly than he intends.

You don’t flinch. “You’re right. I don’t.”

The implication hangs between you, unspoken but loud. There’s something inevitable about this. Something neither of you can control.

He takes a step back, suddenly needing space, air — anything to break the tension building between you. But even as he moves, he can still feel the weight of your gaze on him, can still hear the ticking in his head, louder and louder, counting down to something he can’t escape.

“You’re wrong,” he says again, though this time, it’s more for himself than for you. “I’ll win. I’ll be fine.”

You don’t argue. You just watch him, that cold, knowing smile still playing at the edges of your lips.

“We’ll see,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, you turn and walk away, disappearing into the crowd as quickly as you appeared, leaving him standing there, heart racing, mind spinning.

He should be focusing on the race. On the championship. On everything he’s spent his entire life chasing.

But all he can think about is you. And the way his time feels like it’s running out.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

***

The roar of the engine fills his ears, drowning out everything else. The speed is intoxicating, the way the car moves beneath him, barely hanging on to the asphalt, the tires biting into the corners with every turn. He’s pushing harder than he should — he knows it, and he doesn’t care.

Spa is unforgiving today. The clouds hang low, threatening rain, and the track is slick, treacherous. Charles feels the tension in his body, every muscle taut, every nerve on edge. There’s no margin for error here. He’s on the edge, teetering, dancing with disaster. But that’s where he’s been living for months now — on the edge.

He downshifts hard coming out of Blanchimont, the rear of the car twitching beneath him. His heart pounds against his ribcage. He’s faster than he needs to be — faster than is safe. But he can’t let up. The rest of the field is closing in, and the gap between him and the car ahead is shrinking. Just a little more, just-

Then, suddenly, the car snaps.

A violent jolt sends him skidding off the track, the rear tires giving way, and for a brief, horrifying second, he loses control. The world tilts, and all he sees is the blur of gravel and barriers rushing toward him. Instinct takes over. His hands are a blur on the steering wheel as he fights to regain control. The tires scream against the ground, the car skidding sideways, throwing him against the seat belts with bone-rattling force.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his heart pounding in his throat. He’s losing it, the car sliding further into the runoff area, the barrier looming closer.

But then — somehow — he recovers. The car snaps back into line, and he breathes out a shaky breath, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel. He’s back on the track, the car steady beneath him, but his heart is still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Charles, are you okay?” His engineer’s voice crackles through the radio, tense and urgent.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his voice shaky. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But he’s not fine. His hands are trembling, his vision is still blurred with the image of the gravel, the barrier — the almost crash. For a split second, he saw it. Saw what could have happened. What should have happened if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in.

He pulls the car to a slow halt, off the track now, coming to rest just inside the gravel trap. The engine hums, a low, steady sound that does nothing to calm him.

He sits there, breathing heavily, his head resting against the seat, eyes closed. He’s been reckless before, but this? This was different. He came so close to-

And then he feels it.

A presence.

His eyes snap open, and there you are. Standing just beyond the fence, not more than twenty feet from where his car rests. You’re watching him, the same way you did in Melbourne, your gaze locked on him with that unnerving calm that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

For a moment, he wonders if he’s imagining it. The adrenaline is still pumping, his mind is spinning, and maybe — just maybe — you’re a hallucination. But no. You’re real. You’re standing there, just beyond the track, watching him.

His breath catches in his throat.

“Charles, talk to us. Do you need assistance?” His engineer’s voice comes through the radio again, but he can’t respond. He’s frozen, staring at you through the shattered remnants of the race.

“Charles?” The voice repeats, more urgent now.

But he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

You tilt your head slightly, as if you’re considering something, as if you’re weighing his fate in your hands. And then, without a word, you take a step closer to the fence, your eyes never leaving his.

“Not yet,” you say, your voice somehow carrying through the din, through the chaos of the race and the pounding of his heart. It’s soft, almost a whisper, but he hears it as clearly as if you’re standing right next to him. “But soon.”

His blood runs cold.

He knows what you mean. He knows, deep down, that this is a warning. He can feel it, the weight of it pressing down on him, like the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind, counting down to something inevitable.

He swallows hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the words stick in his throat. “Who — who are you?” He manages to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t answer. You never answer. Instead, you just watch him, your expression unreadable, like you already know how this ends.

The world around him feels distant now, like everything is moving in slow motion. The sound of the engines, the cheers of the crowd — it all fades into the background, leaving just you and him, locked in this strange, silent moment.

“Charles, we need you to respond,” the engineer’s voice cuts in again, breaking the spell for just a second.

He fumbles for the radio, his hand shaking as he presses the button. “I’m — I’m fine,” he says, his voice strained. “Give me a minute.”

There’s a pause on the other end, but they don’t push him further. Not yet.

He exhales slowly, trying to steady himself, trying to make sense of what’s happening. He’s been reckless, yes. But this? This feels like more than just a close call. This feels like a warning. Like you’re here to remind him of something he’s been trying to ignore.

“Why are you here?” He asks, his voice barely audible over the hum of the car.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. But your eyes — they tell him everything. You’re here because of him. Because of the choices he’s making, the risks he’s taking. You’re here because he’s running out of time.

“You said … in Melbourne …” His voice trails off as he struggles to find the words. He remembers what you said. That he’s been looking for you, even if he didn’t realize it. That his time was running out.

And now, here you are. Again. Watching him.

“I don’t need you,” he says suddenly, his voice rising with a mixture of anger and fear. “I’m not done yet.”

Your expression doesn’t change. You don’t flinch. It’s as if you’ve heard these words a thousand times before.

“I will win,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’m going to win.”

You take a step closer to the fence, your gaze unwavering. “We’ll see.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and final. He can’t tell if it’s a promise or a threat. Maybe it’s both.

He clenches his fists around the steering wheel, the leather cool against his skin. He wants to shout at you, to demand answers, to make you go away. But deep down, he knows you’re not the kind of thing you can just wish away. You’re something else. Something bigger. Something he doesn’t understand.

And yet, you’re here. Watching. Waiting.

“I don’t have a choice,” he mutters, his voice breaking. “I have to win.”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The truth is already hanging between you.

Tick. Tock.

He can hear it again. That ticking. It’s louder now, more insistent, like the hands of a clock speeding up, racing toward some unseen finish line.

Charles shakes his head, as if trying to clear the sound from his mind. But it’s no use. The ticking is there, buried deep in his skull, a reminder that time is slipping away.

“I can still do this,” he whispers, almost desperately. “I can still win.”

Your gaze softens, just for a moment, and he wonders if you feel sorry for him. If you pity him.

“Maybe,” you say, and it’s the closest thing to compassion he’s heard from you. “But at what cost?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words die in his throat. Because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what it will cost him. He doesn’t want to know.

You take one last, lingering look at him, your eyes scanning his face as if memorizing every detail, and then you turn, your figure disappearing into the haze of the track, swallowed up by the world beyond the fence.

He sits there, still trembling, still shaken. His fingers slowly unclench from the steering wheel, and he lets out a long, ragged breath.

“Charles?” His engineer’s voice again, but softer this time. “Are you okay? We’re ready to bring you back in.”

He doesn’t respond right away. His mind is still reeling, still stuck in that moment when you stood there, just beyond the fence, watching him. Judging him.

“I’m coming in,” he finally says, his voice hoarse.

The car hums back to life as he nudges it forward, back onto the track. But his hands are still shaking. His pulse is still racing.

And in the back of his mind, the ticking continues.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

***

The rain is relentless in Suzuka. Sheets of water hammer down on the track, turning every corner into a hazard, every straight into a test of nerve. The spray from the tires rises like smoke, blurring the lines between the asphalt and the dark sky.

Charles can barely see more than a few meters in front of him, but he doesn’t let up. His foot is heavy on the throttle, fingers gripping the wheel like a lifeline. He’s teetering on the edge of control, dancing that fine line between dangerous and deadly.

Every lap feels like a gamble. He’s driving blind, trusting the car to hold steady, trusting himself not to make a mistake. But the mistakes are creeping in. He can feel it. The tires are slipping, the rear end twitching beneath him as he pushes harder, faster. The rain pounds against his helmet, and the world outside the cockpit is a chaotic blur of water and noise.

“Charles, we need you to back off,” his engineer’s voice crackles through the radio, thick with concern. “Conditions are getting worse.”

He doesn’t respond. His eyes are fixed on the road ahead, every muscle in his body tense, every instinct screaming at him to keep pushing. He knows the risks. He knows what’s at stake. But slowing down isn’t an option. Not for him.

“Charles, can you hear me?” The voice comes again, more insistent this time.

He blinks, his vision briefly clearing through the rain. And then he sees it.

A figure. Just beyond the barriers, standing at the edge of the track, half-obscured by the downpour. At first, it’s just a blur of motion, but as he hurtles closer, the figure sharpens into focus.

His breath catches in his throat. It can’t be.

Jules.

It’s impossible, but there he is — Jules Bianchi, standing on the side of the track, just where the runoff ends and the grass begins, his face calm, serene. Just like Charles remembers him. His heart leaps into his throat, a wave of emotion crashing over him, threatening to overwhelm him.

“Jules?” He whispers, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.

He blinks, just for a second. But when his eyes open again, Jules is gone. And in his place, there’s you.

Charles’ chest tightens, his hands shaking on the wheel as the car skids slightly on the wet track. You’re standing where Jules was, your gaze locked on him, calm and unyielding. The rain pours down around you, but you don’t move. You don’t blink. You just watch him, lap after lap.

“What the hell …” His voice cracks, his heart pounding harder than it should.

He can’t take his eyes off you, not even as the car barrels down the straight. The rain is coming down harder now, a relentless torrent that threatens to drown him in its fury. His mind spins, struggling to make sense of what he’s seeing. First Jules, now you — both of you standing there, on the edge of the track like ghosts from different parts of his life, haunting him.

Lap after lap, you’re there. Always in the same spot, just beyond the barrier, watching him. He blinks through the rain, but you never leave.

“Charles, please, respond,” his engineer’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp with worry. “You need to slow down. The rain’s too heavy. We’re going to box.”

“I’m fine,” Charles snaps, his voice strained. “I’m staying out.”

He can hear the hesitation in the silence that follows. They don’t want to argue with him — not now, not when he’s like this. But he knows they’re watching, knows they can see the telemetry, knows they can see that he’s pushing the car beyond its limits.

He doesn’t care. He has to keep going. He has to — for Jules.

But why are you here? Why now? Why after Jules?

His hands shake on the wheel as he takes another corner too fast, the rear tires sliding out before he regains control. His heart is racing, his mind a mess of emotions, and still — you’re there. You’re always there.

Charles grits his teeth, his jaw clenched so tight it hurts. “What do you want from me?” He mutters under his breath, his voice trembling. He knows you can’t hear him, not through the roar of the engine and the crash of rain, but it doesn’t matter. You’re in his head now. You’ve been in his head since Melbourne.

And now, Jules too?

It’s almost too much. The memories of his godfather crash over him, a flood of grief and guilt he’s been pushing down for years. Jules’ voice, his smile, the way he believed in Charles even when Charles didn’t believe in himself.

But Jules is gone. Has been for a long time.

So why did he see him?

“Charles, box, box,” the radio crackles, cutting through his thoughts again.

“I said no!” He snaps, his voice sharper than he intended. His breath is coming fast, too fast, his chest tight with something he can’t name.

He takes the next corner harder than he should, the car sliding dangerously close to the wall. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel, his body tense, rigid. His mind is racing — too fast, too chaotic. The rain pounds harder against the car, and visibility is almost zero now, the track a slick, treacherous river beneath him.

And then, as he speeds past the spot where you stand, something shifts.

He swears he hears your voice. Soft, almost a whisper, but unmistakable. “Charles.”

It’s like ice down his spine. His heart skips a beat, his grip faltering for just a second.

He jerks the wheel, the car sliding as he corrects it, narrowly avoiding the barrier. His pulse is racing, his breathing erratic. He glances toward where you’re standing, but you don’t move. Don’t say anything else. Just watch. Always watching.

“Damn it,” he mutters, his heart pounding so loud he can barely hear anything else. “Damn it!”

The ticking is back. That familiar, maddening sound in the back of his mind. It’s been there for months now, growing louder, more insistent with every race, every lap. And now it’s deafening, drowning out everything else, a reminder of the time slipping through his fingers.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“You’re running out of time.”

Your voice echoes in his head, soft and calm, but laced with something darker. Something inevitable.

“I know!” He shouts, his voice hoarse, desperate. He knows he’s running out of time. He’s known it for months. Every race, every moment, feels like it’s pulling him closer to the edge, closer to you.

But he won’t stop. He can’t stop.

Jules wouldn’t want him to.

The thought of Jules — of his godfather, watching him, believing in him — gives him a surge of strength. He clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he pushes the car harder, faster, through the rain-soaked chaos.

“I’ll win,” he mutters, his voice fierce. “I’ll win for him.”

The car slides again, the tires struggling for grip, but he doesn’t care. He pushes harder, faster. The track is a blur beneath him, the rain blinding, but all he can think about is Jules. About you. About the ticking clock in his head.

And still, you’re there. Lap after lap, you watch him. Unblinking. Unwavering.

“You don’t have to do this,” your voice whispers in his mind, soft but relentless.

“I do,” he growls, his teeth gritted against the storm. “I have to.”

There’s a flash of lightning overhead, illuminating the track for a brief moment, and in that instant, he sees you clearer than ever. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, everything falls away. The rain, the track, the car — it all disappears, leaving just the two of you, suspended in time.

“You can’t outrun this,” you say, and there’s something almost sad in your voice. “You know that.”

He shakes his head, his hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles are white. “I can try.”

You don’t argue. You never do. You just watch him, like you always do, waiting. Waiting for him to understand.

He takes the final corner, the car sliding dangerously close to the wall, and as he crosses the line, the checkered flag waving in the rain, he feels it.

The ticking stops.

And for the first time in months, there’s silence.

But it’s not a relief.

It’s a warning.

Because he knows — deep down — that this isn’t over.

Not yet.

You’re still watching. And he’s still running.

But he can’t run forever.

***

The lights of Abu Dhabi shimmer under the night sky, illuminating the track like a stage set for the final act. The crowd is a sea of red, Ferrari flags waving in anticipation, in hope. This is it. The final race. The decider.

Charles sits in his cockpit, the engine vibrating beneath him, the roar of the crowd a distant hum behind his helmet. He’s been here before — so close — but this time, it’s different. This time, he feels it. The championship is within his grasp. The ticking in his head has been growing louder all season, but tonight, it’s almost deafening.

Lap after lap, corner after corner, he’s been inching closer to victory. Every second matters, every move counts. His heart pounds in sync with the car, the pressure of the moment squeezing at his chest, but he doesn’t let it crack him. Not now. He can’t. Not when everything he’s fought for is just beyond the finish line.

“Stay focused, Charles,” the voice of his engineer comes through the radio, calm but urgent.

“I’m focused,” Charles mutters, his voice tight with determination. His eyes flicker to the rearview mirrors — no one behind him. He’s clear.

The laps tick down, and with each one, the championship feels closer, heavier. The car is holding together, despite the heat, despite the pressure he’s putting on it. Ferrari has given him everything, and now he’s about to repay that faith. The Tifosi will finally have what they’ve been waiting for.

The last corner comes too quickly, but his hands are steady on the wheel. He navigates the turn, his body leaning into it as if willing the car to stay glued to the track. And then he’s there — the straight before the finish line, the end of the race.

“Go, go, go!” His engineer’s voice rises, the excitement breaking through. “You’ve got it, Charles!”

The chequered flag waves ahead, and in a breathless moment, it’s over.

Charles crosses the line. World Champion.

For a second, he’s still. Then the realization crashes into him like a tidal wave. He’s done it. He’s won. The championship is his.

The radio crackles again, his engineer’s voice cutting through the noise. “Charles — Champion of the World! You’ve done it! We’ve done it!”

A shaky laugh escapes Charles’ lips. “We did it. We actually did it,” he breathes, disbelief and euphoria blending together.

He can hear the team screaming over the radio, their joy contagious. “Grazie, Charles! Grazie! You’re the World Champion!”

He laughs again, more freely this time, his body shaking with adrenaline. “For Ferrari. For the Tifosi.”

His eyes well up as he glances at the sea of red in the stands. It’s everything he ever wanted. Glory. History. His name etched forever in the annals of the sport. He lifts a hand, a small wave toward the crowd, though they can’t see him from inside the cockpit.

“I can’t believe it,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I actually did it.”

His heart is racing, but it’s not the same as before. This time, it’s relief. It’s joy. It’s everything he’s sacrificed for, everything he’s given to this dream.

He presses the brake pedal gently, ready to slow down for the cool-down lap, to take it all in, but-

Nothing happens.

A frown creases his brow. He presses again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

Panic flickers at the edge of his mind. “No … No, no, no …”

He pushes the brake pedal to the floor, but the car doesn’t respond. It doesn’t slow. The speedometer remains steady — too fast, too uncontrolled.

“Brakes aren’t working,” he says into the radio, trying to keep his voice calm, but his heart is pounding again, this time for a different reason. Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

“What? What do you mean?” His engineer’s voice is sharp, laced with fear.

“The brakes!” Charles snaps, his breath quickening. “They’re not working. I can’t slow down.”

He can feel the car resisting him, the engine still pushing forward, the barriers coming closer. The panic is rising now, clawing at his throat, tightening around his chest. He tries to steer, to find some way to slow the car, but there’s nothing. The barriers are closing in, the speed too high, too dangerous.

“Charles, try the emergency system-”

“I already have!” His voice cracks, desperation breaking through. The car is screaming beneath him, the speed a deadly weapon now, not a tool of victory.

And then he sees you.

You’re standing right by the barrier, just ahead, as if you’ve been waiting for him all along.

His heart stops for a second, time freezing around him. You’re so still, so calm, watching him. Watching him as the car barrels toward you, toward the barrier, toward the inevitable.

“No …” Charles breathes, his voice barely a whisper. His hands are shaking on the wheel now, his vision blurring from the speed, from the fear. He can see the crash coming, can feel it in his bones.

But you don’t move. You just watch.

His chest tightens, and the ticking is back, louder than ever. It’s all he can hear now, that maddening, relentless ticking.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You don’t have to say anything. He knows. He’s always known. He’s been running toward this moment, toward you, since the beginning.

“Charles, try to-” His engineer’s voice cuts in again, but it’s too late.

The car slams into the barrier with a deafening crash, metal crunching, glass shattering. The world explodes around him, spinning, breaking apart. Pain flares through his body, white-hot and sharp, and then everything goes dark.

He’s still. Silent. The only sound is the faint crackling of the radio, his engineer’s voice distant, broken by static. “Charles? Charles, can you hear me? Charles?”

But Charles can’t move. He can barely think. The pain is numbing now, his body heavy, unresponsive. His vision is blurry, the world around him fading in and out of focus.

And then, through the haze, he sees you again. You’re walking toward him, slowly, steadily, through the wreckage of the car. The world is quiet now, eerily still, as if time itself has stopped.

Charles’ breath is shallow, his heart struggling to keep up. He can feel it — the end. It’s here. It’s always been here, waiting for him.

You come closer, your footsteps silent, your face calm, almost peaceful. You stop just beside the cockpit, your eyes meeting his.

“Is this it?” Charles whispers, his voice barely audible, his chest tight with the effort of speaking. His vision is fading fast, the darkness closing in. But you’re the only thing he can see clearly.

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. He knows.

You kneel beside him, your hand reaching out, and for the first time, you touch him. Your fingers brush against his skin, cold and soft, and in that moment, everything stops.

The ticking in his head goes silent.

The world fades.

And Charles Leclerc, World Champion, breathes his last breath.

He’s gone.

But his name — his glory — will live on forever. He gave everything. Sacrificed everything.

For Ferrari. For the Tifosi. For the dream.

And now, he is part of that legacy, forever written in the stars.

He won.

He died for glory.

***

The streets of Maranello are overflowing with grief.

Charles stands next to you, or at least what’s left of him does. His soul, untethered from the wreckage, feels weightless, though the weight of the moment is crushing. He can’t feel the ground beneath him anymore, can’t feel the warmth of the sun or the bite of the wind. All he can feel is the suffocating sorrow of the crowd, pressing in from every direction.

And the crowd. Dio mio, the crowd. Thousands — no, hundreds of thousands — of Tifosi flood the streets, a sea of red and black, their flags raised high, but there is no joy in their colors today. No triumphant cheers. Just the sound of sobs, muffled by hands pressed to faces, by the raw weight of a collective heartbreak that can’t be put into words.

The Ferrari factory looms behind them, draped in mourning banners, the Prancing Horse emblem hanging in black, somber and silent. The air is thick with the scent of incense, flowers — and death.

It’s impossible to look at them, and yet Charles can’t tear his eyes away. Grown men, hardened by life, stand with tears streaming down their faces. Fathers and sons alike, clutching each other as if holding on will somehow stem the flood of loss that grips them.

Charles looks at you, his breath — if he had any left — shuddering in his chest. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You’re silent, standing beside him, your presence both a comfort and a reminder. This is what it means to be gone. To be remembered, but no longer part of the world.

“Do they …” He trails off, his voice thick with disbelief. “Do they miss me this much?”

You glance at him, your eyes calm but unreadable. “What did you expect?” Your voice is soft, but there’s an edge of inevitability to it, as if the scene before him was always written in the stars, just like his fate.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. Or at least, he tries to. The motion feels more like a memory than a reality. “I thought … I thought they’d move on.”

You tilt your head, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting across your lips. “They won’t. Not from this. Not from you.”

His eyes flicker back to the crowd, his chest tight. There’s no end to them. They fill the streets, every inch of space, like blood rushing through the veins of this small Italian town. He sees children on their fathers’ shoulders, wearing tiny Ferrari caps. Women clutching scarves, their eyes red from crying. He’s never seen this kind of devotion, not like this. Not for him.

He spots an elderly man near the front, his face weathered and lined, but the tears falling down his cheeks are fresh. He’s holding a photo of Charles — young, smiling, a memory of a better time. A time when the world still held onto hope.

Charles feels his throat tighten, his eyes burning despite the fact that he can’t cry anymore. “Why …” He swallows hard, his voice cracking. “Why are they all here? Why does it hurt them this much?”

You turn to face him fully, your expression steady, knowing. “Because you were theirs. Il Predestinato. The one they believed in. You gave them hope, and you gave them your life. They will never forget that.”

The title rings in his ears. Il Predestinato. The Chosen One. It always sounded so heavy, a burden he could never quite shake. And now, he wonders if it was ever truly his to bear.

A sudden commotion pulls his attention back to the crowd. The sea of red parts for a moment as a car rolls slowly through. Charles recognizes it immediately — a Ferrari, sleek and dark, the hearse that will carry his body through the streets of Maranello. It’s draped in the Italian flag, and atop it sits his helmet, the red and white standing stark against the backdrop of mourning.

The Tifosi bow their heads, some reaching out as if trying to touch the car, as if touching it will bring them closer to him. The car stops in front of the factory, and Charles watches, numb, as his casket is pulled out, carried by men he’s known for years. Faces he recognizes, but that seem distant now, like shadows from another life.

“They’re broken,” Charles whispers, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for this.”

You don’t respond immediately, just watching the procession with the same stillness you always carry. Finally, you speak, your voice low and quiet. “Sacrifice always leaves something behind. Even if it’s pain.”

Charles inhales sharply, though the air doesn’t fill his lungs the way it used to. He’s not sure how to process what he’s seeing, what he’s feeling. There’s a weight in his chest, heavy and suffocating. It’s not like the fear he felt in those final moments before the crash, but something deeper. Something that feels permanent.

The casket reaches the steps of the Ferrari factory, where the company’s executives, drivers, and engineers are gathered. They stand in silence, heads bowed, their faces etched with sorrow. Charles feels a pang of guilt, sharper than he expected.

“Was it worth it?” His voice is barely a whisper, almost lost in the overwhelming noise of the crowd.

You turn to him, your expression unreadable. “That’s not for me to decide.”

He clenches his fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But I gave everything! I died for this!” He gestures toward the casket, the crowd, the broken faces of his friends and family. “I sacrificed everything for Ferrari. For the Tifosi.”

You meet his gaze, unwavering. “And now, you have to decide if that sacrifice was worth it.”

Charles looks away, his heart — or whatever’s left of it — aching. He doesn’t know the answer. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

As the casket is carried up the steps, a priest steps forward. Charles recognizes him immediately. The Pope. The sight would almost be surreal if it weren’t for the gravity of the moment. The leader of the Catholic Church, come to bless his body, to give him the final rites. It’s more than Charles ever expected, more than he ever thought possible.

The Pope raises his hand, his voice carrying over the crowd in solemn Latin, offering a prayer for Charles’ soul. The crowd is silent now, the only sound the soft rustle of flags in the wind and the distant sobs of those too broken to hold back their grief.

Charles watches, his chest tight with emotion he can’t quite name. “Will they remember me?” His voice is small, almost childlike in its vulnerability.

You don’t hesitate. “They will never forget you. The Tifosi will name their children after you. They will pray for you, mourn for you, even as they themselves fade. Your name will live on, even when their names turn to dust.”

He blinks, trying to process your words. It’s everything he ever wanted, everything he worked for. To be remembered. To be loved. To be immortal in the eyes of those who mattered most to him.

“But will it be enough?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper. “Will it ever be enough?”

You turn to him, your gaze softening just slightly. “That’s something only you can answer.”

Charles looks back at the crowd, at the faces of the people who loved him, who believed in him, who now grieve for him. He doesn’t know the answer yet. Maybe he never will. But for now, all he can do is watch as the people of Italy — his people — mourn the loss of their hero, their champion, their Il Predestinato.

And perhaps, in their grief, in their endless love for him, he will find the answer he’s looking for.

As the Pope finishes his prayer, the crowd begins to chant.

“Forza, Charles! Forza Ferrari!“

The sound rises, a wave of devotion and heartbreak that crashes over the streets of Maranello. Charles listens, his heart aching with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

He is gone. But his name, his legacy, will live on forever.

And maybe — just maybe — that’s enough.

***

The afterlife is nothing like Charles imagined.

For one, it isn’t dark. There are no flames licking at the sky, no eerie fog swirling at his feet. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel either. Instead, there’s an odd stillness, like time has stopped moving but everything else remains in place. It’s hard to describe, really — neither peaceful nor unsettling, just … different.

He’s not sure how long he’s been here. Time doesn’t seem to exist in the way it used to. Days blend into one another, or maybe there are no days at all. Just moments strung together in an endless loop.

The one constant in this strange new reality is you.

You’re always close by, never too far, but never imposing. It’s a strange sort of companionship, one that Charles hadn’t expected to find in death. He watches you sometimes, your presence steady, your movements fluid and quiet. You’re not like anyone he’s ever met. And it’s no wonder — how could you be? You’re death.

But there’s something else about you, something he can’t quite put into words. You’re not cold or distant, despite the weight of your title. There’s a kind of sadness that clings to you, something that pulls him in even when he tries to resist it.

He’s sitting beside you now, his back against an old stone wall, looking out into the expanse of … wherever this place is. It’s quiet, as always, the only sound the faint rustling of something distant. Neither of you speak, but the silence between you is comfortable, not awkward.

After a while, Charles breaks it.

“Do you ever get lonely?”

Your head tilts slightly, as if the question surprises you. You don’t answer right away, and for a moment, Charles thinks you won’t. But then you shift, your eyes focused on some point in the distance, and your voice, when it comes, is soft.

“I suppose I do.”

It’s not what he expected you to say. He always thought of you as solitary, but not necessarily lonely. You were death, after all. You weren’t meant to have attachments, were you?

“How could you?” He asks, genuinely curious. “You’re … you. Death doesn’t get lonely.”

You let out a soft sigh, one that’s more resigned than sad. “Death doesn’t exactly allow for much companionship.” You glance at him, your eyes steady. “Most souls don’t stick around for very long. They move on. They’re not meant to linger.”

Charles absorbs your words, turning them over in his mind. It’s true — he’s the only one here, the only soul who hasn’t moved on. But the idea that you might be lonely, after all this time, unsettles him in a way he can’t explain.

“Do you know why I haven’t moved on?” He asks, his voice quiet.

You shake your head, your expression soft but unreadable. “No. I don’t understand it.”

He leans back against the wall, his mind racing. Why hasn’t he moved on? There’s no reason to stay, no unfinished business, no regrets strong enough to tether him to this place. And yet … he’s still here. With you.

You shift slightly beside him, your gaze drifting out into the distance again. “I’ve never had anyone stay this long,” you say, almost to yourself. “Most souls are eager to move on. They want peace, or closure, or something more.”

Charles frowns, looking over at you. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want them to stay?”

You pause, considering the question. “No,” you say eventually. “That’s not how it works. They’re not meant to stay. Neither am I.”

“But you get lonely.”

Your lips press together, and for a moment, Charles thinks he might have pushed too far. But then you nod, just once. “Yes.”

There’s something in your voice, something quiet and raw, that tugs at something deep inside him. He doesn’t understand why, but it matters to him. Your loneliness matters to him.

“Is that why you’re still here?” You ask, turning the question back on him. “Because of me?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come. He’s not sure. Maybe it is. Or maybe there’s something else at play, something neither of you understands.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I don’t think I’m ready to leave.”

You look at him then, really look at him, and there’s a softness in your gaze that catches him off guard. He realizes in that moment how much time you’ve spent alone. You, the embodiment of death, the one who has seen everything end but never experienced the simplicity of someone choosing to stay.

He leans forward, his voice quieter now. “Have you ever-”

He hesitates, the question hanging in the air between you.

“What?” You prompt, your voice gentle.

“Have you ever … I don’t know. Experienced anything like this?” He gestures between the two of you. “With anyone else?”

You shake your head, almost sadly. “No. Death doesn’t leave room for that.”

Charles watches you for a moment, his mind spinning with the weight of it all. It seems so unfair, that you should be condemned to an eternity of loneliness, of watching others move on while you remain.

“Everyone deserves at least one thing,” he says softly, almost to himself.

You tilt your head, confused. “What do you mean?”

He swallows hard, his gaze locking onto yours. “Everyone deserves to experience their first kiss.”

Your breath catches ever so slightly, your eyes widening just a fraction. “Charles …”

“I’m serious,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “You should have that. You deserve it.”

You don’t respond, but your eyes search his, and for the first time since he met you, he sees something flicker there. Uncertainty. Vulnerability.

He leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want to. But you don’t. You stay still, watching him, waiting.

And then, gently, Charles presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, barely more than a whisper of a touch, but it’s enough. Enough to make the world tilt on its axis for a moment, enough to make the weight of everything around you both fall away.

You don’t pull back immediately. Neither does he. For a few seconds, it’s just the two of you, suspended in the stillness of the afterlife, sharing something fragile and beautiful.

When he finally does pull away, your eyes are still closed, your lips parted ever so slightly. Charles watches you, his heart — or whatever it is that beats in his chest now — pounding in a way that feels almost human again.

You open your eyes slowly, blinking as if coming out of a dream.

“I-” You falter, your voice soft and uncertain. “Why did you …”

He smiles gently, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Because I wanted to. And because you deserve it.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment, just looking at him as if trying to make sense of what just happened. But there’s a warmth in your gaze now, something that wasn’t there before. Something new.

“I don’t understand you, Charles,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He laughs quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. “I don’t understand myself, either.”

You stay like that for a while, in the stillness of the afterlife, the weight of the world no longer pressing down on either of you. There’s no rush, no need for answers right now.

For the first time, in a long time, neither of you feels alone.

***

Time is strange in the afterlife.

Charles doesn’t know how long he’s been here — whether it’s days, months, or even years. There’s no ticking clock, no sun moving across the sky. It’s just … still. He’s gotten used to the quiet, to your presence nearby, and to the sense that nothing is rushing forward like it used to.

But something shifts one day. You’re sitting beside him, as usual, but there’s a new energy in the air, something that tugs at the quietness and pulls at the stillness. You turn to him, your eyes meeting his with a softness that he can’t quite place.

“I have something to show you,” you say, your voice quiet but clear.

He blinks, confused. “What do you mean?”

You don’t explain. Instead, you stand, offering him your hand. He hesitates for a second, but then he takes it. There’s always been an unspoken trust between you — something that keeps him tethered to you, even in death.

The world shifts around him, the stillness breaking apart. For a moment, everything spins, the ground slipping from beneath his feet as if he’s falling — but it’s not unpleasant. It’s more like drifting. And then, as suddenly as it starts, it stops.

Charles finds himself standing in a hospital room.

His breath catches, his mind scrambling to make sense of where he is. The sterile smell of disinfectant clings to the air, and the beeping of machines fills the silence. He looks around, trying to orient himself, but nothing feels real.

“Where-”

You don’t answer his question directly. Instead, you nod toward the center of the room. “Look.”

Charles follows your gaze, and his heart — if he still had one — stumbles in his chest. His older brother, Lorenzo, stands by the bed, his face soft with emotion. He’s holding someone’s hand. Charlotte, his wife, is lying in the hospital bed, her expression tired but glowing. But it’s the small bundle she holds against her chest that steals Charles’ breath.

A baby.

It takes him a moment to fully process what he’s seeing. Lorenzo’s wife. His brother. And a baby.

Charles steps closer, his movements slow, almost cautious, as if he’s afraid the scene will shatter if he gets too close. He watches as Lorenzo reaches down to stroke the baby’s tiny head, his face filled with a tenderness that Charles hasn’t seen in years.

“Lorenzo?” Charles whispers, though he knows his brother can’t hear him. His eyes are fixed on the child in Charlotte’s arms, a strange sense of awe and disbelief washing over him.

You step beside him, your voice soft as you speak. “I wanted you to meet Charles Tolotta-Leclerc.”

He freezes.

“What?” His voice barely makes it past his lips, and he turns to look at you, his eyes wide, searching your face for any hint of a joke. But you’re serious.

You nod toward the baby again. “They named him after you.”

Charles stares at the tiny bundle, his mind struggling to catch up with what you’ve just said. They named the baby after him? His head spins, a strange mix of emotions swirling through him — shock, disbelief, and something that feels dangerously close to pride.

Before he can fully process it, Lorenzo’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“I miss him,” Lorenzo says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I wish he could be here. I wish he could’ve met him.”

Charlotte smiles up at him, though there’s a sadness in her eyes. “He would’ve loved him,” she says, her voice gentle. “He’ll be watching over him, I’m sure of it.”

Lorenzo’s expression tightens, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “I hope so,” he murmurs. “I hope he’s watching over us. Over Charlie.”

Charles stands frozen, his entire body — or soul, or whatever he is — going still. The weight of Lorenzo’s words crashes into him like a tidal wave, leaving him breathless. He watches as his brother’s eyes fill with unshed tears, and it breaks something inside him.

“I wanted him to be here,” Lorenzo says, his voice cracking. “I wanted him to be part of this, to see my son …”

Charles can’t take it anymore. He feels the pressure building inside of him, the ache in his chest growing unbearable. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes — not physical tears, but the kind that burn and sting nonetheless.

You’re beside him before he even realizes it, your presence calm and steady. You don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. He can feel your understanding, your quiet reassurance.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I’m watching.”

But no one can hear him.

Lorenzo’s voice cracks again as he continues. “I named him Charles because … I want him to be like you. I want him to grow up knowing who you were. What you stood for. And maybe … maybe he’ll feel like you’re with him, even if you can’t be.”

Charles presses a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the sob that threatens to escape. The emotions are too much — grief, pride, love, all tangled together in a way that feels like it’s tearing him apart.

He looks at the baby again, the tiny life cradled in Charlotte’s arms, and something breaks open inside him. He didn’t know it was possible to feel so much after death. He thought everything would fade away, that he wouldn’t have to feel the weight of the world anymore.

But watching his brother, watching this moment … it’s almost unbearable.

You step closer, your hand resting gently on his shoulder. “It’s okay to feel it,” you say softly. “It’s okay to cry.”

Charles lets out a shaky breath, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. “I-I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he admits, his voice barely audible. “I thought … I thought I was ready to move on.”

Your hand stays steady on his shoulder, grounding him. “You gave everything for glory,” you say gently. “For Ferrari. For the Tifosi. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to let go.”

Charles shakes his head, tears streaming down his face as he watches his brother, his nephew. “I don’t know if I can,” he chokes out. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

You don’t rush him. You let him stand there, watching, crying. He can feel your quiet strength beside him, your understanding. You’ve seen it all before, but for him, it’s new, raw, overwhelming.

Lorenzo leans down, pressing a kiss to his newborn son’s head. “He’s going to know all about you,” Lorenzo murmurs. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Charles can’t stop the sob that escapes him this time. He crumples forward, his hands covering his face as the grief finally spills over, uncontrollable. He feels like he’s breaking apart, like everything he’s held inside for so long is crashing down around him.

And then, you’re there. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, letting him cry into your shoulder. You don’t say anything, but your presence is enough. It’s steady, grounding, and for the first time since he’s been here, Charles feels like he isn’t alone in his grief.

He cries for a long time, the emotions pouring out of him in waves. He cries for the life he left behind, for the family he didn’t get to see again, for the child named after him who will never know him. And through it all, you stay with him, holding him, comforting him.

When the sobs finally subside, Charles pulls back slightly, wiping at his eyes. He feels raw, drained, but there’s a sense of release, too — like something heavy has been lifted from his chest.

“He’s going to be okay,” you say softly, your voice gentle. “Lorenzo will take care of him. He’ll grow up knowing who you were, what you meant.”

Charles nods, his throat too tight to speak. He looks back at the hospital bed, at Lorenzo and Charlotte, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of something like peace in his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

You smile softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You don’t have to thank me.”

But he does. Because in this moment, he knows he couldn’t have faced this alone. Not without you.

Charles watches his brother one last time, his heart heavy but full. And though he knows he can never return to the life he once had, there’s a strange sense of comfort in knowing that a part of him still exists in the world — in the form of the tiny child cradled in Charlotte’s arms.

“I’ll watch over him,” Charles says softly, his voice steady now. “I promise.”

***

The air between you is different today. Charles can feel it before you even say a word. It's in the way your eyes linger on him a little longer, the way your silence stretches. You’ve been together for what feels like an eternity, yet time is meaningless here.

He looks at you, waiting for the explanation, the gentle unspooling of whatever truth you’re about to offer him.

Finally, you speak. “I think you’re ready.”

Charles frowns. “Ready for what?”

“To move on.”

The words hang in the air, heavier than he expected. His chest tightens, and he shakes his head, the instinctual reaction coming out almost before you finish speaking.

“I don’t want to move on.” His voice is sharp, edged with panic. He doesn’t fully understand what “moving on” means, but he knows it sounds final. It sounds like goodbye, and he’s not ready for that. Not now. Not after everything. Not after you.

You watch him quietly, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “Charles, you’ve already moved on in so many ways. This-” you gesture between the two of you, “-this isn’t goodbye.”

He stares at you, his mind racing. “Then what is it? You’re telling me I have to leave, but I can’t — I can’t leave you.”

You laugh softly, the sound rich with irony. “I’m death, Charles. You’re dead. Why would you have to leave me?”

The realization hits him, and his protest falters. His hands fall to his sides as he processes what you’re saying. You’re death, and he’s already passed beyond life. There’s no need to fear separation, because you are intertwined with whatever comes next.

“So, I’m not really going anywhere?” He asks, cautiously hopeful.

“Not in the way you think,” you assure him, your voice softening. “But this place — it isn’t where you belong anymore. There’s something else waiting for you.”

Charles exhales slowly, relief and uncertainty swirling in his chest. “Something else?”

You step closer, your hand reaching out to brush against his arm. “You’ve done everything you needed to do here. You’ve won. You’ve found peace with your family. Now … it’s time.”

He looks into your eyes, searching for something — reassurance, maybe. He’s been with you through all of this, and yet, the idea of leaving this limbo, this stillness, feels daunting.

You tilt your head slightly. “Trust me.”

He wants to. He does. But there’s a tightness in his throat, a reluctance that refuses to fade. “What if I don’t want to go?” He murmurs, almost to himself.

You give him a knowing look. “Charles, you’re not going anywhere that I can’t follow.”

Something in him eases at your words. He nods, but there’s still a lingering hesitation. His life — his death — has been defined by choices. Choices to race, to sacrifice, to push past every limit. Now, there’s nothing left to fight, no championship to chase. This is the last choice he’ll have to make, and the finality of it shakes him.

“Okay,” he says, his voice quieter than he expects.

You smile, your fingers wrapping around his hand. “Come with me.”

The stillness of limbo shatters. The world around them changes, the coldness and vast emptiness giving way to something warm and vibrant. Colors he hasn’t seen in years flood his vision — deep blues, rich greens, and the golden light of a sun he hasn’t felt in what seems like forever.

Charles blinks, trying to make sense of where he is. There’s no pain, no exhaustion, just … peace. He stands there for a moment, taking it in, but then, something — someone — catches his eye.

He freezes, his heart — or whatever’s left of it — stopping in his chest.

Jules.

Jules is standing just a few feet away, watching him with that same familiar smile. The smile Charles grew up with, the one that got him through the hardest days.

His breath catches, and before he can stop himself, he runs.

It’s instinctive, like muscle memory, like he’s a kid again chasing after his godfather. His feet carry him faster than he thought possible, and when he reaches Jules, he throws himself into his arms without hesitation.

The warmth of the embrace floods through him, and Charles buries his face in Jules’ shoulder, a sob catching in his throat. He clings to him like he’s afraid to let go, the weight of everything — of life, of death, of everything in between — finally crashing down on him.

“I missed you,” Charles chokes out, his voice thick with emotion.

Jules laughs softly, holding him tight. “I missed you too, mon caneton.”

It’s overwhelming, this feeling of reunion. The tears fall freely now, and Charles can’t stop them, doesn’t want to stop them. He’s never cried like this before, not even when he won, not even when he died. But now, in the arms of someone who meant so much to him, it feels like everything is breaking free.

He pulls back, wiping at his face, but before he can say anything else, another voice breaks through the haze.

“Charles.”

Charles turns, his breath catching again as his eyes land on his father. He’s standing there, just a few feet away, watching his son with eyes full of pride.

“Papa …” The word slips from his lips, almost a whisper.

And then he’s running again, straight into his father’s arms. He feels like a child, all over again, seeking comfort and love and everything he’s missed. Hervé holds him, strong and steady, and for the first time in years, Charles feels like he’s truly home.

“I’m so proud of you,” Hervé murmurs, his voice full of emotion. “You did everything you said you would.”

Charles pulls back, his hands gripping his father’s shoulders as he looks at him, tears still streaming down his face. “I did it, Papa. I won.”

“I know,” Hervé says softly, his eyes shining. “I always knew you would.”

Charles nods, his throat too tight to speak. The pride in his father’s eyes is everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s ever worked for.

But then, he turns.

You’re still standing there, watching quietly from a distance. Charles’ heart twists at the sight of you, at the thought of everything you’ve been through together. You’ve guided him, stayed with him, and now … now he understands.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with gratitude.

He steps forward, closing the distance between you, and when he reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your skin as he leans in.

His lips meet yours, soft and gentle, and in that moment, everything else fades away. There’s no race, no championship, no death. Just the two of you, together, in this place beyond life and time.

When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours, and he knows.

You smile at him, your eyes soft. “Glory was worth it, wasn’t it?”

Charles nods, his throat tight. “Yeah,” he whispers. “It was worth it.”

And somewhere, in the distance, the ticking starts again.

For someone else.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He knows what he has to do. The weight of it settles into his chest like a stone, cold and heavy, suffocating the brief warmth of your kiss. His hands tremble as they slip away from your face, his fingers lingering for just a second longer, as if he can’t quite let go.

But he has to.

His breath shudders, a ragged thing that cuts through the silence. His lips part, but no words come out. There’s nothing left to say. You see the understanding in his eyes — he knows the truth now, the path that’s been laid out in front of him since the moment he died.

He belongs with them.

With Jules. With his father.

Not with you.

He turns, slowly, his back to you now. And just like that, the warmth is gone. It’s like the sun has disappeared from the sky, leaving nothing but the cold, endless void.

You want to stop him, call out his name, reach for him, something, anything, but the words die in your throat. He doesn’t belong to you. He never did.

“Charles …” you whisper, though you know he can’t hear you anymore. He’s already too far away. Already slipping through your fingers like sand.

He walks toward them — Jules and Hervé — his pace steady, purposeful. The space between you grows wider with every step, a chasm opening up that you can never hope to cross.

Jules smiles at him, that same familiar smile, the one that Charles would have given anything to see again. And his father … God, the pride in Hervé’s eyes is almost too much to bear. It’s everything Charles ever wanted. Everything he fought for, died for.

But you …

You stand there, watching.

Helpless. Silent. Alone.

Charles doesn’t look back. Not once.

You knew he wouldn’t.

You knew this moment was coming from the second you saw him in Melbourne, when his time started ticking. You were never meant to keep him. You were just a part of his story — a brief chapter in the long, winding tale of his life and death.

And now, that chapter is closing.

The void stretches before them, a vast expanse of nothingness, and as Charles reaches the edge, Jules and Hervé step forward to greet him. They wrap their arms around him, pulling him into their embrace, and for a moment — just a moment — Charles is home.

He glances over his shoulder, but not at you. His eyes skim past you, unseeing.

“Thank you,” he whispers, but the words aren’t for you. They’re for the life he left behind. The glory. The fame. The endless pursuit of something more.

And then he steps into the void.

You feel it before you see it — the pull, the way the world shifts as he crosses the threshold. It’s like a part of the universe is being torn away, a piece of the puzzle you’ve held together for so long is finally gone. And you’re left behind, standing on the edge, watching as they fade into the distance.

The ticking stops.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re alone.

It’s funny, in a way. You’ve spent eons like this — watching souls come and go, guiding them from one world to the next. But with Charles, it was different. He stayed. He stayed longer than anyone else, long enough for you to feel something you weren’t supposed to feel.

Loneliness. Loss.

You told him you couldn’t be left behind, that death doesn’t experience separation, but that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because now, as you stand there in the cold, empty void, watching the space where Charles once stood, you feel it — truly feel it — for the first time.

Heartbreak.

It’s a strange, hollow thing, the way it grips your chest, squeezes your lungs until you can’t breathe. You’ve seen it a thousand times, watched as humans crumbled under the weight of it, but this is different. This is personal.

This is yours.

He’s gone. He made his choice. And even though you knew it would end this way, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You take a step back, your feet moving of their own accord, retreating from the edge of the void. There’s no point in staying here. There’s nothing left to hold on to.

Charles is gone.

You close your eyes, trying to push down the ache in your chest, but it won’t go away. It lingers, sharp and raw, reminding you of what could have been, of the brief moments you shared that weren’t supposed to matter but now feel like everything.

For a second — just a second — you wish things had been different. That you could have kept him. That maybe, just maybe, you could have been something more than death. Something more than a shadow in the background of his life.

But that’s not who you are.

You open your eyes, the void still stretching out before you, endless and unforgiving.

Somewhere, far in the distance, the ticking starts for someone else. Another life, another death, another story to watch unfold.

But none of them will be Charles.

You’ll carry him with you, even if he never looks back. Even if he forgets your face. You’ll remember the way he smiled at you in the moments between life and death. You’ll remember the way his voice cracked when he thanked you.

And you’ll remember the way he kissed you, soft and brief, like a goodbye he couldn’t quite say.

You’ll remember it all.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest part.

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yanderenightmare · 4 months ago

Text

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: captive reader, no-name character deaths, Sukuna in general

fem reader

Sukuna, in his true form some thousand years ago, carrying you on his arm so that your feet and dress don’t stain with the blood on the floor. A sea of carnage he’d laid to waste only a moment ago—soldiers sent to slaughter the monster’s concubine, a heathenness whore. They’d fallen no different from flowers trampled underfoot.

It's a tragedy. If anyone could free you from his prison, it would have been them.

A heavy finger catches the tear dribbling down your face before it can fall to join the red below. “Don’t water them with your tears,” he says, bringing the droplet to his lips. “Not even in death do they deserve it.”

You view his second face—the warped array of eyes upon an inhuman mask—as a punishment from the Gods for his vile ways.

“Did you think I’d find it flattering?” you ask sharply through the sorrow. “Murder in my name?”

Nothing betrays the look in his garnet eyes, nor does the way he holds you. He simply lets you sit there, upon him like a thrown, admonishing him no less—as if he hadn’t just saved your life from a thousand swords.

“I don’t,” you bite out when he doesn’t answer. “It sickens me. I curse whichever part of me attracted such a monster.”

That makes him smile. “I’m afraid that’s all of you, turtledove.” He turns you around in his many arms and lays you to rest like a bride. “From your toes to the finest hair atop your head—I covet it all—like treasure.”

He doesn’t rush while wading through the filth who’d tried to take you away from him, basking in their still-warm blood as if soaking his feet with their failure. He would have made it long-lasting if they’d come close enough to breathe the same air as you. But since you’d begged for him to spare them, he’d acted with mercy—making their deaths quick and all but painless.

The things he does for you.

“Does it frighten you to be the only one I care about?” he asks.

You look disgusted. He finds it rather cute.

“No,” you reply. “It simply hurts.”

He throws his head back and laughs then—boisterously. The echo rings throughout the temple, even making ripples in the red. When he looks down at you again, he bears a great smile.

“Fine then, as you wish.” Evidence of his amusement remains while he speaks. “I won’t subject you to any more carnage from this moment onward.”

You know better than to take him for his word—especially when that awful grin stretches his face.

“No, I shall rather keep you tucked away where no one will ever dare go looking—and before I even dare come see you myself, I’ll make sure to have washed the filth off first so as not to trouble your pretty head with my savage habits. Now, does that sound satisfactory to you, my Queen?”

He’s mocking you, you surmise—cooing at you, laughing at the way you mourn. But it shouldn’t surprise you. If he can rip people to shreds without so much as batting any of his eyes, making light of their deaths isn’t all that more of an offense.

“All this inanity has given me an appetite,” he states with a hearty sigh—dismissing any further argument. “Let’s find Uraume and eat.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

#yandere sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna ryomen #yandere sukuna #yandere ryomen sukuna

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starsofang · 4 months ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not much for this chapter, but as always, be cautious! a/n: so sorry for the wait, this chapter isn't as long as the others but i'm in the process of moving! i'll be moved in by late next week, so when that happens, i'll finally have more time to deliver longer parts and be more active! <3 masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“You let her get away.”

“S’not like I meant to, Cap,” Soap defended, scowling to himself.

The four men stood in Price’s quarters, all shoulders equally tensed and expressions grim. While Gaz and Ghost remained quiet thus far, the intensity rolled off of them menacingly. Soap could practically see the sourness fill the air.

“But you did,” Price reiterated, slamming his palm on the table. It shook the room, quill holders rumbling and threatening to spill onto the floor. “We already take a risk havin’ her on our ship until she grows accustomed to livin’ here. How could you be so careless?”

“Can ye blame her?” Soap spat back. The men fell silent with Price narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “The poor lass watched the four of us burn her village down. Then we took her in like a fit of scoundrels. I don’t blame her for runnin’ off the way she did.”

Price kept his mouth shut, pressed in a firm line. His shoulders were squared, an argument threatening to spill out, yet he didn’t encourage it. After all, Soap had a point, but they weren’t supposed to care. It was a simple part of being savages.

“She’ll understand eventually—“

“But she won’t,” Soap cut Price off, leaning his hands on the table to match the Captain’s. The two of them stared long and hard at one another. “We don’t even understand, so what makes ye think she will?”

“Soap,” Ghost warned. Soap’s gaze flickered over to the masked man, whose eyes were darkened with warning. Gaz shifted uncomfortably from beside him. “Watch your tongue.”

Soap opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Price raised his palm, requesting silence. The look on his face was unreadable, but the sign of authority was clear.

“You need to get your head out of the trenches, Soap,” Price warned. “Carin’ for her will only have you throwin’ yourself overboard, and that’s not somethin’ I can save you from. We needed a medic, and she was in the right place at the right time. That is all.”

“So ye don’t have the slightest bit of sympathy for her, s’that right, Cap?” Soap asked, eyes narrowing in on the Captain.

“There is no place in this world for sympathy,” Price responded meekly. “Let alone for her.”

“And for us?” Soap questioned, gesturing to the other two men in the room.

“You are my men,” Price grunted. “She is an unlucky woman that came from rags rather than riches. That is to no fault but her own. You forget your place, Soap.”

Though Price had remained calm, Soap could see the building aggravation. It was in the way the Captain’s hands clenched atop the table, his eyes glossed over with a heated fire from being rebutted.

“It seems yer forgettin’ yers as well, Captain,” Soap muttered bitterly.

The atmosphere was so thick, it was suffocating. Not a single man said another word, caught in a deadly stare down. It was a rarity to challenge Price’s authority, let alone over an unfortunate woman who they had ruined all on their own.

If Soap’s words affected Price, he didn’t make it known. Rather, his irritability was evidence, and he appeared to be fighting off any resentment towards his own crew.

“Get out,” Price uttered, voice low, but the notion was clear. “All of you.”

Nobody argued. Rather, they filed out one by one, Price’s door slamming on the way out.

Ghost grumbled when just the three of them remained, stalking off to his own quarters for the night.

Gaz joined Soap in watching the masked man leave. It wasn’t until he was fully out of sight did Gaz speak.

“You have a point, Soap,” Gaz said quietly, slapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good luck makin’ Cap see that.”

Gaz gave him another squeeze of his hand before sauntering off himself, leaving Soap alone on the upper deck, the summer air suddenly feeling frigid and bitter.

The cell was suffocating you all over again. You missed the feel of a bed, the soft furs that lined Price’s bed that showered you in comforting warmth for the night, the flood of fresh air in your lungs.

Part of you felt like you took it for granted. The bitter part of you, though, knew that you deserved to have those things without being in the possession of a pirate.

The shoes Soap left you taunted you from the corner of the cell. They mocked you, called you ungrateful. It painted you with an uncomfortable guilt that settled deep in your bones.

You shouldn’t feel bad for a bunch of savages, but what kind of savages would think to surprise you with shoes, even picking out ones that you might like? You couldn’t speak for the others, but Soap had shed a light of humanity in a time where you needed it, and you had fucked that up.

Now, you wanted it more than ever. The cell was cold and unwelcoming, and you missed the taste of freedom you were given so shortly.

It felt as if you were back at square one. For the first day, nobody came to offer you food like before. Your stomach grumbled with a might that had you coiled over, silently crying into your hands. The second night was torturous, and it felt as if your own stomach was beginning to feast on itself.

The third night, however, was when you were finally graced with sympathy.

What greeted you, or more so who, had taken you by surprise. Expecting Soap or Gaz, or even Ghost to degrade you for being so stupid, you were instead faced with the Captain himself.

Price stood with a steaming bowl of stew and another bowl of simple rice. The sight of it had your mouth watering and your stomach gurgling in desperation.

“Hello, dove,” he offered, his tone surprisingly soft compared to the spitefulness he held days before. It still held authority, one you didn’t think would ever rid itself, but it wasn’t as angry as expected.

You gave him a nod in response but said nothing. A touch of dread crept up your spine. He was all too calm to you, who had nearly sent his men to unforeseeable death.

Price balanced the two bowls on one arm so he could unlock your cell door and step inside. Once in, he carefully placed the bowls on the ground in front of you where you sat, taking a cautious step back.

As much as you wanted to devour the food without. a second thought, you remained frozen and stubborn. You stared at the bowls of hot food before shifting up to look at him. When he gave you a nod in confirmation, that was all you needed to begin eating.

Eating was the nicer word. Demolishing was more accurate.

You didn’t bother to eat with the spoon given, rather you used your hands to grab a fistful of rice and guzzle it down. Grains of rice stuck to your face around your mouth, showing an embarrassing display. You were so hungry you didn’t care.

“Slow down,” Price ordered. You paused in your eating, glancing up at him. He didn’t look angry, but he did look a bit disturbed at your desperation.

Flustered, you swallowed the food down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Picking up the spoon in the stew, you ate it with eagerness but allowed yourself some decency.

Price was silent as you ate, standing with his arms crossed, watching. You were too enraptured in the meal to care, even if you look distasteful. The food had never tasted this good before, and you weren't sure whether it was because you were starving, or because somebody else cooked.

You imagined the pirates in the kitchen together, chopping vegetables and meat to place it in a pot, using an array of spices. Arguing over who got to do what, disagreeing with a choice of meal for the day.

It gave them a small sense of normality in your mind, even eliciting a small laugh from you. Price’s face contorted in confusion, wondering what could possibly be funny, especially in times like this. You, locked in a cell, given the worst hand the world could’ve given you, finding something joyful enough to laugh through it.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re laughin’?” Price gruffed.

You swallowed down your food, peering up at him from where you sat on the floor. “I was just imagining Soap and Ghost arguing over who gets to cook,” you confessed, looking back down at your food. “I apologize. It is not funny.”

You could feel Price’s stare. The air was silent, tense, before he ultimately broke it. “Ghost is the one that cooks,” he explained. “Used to be a butcher back in his day.”

“A butcher?” you repeated, pondering. The mask Ghost flaunted made him mysterious and concealed. You would’ve never imagined him as a butcher, though the more you thought about it, the more it clicked. “That seems to make quite a bit of sense, actually.”

“Does it?” Price hummed with the telltale sign of amusement. It was hardly evident. “Yes, I believe it does. Explains why he’s so good with a knife, aye?”

You grimaced at that. Ghost was certainly good in combat, that was something you could see from the jump. You just didn’t want to envision who and what he uses it on.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot,” Price began. The words took you by surprise. “Might have ruffled too many of your little feathers too soon.”

“That is a severe understatement,” you muttered. Price shot you a look, successfully shutting you up.

“We do not normally have others on our ship. If we have treated you with hostility, then I apologize. You must understand the walls we have built up, you see,” he explained.

“Then why have you taken me if you are going to treat me as a mere rat?” you asked. He sniffed, feigning disinterest. “I thought you appointed me as a medic. It does not feel as though you are true to your word. Is there perhaps another reason for kidnapping me that you are not telling me?”

Price was quiet, eyes wandering off elsewhere. He appeared in thought, as if debating something heavily in his mind.

“No,” he finally said, hesitating. “You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I do not apologize for taking you, but I do… sympathize. Perhaps I should’ve been kinder.”

“Perhaps,” you repeated, albeit a tad bitterly. Price was unfazed by the subtle resentment you held. He didn’t seem to care at all. He was a hard man to read, even harder than Ghost. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that was dangerous.

Price cleared his throat, the aura of awkwardness smothering him. It was evident to you that he wasn’t used to being kind and having to resolve with someone. You briefly wondered what made him change his mind.

“You are right,” he continued. “We took you in to be our medic. Medics cannot work in a cell.”

Price took a step back to leave the cell, yet the door remained open. He gestured for you to step out, to join him. You were weary, slowly standing from your spot and taking a skeptical step out of the cell.

“I will give you the choice in who you wish to stay with until we can arrange a space for you to sleep.” Price began stepping up the stairs that led to the upper deck, so you silently followed. “If you wish to stay with me again, that is fine. But if you wish to stay with Gaz or Soap, that can be arranged as well.”

“No Ghost?” you asked in, dare you say, amusement.

“Unless you would like to be strangled in your sleep, I would not advise it,” he responded.

“That was a jest, Captain. I know how to pick my battles.”

Price paused in front of the doors to the upper deck, turning to you. He stared for a long moment, before you saw the tiniest of smiles play at his lips. It was buried under his facial hair, but from the slight crinkle in his eyes, you knew.

“You’re quite the wise bird, I’ll give you that,” he mused, before opening the doors. “Up you go.”

The moonlight soaked into your skin the moment you stepped out of the brig. It was inviting, basking you in the warmth you so craved. The air was crisp, and you breathed it in heavily through your nostrils, your body immediately faltering in relief.

Oh, how you missed the outside. Though your stay in the brig was much shorter than when you first arrived, it was still just as alleviating to get a taste of being human again.

“You will stay with me for the night,” he explained, guiding you across the creaky decks. “The others are already in their rooms. Tomorrow, you can decide who you prefer.”

You gave him a nod in acknowledgment, following him quietly to his quarters. When you arrived, the familiar scent of musk and cinnamon invaded your nostrils. For a pirate, it was a comforting smell, and you found a strange solace in it.

“I’m sure you wish to bathe, yes?” he asked.

A bath sounded heavenly. To wipe the grime and sweat off your skin, to feel clean again. You would’ve jumped into the dark sea if it meant bathing.

“You do not mind?” you questioned, suspicious.

“You’ll be sleepin’ in my cot for the night. I’d prefer if you were unsoiled. No bad blood, aye?”

Price’s boots were heavy against the floors as he made his way to the back of his quarters, where a lone curtain hung. Pulling it back, he exposed a wooden bowl, large enough to fit you, but certainly a squeeze for him.

A barrel stood behind the bath, and Price made haste to lift it with ease. Water began to pour out of the spout, slowly but surely filling the makeshift tub.

While he worked, your eyes wandered to glance around his quarters. When staying in it previously, you didn’t have the gall to be curious. Now that the two of you were on good enough terms to be acquaintances for now, you allowed yourself to be a bit nosy.

The walls were littered with pinned up maps, all varying in land. You hadn’t a clue where everything was, so none of it made sense to you. However, upon looking over to his desk, you saw another map, one unlike the others.

This one was written on with the ink of a quill. You weren’t sure the location, however, it seemed to be a mixture.

Over some of the islands graphed on the map, a large X was drawn in its place. They were crossed out with the ink, covering up the names printed over the location, deeming it impossible to read.

However, two locations were circled rather than crossed out. One was in the middle of the sea, not a piece of land or island in sight. The other was circled around a small island, tucked away from the Mainland, its name unknown. Beside it, a scrap piece of paper sat.

“The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

Washed away to land and shore

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

Find the one that you shall seek

to end the curse of Shadow’s Peak.”

As you finished reading, a large hand came into view, slamming over the poem. Price loomed over you, leaning against the table.

“Go and bathe,” he ordered. “I will leave you alone to do your bidding and return when you’re done.”

Jostled by the surprise appearance, you offered a meek nod, sauntering off to the tub. As Price left, he rolled up the map as well as the poem, tucking them under his arm and leaving no trace of what you witnessed behind. He had something to hide, it was clear, but you couldn’t decipher the meaning of the passage you read.

Perhaps he was simply a writer. It would explain why he seemed defensive that you saw it, but it wouldn’t explain the map. He also didn’t seem the type to sit at his desk and meddle with written poetry. He was a Captain, and his priorities lied with the men on his ship and the thievery of neighboring villages.

Now left alone in the quarters, you willed yourself into the bath, sinking into the water. It wasn’t warm nor cold, but it was relaxing anyway, biting away the tension in your muscles. You were in desperate need of it, and you were grateful you and Price were at a standstill where he allowed you the pleasure.

While you tried to rid yourself of what you saw, it kept creeping in in waves, burdening you with questions unanswered. Even after you scrubbed away the caked dirt until your skin was raw and changed into clean garments that Price tugged out for you, the sense of unease never went away. You felt tainted, like a lingering darkness was coursing through your veins and oozing from your skin.

The garments you wore were large. They overtook your body, swallowing you whole, but they were much better in comparison to the rags that hung from your body, dirtied with nasty impurity. You didn’t know how to feel about the Captain after everything, but he was showing you humility, and that was enough for you right now. It was the best you could make out of being kidnapped by the four of them and thrown in a life of chaos and uncertainty.

As you tucked yourself into Price’s cot, you took one last glance to the maps that remained on the walls. None were like the one you had seen, not a scribble nor blotch tainting the paper. The one Price held was special, and you knew you’d be fighting tooth and nail in order to find out. Until then, you could let yourself relax. After all the torment you’d been through, you deserved a moment of peace before everything imploded once again.

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diejager · 1 year ago

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Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention.

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes.

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument.

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body.

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail.

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him.

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight.

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours.

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures.

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you.

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home.

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him.

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him.

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty.

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind.

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition.

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to.

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition.

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you.

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live.

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much.

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures.

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room.

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making.

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal.

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue.

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave.

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him.

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying.

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh.

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back.

“You’re happy, ja?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan

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fhrlclln · 4 months ago

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underneath | qimir

SUMMARY -> ever since you found him and he trained you, he had always concealed his identity to you for his unknown reasons. you were always curious what he looks like underneath the cortosis helm he wears. though, this time the curiosity in you would be sated at last when a particular sparring session turns into an unexpected lesson in trust.

qimir x acolyte!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> mild nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, sexual tension, mild violence, master/pupil dynamic & smut is at the end : P

WC -> 2.82k

a/n: surprise! another qimir fic cuz i can’t get him out of my head.

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

"have you ever wondered what he looks like underneath that mask?"

you asked your fellow pupil, mae, one day out of the blue. the particular reason for asking that question had always been because of your undying curiosity for the years you started to train under him.

your masked master.

"i don't." mae would answer, saying that she doesn't care what he would look like underneath the mask. saying that as long as he trains her, his identity doesn't matter to her. you understood her with that, she was his acolyte first and it probably dawned upon you that the years of concealing his identity to her she had thrown away the curiosity of what their master looked like.

but on the other hand, you, you somehow couldn't stop wondering.

you had found him or- he had found you when you were escaping your slave captors after your own sister had betrayed you in selling you to them. you were angry, in rage and unaware of the dormant power that had awoken in you with that rage you had felt. and in your fit of rage, you had managed to slaughter two of the captors chasing you, leaving you feeling guilty for your horrendous actions. you decided to escape and flee the planet. that is until by some chance, you had come across the masked stranger in the middle of the night who had told you about the gift you possessed, telling that you shouldn't be ashamed you used it in your self-defense.

and that's when he had took you under his wing, training you as his pupil.

he had taught you what your gift was, what your power is. he trained you, taught you and for the most part, despite him putting this distance between you and mae, he had helped you. and maybe that’s why you’re so curious to know who he is really, you wanted to see the master who had graciously accepted you despite you knowing your connection with the force was not as strong as mae’s.

he was… well, you could not really put a strong opinion on what kind of a man your master was. for the most part, he was always away and in training sessions, he was closed-off and distant. but when he spars with you and mae, that’s when a hint of his personality is peeking through.

rough, aggressive, strict. the way he spared with you had left you with tired sore knees and bruised arms when defending. on the offensive attacks you made he was quick to dodge and maneuver himself with your predictable attacks. he was ruthless in his combat but there was still that fluidity in it. but you knew he still held back with you despite the aggressiveness. you wished he had put more effort in your sparring sessions just like mae’s but you knew he was focusing more on her since she was at the brink of completing her lessons.

“safe travels, mae.” you wish her luck as she nods at you. the master had given her final lesson- to kill a jedi without a weapon. you were proud of your fellow acolyte but it did upset you how much you were falling behind. the waves splash in the background as you watch her walk to her ship. you wave her off as you saw it fly out the cloudy atmosphere then jumped into hyperspace, on the course to euda.

the sea breeze helps you gather your thoughts, and you wonder if the master would train you further today. seeing that mae had to learn this lesson by herself. sensing him, you feel the pull of the force as you turn around to see your master standing a few feet away from you.

the scene makes you remember that night when you found him. for a moment it did frighten you to see him loom over you when you fell to your knees from running. you were injured then and you had momentarily thought he was one of the slave traders that was trying to capture you. it took you a while to get used to him being like this when he appears out of the blue. well, for a random person, it would seem frightening to see a masked stranger dressed in black robes suddenly appear in mid-air. plus the saber tucked in his belt.

“master.” you greet him, anticipation lingering inside you.

“we shall continue your training today, my acolyte.” his modulated voice says. you feel your chest swell with excitement as you nodded. “be prepared.”

“of course, master.” you bowed slightly as he walks off to where the sparring lessons usually are. you smiled to yourself, maybe this time he’d finally put more effort in your training as you walk with a slight spring in your steps.

・゜゜・．

“focus.”

he says as your feet scraped against the rocks at his force push. you huff, your chest heaving, your leather tunic is starting to stick on your glistening sweaty skin, making you feel uncomfortable. you sigh, frustrated how you were not landing a single blow on him. your mind was elsewhere, seeming that you are still focused on wondering what he looks like underneath that mask.

“use that frustration. focus on your emotions.” he commands and you composed yourself, swatting the questions of his unknown face in your head. you ready yourself in a fighting stance, body facing to the side while you wave your arm in front of you. you clenched your fist for a moment as you heed into his words and attack. you use the force to heighten your leap towards him as you land a blow but he dodges again. an uppercut, he doges, a kick you do he dodges again. you feel yourself get even more irritated but in ease that he was finally not holding back when he blocks one of your blows with his arm.

but still, you were still not fighting the way he has to expect you to fight.

“you are too trustful in me, acolyte.” he scolds you, the modulated tone ringing. he backs away from you as you stopped, confused. yes, you indeed trust him, why was it a bad thing?

“i beg your pardon, master?” your breaths are labored and somehow from the close distance, you could hear him sigh underneath the mask.

“you are too trustful.” he says again. “do not trust me that i will not kill you even if i am training you. trust in yourself. we cannot continue this lesson if you do not learn to do that.” a chill runs through your spine at his words. there’s a slight pang of hurt in those words of his that were true. yes, he could kill you. why wouldn’t he if you failed him? you seem to stiffen at his words as he reminds you again, this time he will take the offensive attack.

“trust is a fragile thing. you cannot trust anyone but yourself, my acolyte. even if the person has sworn to trust you, they would eventually betray you. but yourself? you cannot betray yourself.” he explains as you nodded at his words. “when since you had put your whole trust in someone and they betrayed you in the end?”

you look at him, rage starting to boil in you when you remembered your own sister’s betrayal. your chest tightens and your mind is enraged with it. the pain she had put you in, the survival you had to do, the running you had to tire and the people you had to kill just to be free-

“there it is.” he says, proud. feeling your ever glowing rage.

“now, focus.” he suddenly attacks you as you dodged swiftly. both of you move in a tandem, as if it were a dance. the painful realization that even your master, the one who saved you and took you in, would eventually might betray you as well. the rage in you is at its boiling point as you let out a guttural scream when he almost aims for your neck. you push him back with your force then surging to him with heat in your steps as you attacked. he blocks your powerful blow with two of his arms forming an x. you kick him immediately on the stomach and he lurches, caught off guard.

you were too in to your emotions as you attacked and attacked. he tries to doge and block your every hit but he eventually succumbs to your rage when you finally kicked him to the ground. before he could stand, you immediately come on top of him, preventing that. you fist the collar of his robe, clenched hand in the air ready to land a final punch-

“excellent, my acolyte.” he cuts you off as you suddenly blink back into your rational self. you let go of his collar and you let yourself relax but ultimately surprised how close you are to him. you’re on top of him, your legs caging his waist and he seems not to dismiss you to get off. you can see clearly his helmet now, it was full of marks of previous battles. you take your time to admire him beneath you, how his adam’s apple bob and the sheen of sweat covering his bare muscular arms that were bulging with veins.

you blush, realizing you were staring at your master with ill thoughts.

but… the curiosity of what he looks like underneath it makes you wonder. your hand slowly comes up to his helmet and you feel him watch you with every move you make. he observes silently and you hovered your hand above his masked face. but you snap out of it again, realizing you could have offended him. and he could kill you for this. you know he takes great lengths to conceal his identity.

“a-apologies, master, i-“ before you could retract your hand and get off him. his hand suddenly grips your wrist. your eyes widened as he sits up and you adjust, hovering above his lap. he tilts his head to the side inquisitively, as if he was amused to see your curiosity be revealed. you stay quiet, staring at his masked face, waiting for his words. your cheeks are hot and you feel the anticipation grow in you. he places your hand on the side of his mask, the way he brushes your fingers softly makes you feel wobbly now.

“go on.” he merely says. you stutter, not knowing what to say. did he just agreed for you to remove his mask? your thoughts are jumbled but you succumb to your curiosity. you put both of your hands to both sides of his masked face. you slowly remove it inch by inch whilst you stared at the peaking facial features you have longed imagined what he looked like. you remove the helm completely and your heart skips a beat.

your eyes meet with a strangely beautiful dark ones.

his black hair is disheveled, his skin is smooth and his jawline is handsomely well chiseled. your eyes roam his face and it settles to his pink lips. you feel a hum of arousal between your legs when you look into his eyes again. his face is so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath tingle your lips. you put his helmet down to your side as the other brushes the black locks of his concealing his face. his pupils grow dark, your lips are inches to his and you somehow feel in-trance to lock it with yours.

this, this is the face of your master.

he’s beautiful. you think as you let out a noise when his other hand brush against your thigh. the other gently grips your hand that brushed his hair. you wondered why he had hidden his beautiful face from you and mae.

“master…” you plead as he smirks and it makes you blush.

“you did good today.” his low voice with a rasp of approval instead of the modulated one made your stomach churn and your thighs clench. the way his lips are still hovering above yours makes your head dizzy with the anticipation of what he’s doing. his top lip brushes against yours and he leans forward but before you could feel his soft lips lock with yours, you pull back. this is wrong.

“apologies, master.” you place your hands on his chest as you pulled yourself up to your feet. he seems taken aback for a moment with your rejection but composes himself as he eyes you up with a dark glint in his eyes.

“curiosity is normal. don’t be embarrassed.” he chuckles and that rings through your ears. the way he acts now is dissimilar to when he has his mask on and it baffles you how human he now is. you don’t know what to say, fearing that you have failed him in almost every way. you watch him stand up then grabbed his helmet and he looks at you. something in his gaze shines with hunger.

“we’ll continue our lesson another time.” he walks pass you and the brush of his arm against yours makes your heart jump.

“yes, master.” the initial shock of the situation still hasn’t faded when he’s out of your sight. you gulp, sweat dripping down your forehead. was he not upset that you know his face now? would he kill you for it later perhaps? those questions hang in the air. your heart still beats remembering his lips close to yours. you turn back, walking back to the shore, there’s a feeling you can’t seem to place as you let your thoughts linger on your master’s revealed face.

・゜゜・．

you dry your face with a rag then pulled a fresh tunic and bottoms from your pile of fresh clean robes. the dimness of the light inside your room in the cave made it comforting for your wild thoughts. you put on the brown tight bottoms then the grey tunic. but those thoughts soon come alive when you felt a presence near the entrance of your room.

you turn around swiftly, seeing your master standing right by the concave opening of your room. no mask on but just wearing… perfectly normal clothing. he dawned a white tunic and usual black bottoms, his hair is slicked back, damp from his bath you presumed. you stand awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. you were used to his mysterious persona.

“you did exceptionally well today.” he begins with a praise. “but, i am surprised how focused you are on knowing what i look like.”

“thank you.” you merely say, eyes shying away when he points out your curiosity. “i apologize for that, master.”

“don’t be.” he steps forward and each step he takes has an anticipation behind them. you stay in your place, taking in how comforting he looks. “i’m glad for your curiosity.” he confesses.

“you are?” you are surprised with that.

qimir nods, adoring the way you seemed so surprised. he had his reasons for concealing his identity to you and mae. it was for to create a distance between the master and pupil. he feared attachment might overcome why he took you under his wing. he knows you already saw him as a person who finally cared for you and in truth, he does. you are a gifted woman with the force and over the years despite the distance he placed, you managed to crawl into his cold heart.

“but i fear your curiosity isn’t sated enough.” he points out and the atmosphere in the room changes. you know what he means. when you had almost kissed him but you hesitated, fearing that things might change drastically after that. he was your master after all. he steps closer to you, the distance is just like the one moments ago.

“am i right?” he asks when you stare at his lips. you wondered if mae would be enraged for what you are about to do as your body moved at its own accord.

you surge forward and lock your lips with his.

and that ends up with you sprawled underneath him. your curiosity is sated and he rewards you more with a thrust of his hips with his cock inside you. you clench around him, your hands caressing the width of his broad back. here you are, your naked body pressed against his as you moan in his ear. he groans, suckling the soft flesh of your neck.

“master…” you sigh, legs wrapped around tight on his waist. his hands are holding your thighs in place as he thrusts his cock into your warm heat. he locks eyes with your heavy one and it makes him soar at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he smirks as he kisses you hotly as he grinds his hips down.

your curiosity indeed was successfully sated by him.

#qimir x reader #qimir #qimir x fem!reader #qimir smut #the stranger x reader #the stranger #manny jacinto #the acolyte #fnhrlcllnwrites

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gyuuberryy · 2 months ago

Text

from foe to forever

pairing: prince!jake x pirate!reader, ft jungwon

synopsis: when prince jake’s wild behaviour leads to his capture by you, a daring pirate, you think it's just another ransom job. but as jake discovers the excitement of life at sea, your initial plans start to unravel. amidst adventure and unexpected feelings, both of you must navigate a complex web of desires and duties, ultimately facing a choice that could transform your lives forever.

genre: enemies to lovers, adventure, humour??

warnings: suggestive content!! kissing, drinking, bratty!jake, reader is mean at first(she's a pirate so duh) but character development trust! , kidnapping, pirate behaviour, constant mentions of being thrown overboard, looting, a bad storm, angst

note: i went overboard with the writing because i just love this plot so much! and my love for strong female leads also fuelled this hehe. enjoyy~

word count: 22.2k(sorry!)

royally yours masterlist | prev:jay | next:sunghoon

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the scent of saltwater and the faint hum of night creatures drift through the open windows of the castle’s grand hall, mingling with the rich perfume of flowers and candle wax. but despite the setting’s elegance, the tension in the air is palpable.

“you will marry her, jake,” the king says, his voice a low, commanding rumble that reverberates through the vast chamber. “the alliance with her kingdom will secure our borders and ensure peace. this is not up for debate.”

jake’s heart pounds in his chest, anger and frustration boiling over. “it’s always about the kingdom, isn’t it?” he snaps, his voice cracking under the strain of suppressed emotion. “what about what i want? have you ever thought about that?”

the king’s eyes harden, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “what you want is irrelevant. you are a prince. you have duties, responsibilities—”

“duties?” jake interrupts, his voice rising. “you mean being a pawn in your political games? i’m a person, not a piece on a chessboard!”

“enough!” the king’s shout echoes off the stone walls, silencing the room. the courtiers and advisors standing along the edges glance away, uncomfortable witnesses to the familial strife. “you will do as you are told, or you will be stripped of your title. is that what you want?”

jake’s breath hitches, the threat striking deep. but instead of backing down, it fuels his rage. he turns sharply, storming out of the hall without another word, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him.

he needs to get out. away from the suffocating expectations, away from the life that feels like a gilded cage closing in around him. without a second thought, he heads for the stables, saddles his horse, and rides hard toward the port.

the port is alive with activity, even at this late hour. lanterns flicker along the docks, casting dancing shadows over crates and barrels stacked haphazardly on the cobblestone streets. the mingling scents of saltwater, fish, and the faint aroma of cooking food fill the air, blending with the murmur of voices and the occasional shout.

jake dismounts, his legs unsteady beneath him, and stumbles toward the nearest tavern. he pushes through the door, the sudden warmth and noise hitting him like a wave. the place is packed with sailors, merchants, and travellers, all jostling for space at the bar or crammed around rough wooden tables.

he makes his way to the counter, slamming a few coins down with a defiant thud. “wine,” he orders, his voice clipped, already half-regretting coming here. but the thought of returning to the castle, to the cold, judgmental eyes of his father, is unbearable.

the bartender, an older man with a weary expression, gives him a sceptical look before pouring a generous glass of deep red wine. jake downs it in one gulp, the liquid burning a path down his throat and settling like a lead weight in his stomach. he signals for another.

it doesn’t take long for the alcohol to take hold, dulling the edges of his anger, turning his thoughts sluggish and blurred. he drinks more, his head buzzing, the world tilting and swaying around him. the tavern becomes a haze of laughter and music, the faces around him blurring into a confusing swirl.

jake stands, the room spinning as he lurches toward the door. he needs air. the port outside is cooler, the breeze off the water sharp against his flushed skin. he staggers down the street, past warehouses and shipyards, the distant calls of sailors and the creak of wooden hulls filling the night.

he’s barely aware of his surroundings, his thoughts a tangled mess. his father’s voice, cold and unyielding, echoes in his mind. you will do as you are told.

his grip tightens around the empty bottle in his hand, a surge of bitterness rising in his chest. what’s the point of being a prince if he has no freedom, no say in his own life?

a sharp laugh escapes him, bitter and hollow, as he sways dangerously close to the edge of the dock, peering down at the dark water below. maybe he should just jump. see what the sea has to offer. it can’t be worse than the life he’s stuck in now.

“prince jake, making a scene again,” someone mutters, and jake spins toward the voice, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“what did you say?” he demands, his voice slurred, wavering between arrogance and vulnerability. but the speaker—a grizzled old sailor—just shakes his head and turns away, clearly not interested in a fight.

jake scoffs, tipping his bottle back for another long gulp. the wine burns down his throat, but it’s a good burn, a grounding one. the kind that keeps him from thinking too much, from feeling too much.

his father’s words echo in his mind, and he takes another drink to drown them out. it’s not fair. none of it is fair. he’s supposed to be a prince, not a puppet. he’s supposed to have choices, damn it.

somewhere in the fog of his thoughts, he hears someone calling his name. a guard, maybe, or a servant sent to drag him back to the palace. jake ignores them, staggering away, further down the docks, away from the prying eyes and the whispered gossip.

he stops near the end of the pier, where the water laps quietly against the posts, dark and deep beneath the pale moonlight. the waves are hypnotic, soothing in their endless rhythm, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over his heated skin.

“i don’t know what i want,” he mutters to the empty night. “i don’t know what i’m supposed to do…”

from the deck of your ship, you had been watching the entire scene unfold with growing amusement.

your ship had been docked for the past few days at the kingdom’s bustling port, quietly resupplying while avoiding any unwanted attention from the royal guards or port authorities. it was a place of wealth and opportunity, perfect for pirates like you to slip through the cracks and gather supplies, crew, and sometimes, new opportunities.

and tonight, an opportunity had wandered right into your line of sight.

“captain,” jungwon said quietly, his eyes also fixed on the drunken prince below. your first mate, always alert, always sharp. he stood beside you at the bow of the ship, arms crossed, the shadow of a smirk on his lips as he glanced at the scene below. “isn’t that the royal brat we’ve heard about?”

you didn’t answer at first, too busy studying the scene unfolding at the dock. prince jake—dishevelled, clearly intoxicated, and seemingly alone—was making a spectacle of himself. despite the late hour, there were still enough people around to whisper and mutter as the prince stumbled about, oblivious to their stares.

“looks like he’s having himself quite the night,” you remarked, a sly grin curling across your lips.

jungwon raised an eyebrow. “seems like he’s also forgotten he’s the heir to the kingdom. i’d bet he’s about to make a fool of himself before sunrise.”

you chuckled softly, your mind already working through the possibilities. “or… we could help him make an even bigger fool of himself.” you glanced at jungwon, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “how much do you think a prince is worth in ransom?”

jungwon’s smirk widened. “more than enough to keep us comfortable for a while.”

your gaze flicked back to jake. the wine had clearly taken hold of him, his steps becoming more erratic, his words slurred and aimless. his father had likely forced him into some political arrangement—probably that marriage you’d heard whispers of. how fitting that the prince, buckling under pressure, would run to the one place where a pirate could take advantage of him.

the idea of holding a prince for ransom made your fingers twitch with greed. the thought of the king, scrambling to rescue his son, made your heart race with anticipation. and besides, the prince was practically serving himself up to you on a silver platter.

“get the crew ready,” you ordered jungwon, stepping back from the railing. “i think it’s time we gave the good prince a proper introduction to life at sea.”

jungwon nodded, already slipping into action. the rest of the crew moved with quiet efficiency as they prepared for the impromptu kidnapping. there was no need for loud orders or clumsy manoeuvres—your crew knew how to handle this. you’d done it before, and you’d do it again. but this time, the stakes were much, much higher.

your boots clicked against the wooden planks as you descended the gangway, your crew flanking you. the night air was cool and sharp, the faint scent of seaweed and brine mixing with the distant aroma of the city behind you. as you approached the drunken prince, you couldn’t help but smile. he was still mumbling to himself, oblivious to the danger that had begun circling him.

“good evening, your highness,” you said, your voice low and dripping with mockery.

jake turned, blinking at you with bleary, confused eyes. he was handsome, you had to admit—handsome in that polished, princely way that marked him as soft, unused to the real world beyond his royal walls. his tousled hair fell into his eyes as he squinted at you, trying to make sense of your presence.

“wha—who are you?” he slurred, swaying slightly. his gaze flicked to the men behind you, then back to your face, the confusion deepening. “what… what do you want?”

you smiled, taking a slow step closer, letting him feel the weight of your presence. “oh, nothing much. just a little ransom. you know how it goes.”

jake frowned, trying to comprehend your words through the haze of alcohol. “ransom…?”

“you, my dear prince, are coming with me,” you said smoothly. “don’t worry, it’s nothing personal. just business. you understand business, right?”

he stumbled backward as your crew moved in, panic flashing across his features. “no, wait—what—what are you doing?” his voice rose, but it was too late. jungwon had already seized him by the arm, the prince’s drunken protests falling on deaf ears as your crew quickly subdued him, binding his wrists.

“you can struggle all you want,” you said, your voice calm, almost amused. “but it won’t do you any good. you’re coming aboard my ship now, your highness. congratulations, you’ve been promoted from prince to captive.”

jake cursed under his breath, his attempts at resistance clumsy and ineffective. the sight of him, so out of his element, so thoroughly unprepared for the world you inhabited, made your grin widen. he had no idea what was in store for him.

jungwon gave you a brief nod as the crew hauled jake toward the ship. “this is going to be interesting.”

“very,” you replied, your eyes still on the prince. the ransom you’d demand would be enough to keep your crew well-fed and supplied for a long time. maybe even enough to retire somewhere warm and far away.

the thought of the king’s panic when he realised his son had been taken made your blood sing with excitement. this was going to be a payday worth remembering.

jake’s head felt like it had been split in two.

groaning, he slowly blinked his eyes open, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his skull. everything hurt—his temples throbbed, his mouth was dry, and his stomach churned in protest against the excess of wine from the night before. it took a moment for his vision to clear, the blurred shapes around him slowly coming into focus.

he was lying on a rough, uncomfortable mattress, a thin, scratchy blanket draped over him. the room was dim, lit only by a thin sliver of sunlight seeping through a small, grimy window high up on the wall. wooden beams crisscrossed above him, the ceiling low and oppressive. the walls were bare, made of dark, weathered wood that creaked softly as the entire room seemed to sway and shift.

jake sat up with a start, his head spinning from the sudden movement. he clutched his forehead, trying to piece together the fragments of last night’s memories. the port, the wine, his father’s angry voice ringing in his ears—those memories were clear enough. but everything after that was a blur.

he tried to stand, but his legs felt unsteady, his balance thrown off by the gentle rocking beneath his feet. the floor tilted, and jake stumbled, grabbing at the wall for support.

“where the hell…?” his voice came out hoarse, and he swallowed painfully, his throat raw. the last thing he remembered was being at the docks, stumbling around like an idiot. and then… he closed his eyes, trying to recall. there had been a voice—a mocking, lilting voice. he’d seen a shadowed figure, someone who’d grabbed him…

his eyes flew open as realisation dawned.

“pirates,” he whispered, the word sending a chill down his spine.

he looked around frantically, trying to get his bearings. the room was small, the only furnishings a rickety wooden chair and a small table bolted to the floor. there were no decorations, no signs of luxury or comfort. this wasn’t some noble’s estate or a secluded inn—this was a ship. he was on a ship.

panic flared in his chest. he had to get out, had to—

the door creaked open, interrupting his frantic thoughts. jake whirled around, his heart pounding as a figure stepped into the room.

when jake laid his eyes on you, standing in the dimly lit cabin, he couldn't help but stare. despite the circumstances, there was an undeniable air of confidence and danger that drew him in, like a storm you couldn't look away from. your sharp eyes, steady and calculating, seemed to glimmer with mischief beneath the low light, framed by wild strands of hair that escaped the loose tie holding it back. the leather jacket you wore clung to your form, tough yet graceful, and with each step you took toward him, he felt a mixture of intimidation and awe. you were no princess from some royal court. you were real—strong, commanding, and utterly breathtaking in a way that made his heart race for reasons he couldn't quite name.

you leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smile playing on your lips. “good morning, your highness. sleep well?”

jake stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. it was you—the pirate from last night. the one who had taken him. the one responsible for this entire nightmare.

“wha—where am i?” he demanded, his voice shaky but edged with anger. “what the hell is going on?”

you raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his confusion. “you’re on my ship, prince. welcome aboard.”

“your ship?” he took a step back, his eyes darting around as if expecting to find some hidden exit. “you—why did you—”

“kidnap you?” you supplied helpfully, your grin widening. “i thought that much was obvious.”

he glared at you, the fear and anger in his eyes warring for dominance. “you can’t do this. do you have any idea who i am?”

you chuckled softly. “of course i do. you’re prince jake, heir to the throne, soon-to-be husband to some poor girl you’ve never met. or were supposed to be, anyway.”

jake bristled at your words, the reminder of his unwanted engagement fueling his anger. “then you know my father will have your head for this. you’re making a huge mistake.”

you shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “maybe. but it’s a very profitable mistake. you see, your highness, you’re worth quite a lot of money. i’m sure your father will be more than happy to pay a hefty sum to get you back.”

jake’s jaw clenched. he could feel his heart racing, the situation spiralling further out of his control with every word you spoke. “you’re a fool if you think he’ll give in to your demands. he doesn’t negotiate with—”

“pirates?” you interrupted, your voice mocking. “no, i suppose he wouldn’t. but we’re not just any pirates, prince. we’re very persuasive.”

jake’s eyes narrowed. “what do you want?”

you tilted your head, considering him for a moment. then you pushed yourself off the doorframe, taking a few slow steps toward him. “like i said, a ransom. nothing too extravagant—just enough gold and jewels to make this little detour worth our while.”

he straightened, drawing himself up to his full height, his chin lifting defiantly. “and if i refuse?”

you laughed then, a light, almost playful sound that made his blood boil. “oh, your highness, you really don’t have much of a choice in the matter. we’re going to contact your father, and he’s going to pay us. if he doesn’t…” you shrugged again, the gesture casual, almost careless. “well, let’s just say there are plenty of other kingdoms that might be interested in buying a prince.”

jake’s blood ran cold at the implication. he had no doubt you were serious, the casualness of your threat only making it more chilling. he clenched his fists, feeling a surge of helpless rage. he hated this—hated feeling so powerless, so trapped.

“why me?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “why did you choose to kidnap me?”

you smirked, leaning back against the table, crossing your arms again. “why not? you were practically begging for it last night. drunk and stumbling around the docks, without a guard in sight. you made it too easy.”

jake glared at you, his face flushed with anger and shame. he had been stupid, reckless. he knew that. but to hear you say it, to see the amusement in your eyes—it made his humiliation burn even hotter.

“and besides,” you continued, your tone more thoughtful now. “there’s something… interesting about you, prince. most royal brats would be crying by now, begging for mercy or trying to bribe their way out of this. but you—” you looked him over, your gaze sharp and assessing. “you’ve got a bit of fight in you. i like that.”

he swallowed, his throat dry. “if you think i’m going to just sit here and let you ransom me off, you’re mistaken.”

“oh, i don’t expect you to sit quietly, jake,” you said, his name rolling off your tongue with a teasing lilt. “but you will stay here. and you will do exactly as i say. because if you don’t…” you leaned in close, your voice dropping to a whisper. “things could get very unpleasant for you.”

jake’s heart hammered in his chest, the threat hanging heavy in the air between you. but he refused to back down, refused to let you see just how scared he was. “you’re a coward,” he spat, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. “hiding behind threats and chains.”

you straightened, your smile fading slightly, replaced by a cool, calculating look. “maybe. but i’m the coward who’s holding you prisoner, and you’re the one locked in this room. so who really has the power here, prince?”

jake didn’t have an answer to that, the reality of his situation crashing down around him. he was trapped, alone, at the mercy of a pirate who seemed to find his struggles more amusing than anything else.

you watched him for a moment longer, then turned, heading for the door. “i’d get comfortable if i were you. we’ll be sending your father a little message soon. until then, try not to get into too much trouble.”

with that, you slipped out of the room, the door closing behind you with a decisive click. jake was left standing there, his heart racing, his mind whirling with a thousand unanswered questions.

he took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the small, cramped space. there had to be a way out of this. he wasn’t going to let you—let anyone—control his fate. he was a prince, damn it. and he would find a way to take back control, no matter what it took.

jake spent the next few hours pacing the confines of his makeshift cell, frustration bubbling in his chest like a pot set to boil. every creak and sway of the ship was a reminder of where he was—trapped on a pirate vessel, of all places. he had never felt more out of his depth, more powerless, and it infuriated him.

the room was small and sparsely furnished, nothing like the opulence he was used to in the palace. he had grown up surrounded by luxury—plush carpets, gilded furniture, and servants who attended to his every whim. here, there was only the harsh creak of the wooden floorboards and the faint smell of saltwater seeping through the cracks in the planks. it was a stark, unpleasant contrast, and jake’s sense of indignation grew with every second.

he tugged at the bindings around his wrists for what felt like the hundredth time, hissing in irritation as the ropes bit into his skin. “unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with disdain. “kidnapped by a bunch of filthy pirates. my father will have their heads for this.”

his thoughts whirled, oscillating between anger and disbelief. did you really think you could get away with this? he was a prince—he wasn’t supposed to be treated like some common prisoner. yet, here he was, bound and helpless, his only company the relentless thrum of the ship’s hull cutting through the waves.

the door swung open suddenly, and you sauntered in, a smug grin on your face. “good to see you’re making yourself at home, prince.”

jake glared at you, his eyes blazing. “you think this is funny?”

you raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in your gaze. “i think it’s hilarious, actually. you should’ve seen yourself last night, stumbling around like a newborn foal. if it weren’t so pathetic, i might’ve felt sorry for you.”

jake bristled at your words. “my father will crush you for this,” he spat, his voice tinged with the haughty arrogance of a nobleman used to getting his way. “do you know what happens to people who cross the crown?”

you chuckled, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. “i’ve got a pretty good idea, but thanks for the warning.” you glanced at the bindings around his wrists, then back at his face. “now, are you going to behave, or do i need to tie you up even tighter?”

he scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “you really think you can intimidate me with your crude threats? i’ve dealt with far scarier people than you.”

“oh, really?” you said, your voice dripping with mock interest. “and who might that be? your etiquette tutor?”

jake’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. “this isn’t a joke! i’m not some commoner you can push around. i have rights, and you—”

“—have no leverage here,” you finished, your voice firm and steady. you stepped closer, your gaze locking onto his. “you’re on my ship, prince. your rights are whatever i decide they are. and if you keep up this bratty behaviour, you’ll find out just how limited those rights can be.”

jake stared at you, his pulse pounding in his ears. he was used to people deferring to him, used to his word being law. this was… humiliating. he opened his mouth to retort, but the words stuck in his throat, his outrage tangling with something else—fear, maybe, or the uncomfortable realisation that, for now, you were right.

he turned away, biting down hard on his lower lip. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

you watched him for a moment, your expression softening slightly. “you might as well get used to it, your highness,” you said, your tone less mocking, more pragmatic. “we’re going to be at sea for a while. unless you’d rather spend your days tied up in this cabin, i’d suggest you start cooperating.”

“cooperating?” he whipped around, his eyes flashing. “with you? never.”

you shrugged, seemingly unfazed by his defiance. “suit yourself. but just so you know, it’s not going to be as bad as you think. you might even enjoy it, if you’d pull that stick out of your royal ass.”

he made a noise of disbelief, shaking his head. “enjoy being a prisoner on a pirate ship? are you mad?”

“not mad, just realistic,” you replied, your smile returning. “you could sit here sulking, or you could make the best of it. who knows? maybe you’ll learn something.”

jake let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “learn something? from a bunch of lawless thugs?”

“you’d be surprised,” you said lightly. “you might find there’s more to life than being a spoiled prince.”

the words struck a nerve, and jake bristled, his shoulders tense. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“i know enough,” you said, your tone thoughtful now. “i know you’ve spent your whole life being told what to do, where to go, who to marry. must get tiring after a while, huh?”

jake’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. because you were right. the constant expectations, the endless duties—it was exhausting. but he’d never admit that to you.

you watched him, your gaze assessing, then straightened, pushing off the wall. “well, when you’re ready to stop being a brat and start acting like a human being, let me know. maybe we can talk like adults.”

he glared at you, his pride refusing to let him back down. “i don’t need your pity, pirate.”

“it’s not pity,” you said calmly. “it’s a chance. take it or leave it.”

with that, you turned and left the room, the door closing behind you with a soft thud. jake stood there, staring at the closed door, his mind racing.

he hated you. hated the way you talked to him, the way you looked at him, like he was some petulant child who didn’t know any better. but more than that, he hated the way your words made something inside him twist uncomfortably, the way they hit just a little too close to the truth.

because the truth was, he was tired. tired of being the perfect prince, the obedient son, the pawn in his father’s endless political games. and in a strange, twisted way, there was a part of him that almost—almost—wanted to see what you meant. to understand what life was like outside the confines of the palace walls.

but he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of knowing that.

not yet, anyway.

jake spent the next day doing his best to test your patience. he may have been stuck in this small, grimy room, but he wasn’t about to let you think he was going to cooperate. no, he was a prince, and he would find a way to make you regret kidnapping him.

the first signs of trouble came early. he knocked over the water pitcher, letting the liquid spill across the floor, then stood back, crossing his arms as if daring someone to come clean it up. a little while later, he took the plate of bread and fruit jungwon had brought him and tossed it out the small window, watching as it splashed into the sea below.

when you walked in, you found him lounging on the chair, arms behind his head, a smug smile on his face.

“comfortable, your highness?” you asked, your tone dry.

“quite,” jake replied, his smile widening. “just thought i’d redecorate. this place is rather… drab.”

you glanced at the puddle of water spreading across the floor, the broken plate shards glittering near the window, and shook your head. “right. very tasteful. i see why you were forced into diplomacy and not design.”

jake's expression hardened. “i was trying to make a point.”

“and what point is that?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, amusement dancing in your eyes. “that you have the maturity of a toddler?”

before jake could respond, jungwon entered the room, a look of mild exasperation on his face. he glanced around, taking in the mess, then turned to you.

“captain, you need me to deal with this?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward jake. “or should we just toss him overboard and be done with it?”

jake’s eyes widened slightly at the suggestion, but he quickly schooled his expression back into one of defiance. “i’d like to see you try.”

jungwon smirked, folding his arms. “you wouldn’t last a minute, prince. trust me.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “no one’s getting tossed overboard. but it seems our guest needs a lesson in respecting his hosts.”

jungwon raised an eyebrow. “you want me to teach him some manners?”

jake bristled. “i don’t need to be taught anything by you.”

“oh, this is going to be fun,” jungwon said, his grin widening. he stepped closer to jake, who leaned back slightly, clearly trying not to look intimidated.

“what are you going to do?” jake asked, his voice trying to sound brave but betraying a hint of nervousness.

jungwon looked at him thoughtfully. “well, i could make you swab the deck, or clean the bilge. but honestly, you look like you’ve never worked a day in your life. so maybe i’ll just take you to the galley and see if you can peel potatoes without whining.”

jake blinked, caught off guard. “peel potatoes?”

“yep.” jungwon clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “you’ll be the galley’s new assistant. keeps you busy and out of trouble.”

jake glanced at you, then back at jungwon. “you can’t be serious.”

“oh, i’m very serious,” jungwon said, his smile turning almost wicked. “we’ll see if you can hold a knife without crying about your precious hands getting dirty.”

jake opened his mouth to argue but seemed to think better of it. instead, he turned back to you, his expression defiant but wavering. “you’re really going to make me do this?”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “well, you did say you were bored. and i think it’s about time you earned your keep, don’t you?”

before jake could respond, jungwon grabbed his arm and started hauling him out of the cabin. “come on, your highness. let’s see what you’re made of.”

“hey—wait!” jake protested, stumbling slightly as jungwon pulled him along. “i’m not going to—”

“oh, but you are,” jungwon said cheerfully. “and if you’re lucky, i might even let you eat some of what you cook. assuming it’s not completely inedible.”

as the two of them disappeared down the corridor, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. jungwon was good at handling difficult captives, and jake was certainly proving to be a challenge.

the galley was a bustling, cramped space filled with the clatter of pots and the smell of cooking food. jake stood in the middle of it all, looking utterly out of place and thoroughly miserable.

“this is ridiculous,” he muttered as jungwon handed him a bucket of potatoes and a small, worn knife.

“maybe,” jungwon agreed, a teasing smile on his lips, “but it’s also your job now. so get peeling, prince.”

jake scowled, holding the knife awkwardly as he fumbled with the first potato. “i don’t know how to do this.”

jungwon rolled his eyes. “of course you don’t. here, let me show you.” he took the knife and a potato, demonstrating the quick, efficient motion of peeling it. “see? easy.”

jake watched, his pride clearly stinging, but he took the knife back and attempted to mimic jungwon’s actions. he managed to slice off a decent chunk of the potato along with the peel, grimacing as he looked at the uneven result.

jungwon snickered. “not bad for a first try. now you only have, oh, about a hundred more to go.”

jake glared at him. “i don’t see why i should be doing this. i’m not some servant.”

“no, you’re a captive,” jungwon reminded him, his tone light but firm. “and captives who don’t cause trouble get treated well. those who do…” he let the sentence hang, his grin turning sharp.

jake huffed but turned his attention back to the potato, muttering under his breath about the indignity of it all. jungwon watched him struggle for a moment, then, with a sigh, grabbed a knife and started peeling alongside him.

“just try to keep up,” jungwon teased, effortlessly skinning a potato in record time.

jake’s face burned with frustration, but he forced himself to focus, determined not to let the pirate best him. it was a small, ridiculous battle of wills, but for some reason, it mattered.

despite himself, jake found the rhythm of the work strangely calming. it was mindless, but in a way, it gave him something to focus on other than the fact that he was a prisoner on a pirate ship. and, to his annoyance, jungwon’s casual, bantering presence made it a little less unbearable.

by the time they finished, jake’s hands were cramping, and there was a pile of poorly peeled potatoes at his feet. he looked at them with a mix of pride and disgust.

“not bad,” jungwon said, his tone surprisingly genuine. “for a beginner.”

jake looked at him, surprised. “you’re not going to mock me?”

jungwon shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “i’ll save it for when you actually deserve it.”

jake snorted, shaking his head. “i still don’t see why i have to do this.”

“think of it as character building,” jungwon suggested with a grin. “besides, it’s better than sitting in that room, sulking.”

jake glanced at the pile of potatoes, then back at jungwon, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “i suppose there are worse things.”

“there definitely are,” jungwon said with a laugh. “now, let’s get these to the cook before he decides to use us for stew.”

as they headed toward the galley, jake couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie with the pirate beside him. it was confusing, unsettling even, but for the first time since he’d been taken, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

and, who knows? he might even learn a thing or two along the way.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the ship, the crew gathered on the main deck for dinner. the air was filled with the scent of grilled fish and freshly baked bread, the sound of laughter and conversation creating a lively atmosphere that was a stark contrast to the tension of earlier in the day.

jake, still somewhat dazed from his unexpected kitchen duties, found himself standing awkwardly on the edge of the group. he glanced around, taking in the relaxed, almost familial vibe of the crew as they ate and joked with each other. it was strange, seeing these hardened pirates—people he’d been raised to think of as ruthless and bloodthirsty—sharing food and stories like any other group of sailors.

he felt completely out of place.

“you gonna stand there all night, or are you actually going to eat something?” jungwon’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. the first mate appeared beside him, holding a plate piled high with food.

jake hesitated, glancing at the plate and then back at jungwon. “is this… for me?”

jungwon rolled his eyes. “no, it’s for the seagulls. yes, it’s for you. now, sit.”

jake took the plate gingerly, his stomach growling in response to the smell. he hadn’t realised how hungry he was until now. he followed jungwon to a spot near the railing, where they both sat down on the wooden deck.

the food was simple but delicious: grilled fish, a slice of bread, and a generous portion of roasted vegetables. jake ate slowly, savouring each bite, his earlier defiance momentarily forgotten in the face of genuine hunger.

“you know, i’m surprised you didn’t just throw this overboard too,” jungwon remarked, his tone teasing but not unkind.

jake shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “i might be a little spoiled, but i’m not stupid. i know when to appreciate a good meal.”

“glad to hear it,” jungwon said with a grin. “our cook might have thrown you overboard if you wasted his food.”

jake raised an eyebrow. “is that a joke?”

“maybe,” jungwon replied, winking. “but you don’t want to test him. trust me.”

despite himself, jake chuckled, shaking his head. “you’re all crazy.”

“welcome aboard, then,” jungwon quipped, earning another small laugh from jake. it was strange, this easy camaraderie they were developing, but in a way, it was a relief. better this than more conflict.

as they ate, the conversation flowed easily between them. jungwon told a few stories about the crew, pointing out various members and sharing their quirks and histories. he spoke of the time he’d joined the crew himself, how he’d been just a reckless kid looking for adventure, not unlike jake in some ways.

“and then there’s the captain,” jungwon said, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “she’s the reason most of us are here. tough as nails, but fair. she sees things in people, you know? things they don’t see in themselves.”

jake glanced over at you, where you were standing near the helm, talking quietly with another crew member. he thought about how you’d handled him earlier, firm but not cruel, refusing to rise to his provocations. there was something about you—something he couldn’t quite figure out, but it intrigued him.

“she certainly has a unique recruitment strategy,” he said dryly, taking another bite of fish.

jungwon snorted. “yeah, kidnapping royalty isn’t exactly standard procedure. but you’re a special case.”

jake frowned. “special how?”

“you really don’t know, do you?” jungwon asked, tilting his head. “i mean, i’m sure you’ve heard the rumours about your own kingdom. the unrest, the protests. people aren’t happy, and your father’s trying to patch things up with that marriage alliance. he’s desperate to secure his rule.”

jake’s expression tightened. he knew all of this, of course. it was why he’d been so frustrated, so angry. he didn’t want to be a pawn in his father’s political games, married off to some princess he didn’t even know just to keep the peace. but hearing it laid out like this, from a pirate of all people, made it feel more real, more urgent.

“and what does that have to do with me?” he asked, his voice tense.

jungwon shrugged. “it means you’re valuable. not just as a prince, but as a symbol. people see you as the future of the kingdom, for better or worse. and if you’re here, with us… well, it changes things.”

jake stared at him, his mind racing. he hadn’t thought about it like that. he’d been so focused on his own feelings, his own desires, that he hadn’t considered how his actions might affect others.

before he could respond, you approached, a wry smile on your lips. “are you boring him with pirate politics, jungwon?”

jungwon grinned up at you. “just making sure he knows what he’s gotten himself into.”

you looked down at jake, your gaze sharp but not unkind. “and do you?”

jake met your eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions—defiance, curiosity, even a hint of respect. “i’m starting to.”

“good,” you said, nodding approvingly. “because you’re not going to get any special treatment here. if you want to survive, you’ll have to work like everyone else.”

jake bristled slightly, but there was no real anger in his voice as he replied, “i’m not afraid of hard work.”

“glad to hear it,” you said, your smile turning almost mischievous. “because tomorrow, you’re on cleaning duty. i expect the deck to be spotless.”

jake groaned, and jungwon burst out laughing. “welcome to pirate life, your highness.”

despite his grumbling, jake found himself smiling, a strange sense of relief washing over him. for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was in control of something, even if it was just his own response to this bizarre situation.

maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make this work. and if he was going to be stuck here, he might as well make the most of it.

“fine,” he said, lifting his chin slightly. “but don’t think i’m doing it for free.”

you laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “oh? and what do you want in return, prince?”

jake thought for a moment, then smiled. “a chance to prove you wrong.”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “about what?”

“that i can handle whatever you throw at me,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “i’m not just some spoiled royal. i can be more than that.”

you considered him for a moment, then nodded, a hint of respect in your gaze. “we’ll see. but i’ll hold you to that.”

as the crew continued to eat and talk around them, jake felt a strange sense of anticipation building inside him. maybe this was his chance to figure out who he really was, beyond the title and the expectations.

the following days saw jake throwing himself into work with a single-minded determination, his initial resistance shifting into a genuine desire to prove himself. the crew, initially sceptical, began to warm up to his efforts. they watched as he took on every menial task without complaint, his posture growing less rigid with each passing day, his movements becoming more confident.

and then there was you—always watching, always testing.

one afternoon, after an exhausting morning of scrubbing the deck and assisting the crew with their duties, jake approached jungwon, who was busy adjusting the sails.

“i want to learn,” jake said, his voice steady despite the sweat beading on his forehead.

jungwon glanced at him, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes. “learn what, your highness?”

“everything,” jake replied, determination evident in his tone. “navigation, sailing, sword fighting—whatever it takes.”

jungwon raised an eyebrow, then nodded slowly. “alright. but don’t expect us to go easy on you. if you want to learn, you’ll have to earn it.”

jake’s gaze shifted to you, where you stood near the helm, a confident presence that seemed to command the very winds. “i’m ready.”

jungwon smirked, but there was a hint of approval in his expression. “we’ll see.”

jake’s training began with the basics: tying knots, handling the rigging, learning the different parts of the ship. he was clumsy at first, his hands unused to the rough work, but he was quick to learn, his determination driving him forward. you watched from a distance, your eyes sharp, taking in every stumble, every success.

as the days passed, jake’s confidence grew. he started to understand the rhythms of the sea, the subtle shifts in the wind, the way the crew worked together like the well-oiled parts of a single, living entity. and he found himself drawn to you, despite his best efforts to keep his distance.

there was something about the way you moved, the way you spoke to the crew with a mix of authority and respect, that both fascinated and frustrated him. you were nothing like the people he’d known at court—no politeness masking cruelty, no false smiles. just raw, unflinching honesty.

one evening, after a long day of work, jake found you alone on the quarterdeck, studying a weathered map spread out on a small table. the sky was awash in shades of pink and gold, the sun sinking slowly into the horizon.

“captain,” he called out, his voice tentative.

you glanced up, your expression unreadable. “yes, prince?”

he hesitated, then gestured to the map. “i was hoping you could teach me navigation. i know the basics, but… i want to know more.”

you studied him for a long moment, your gaze searching his face as if weighing his sincerity. finally, you nodded. “show me what you know.”

he stepped forward, standing close enough to feel the warmth of your body, the subtle scent of salt and sea air that clung to your clothes. you handed him a sextant, and he took it, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest second—a touch so fleeting it could have been an accident, yet it sent a strange jolt through him.

“use this to measure the angle of the sun,” you instructed, your voice low and calm. “compare that to the time of day, and you can find our latitude.”

he did as you said, holding the instrument up and adjusting it carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration. you watched him closely, stepping closer to adjust his grip. your fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, the contact sending a shiver down his spine.

“like this,” you murmured, your breath warm against his cheek.

jake swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. he nodded, his voice coming out a little too rough. “got it.”

you stepped back, watching as he took the reading and compared it to the chart. when he got it right, he felt a surge of pride. he glanced at you, half-expecting to see you dismissive or indifferent, but there was a hint of a smile on your lips, a glint of approval in your eyes.

“not bad,” you said, nodding. “keep practising.”

“thanks,” he said, his voice softer now. he hesitated, then added, “i appreciate you giving me a chance.”

you shrugged, turning back to the map. “just don’t make me regret it.”

that night, he lay in his hammock, staring up at the ceiling of the small cabin. he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d looked at him, the way your touch had felt against his skin. it was maddening, this pull he felt toward you, this mix of admiration and frustration, desire and defiance.

the next day, jake’s restlessness found an outlet in a sparring session with the crew. he watched as you and jungwon faced off on the deck, your swords clashing in a blur of silver and steel. the crew gathered around, cheering and laughing, but all jake could focus on was you—the fierce, almost predatory grace of your movements, the way you seemed to anticipate jungwon’s every move.

in the end, you disarmed him easily, your blade pressing lightly against his chest.

“yield?” you asked, a playful glint in your eye.

jungwon grinned, stepping back with a mock bow. “yield, captain. for now.”

you lowered your sword, turning to jake. “what about you, prince? care to try your luck?”

jake felt his heart skip a beat. he’d been wanting this—craving a chance to prove himself, to push back against the tension simmering between you. he picked up a practice sword, testing its weight.

“i’m ready,” he said, meeting your gaze head-on.

the crew fell silent as you took your positions. you watched him, your expression unreadable, and then you moved. jake barely had time to react, his blade clashing against yours with a jarring force that sent vibrations up his arm.

“too slow,” you said, your voice almost a purr.

he gritted his teeth, pushing back. “i’m just getting started.”

you smiled—a real, genuine smile that was somehow more dangerous than any glare. you stepped back, feinting to the left before striking right. he blocked, his movements instinctive, adrenaline singing in his veins.

“good,” you murmured. “but not good enough.”

you moved like water, slipping past his defences, your blade coming to rest against his throat. he froze, his breath catching. you were so close now, your eyes locked on his, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you.

“yield?” you asked, your voice soft, almost teasing.

jake swallowed, his pulse pounding in his ears. he wanted to say something clever, something to break the tension, but his mouth felt dry. “never.”

you held his gaze for a long, intense moment, then lowered your sword, stepping back. “we’ll see.”

as the crew began to disperse, jake remained where he was, his heart still racing. he watched as you turned away, your expression unreadable, and felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

later, as the evening settled in and the crew gathered for dinner, jake found himself once again at the edge of the group. jungwon, catching sight of him, waved him over.

“hey, prince. you did good today,” he said, offering jake a plate of food.

jake took it, still slightly dazed. “thanks. i just—” he glanced over at you, where you were talking quietly with one of the crew. “i can’t figure her out.”

jungwon followed his gaze, then shrugged. “she’s the captain. she’s not supposed to be easy to figure out.”

jake frowned. “but there’s something else, isn’t there? it’s like… she’s testing me. but for what?”

jungwon chuckled. “maybe she’s trying to see if you’re worth all the trouble you’ve caused.”

jake considered that, then shook his head. “no, it’s more than that. i just… i want to prove myself.”

“to her?” jungwon asked, raising an eyebrow.

jake hesitated, then nodded slowly. “yeah. i guess i do.”

jungwon grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “good luck with that. she’s a tough one to impress.”

jake glanced over at you again, feeling that familiar pull, that mix of challenge and fascination. he didn’t know what he was trying to prove, or even why it mattered so much, but he knew one thing for certain:

he wasn’t going to give up.

the next day, jake found himself at the helm with you again, the map spread out between you. you were showing him how to chart a course, your voice calm and patient as you explained the intricacies of navigation.

he watched you, your profile sharp and focused, the way your fingers traced the lines on the map with practised ease. he wondered what it would be like to know you—not just as the captain, but as the person behind the title.

“do you ever get tired of it?” he asked suddenly, the question slipping out before he could stop himself.

you glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “tired of what?”

“this,” he gestured around, at the ship, the sea. “the constant moving, the danger. don’t you ever want something… more stable?”

your eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, he thought he’d overstepped. but then you shrugged, your gaze turning distant.

“stability’s a cage, prince. i’ve been there, and i’m not going back.”

jake felt a pang of something—sympathy, understanding. he nodded slowly. “yeah. i guess i know what you mean.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a heartbeat, he thought he saw something soften in your eyes. but it was gone in an instant, replaced by your usual guardedness.

“focus on the map, prince,” you said, your tone brisk. “you still have a lot to learn.”

jake smiled, despite himself. “yes, captain.”

and as the sun set on another day, he felt that spark of determination flare brighter. he would learn. he would prove himself. not just to you, but to himself.

because, whether he liked it or not, he was starting to realise that out here, on this ship, with you and this crew, he was beginning to feel something he’d never felt before.

he was beginning to feel like he belonged.

the days passed in a blur of new experiences and hard work. jake found himself adapting to life on your ship quicker than he’d expected. there was something strangely liberating about the simplicity of it—no formalities, no expectations to be anything other than himself. but he couldn’t deny that his eyes sought you out constantly, intrigued by the way you commanded respect and moved with an easy confidence that spoke of years at sea.

he’d thrown himself into learning as much as he could, from tying complicated knots to reading the winds and stars. jungwon, patient but merciless in his training, guided him through the intricacies of navigation and combat. the crew had begun to warm to him, and he even caught you watching him with something that looked almost like approval.

one evening, after a long day of training and chores, jake wandered onto the deck, his muscles aching but his mind clear. the sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the sea, and a peaceful silence had settled over the ship. most of the crew were below deck, resting or eating, leaving the upper deck quiet and empty.

he found you at the helm, hands resting lightly on the wheel as you guided the ship through the gentle evening breeze. you glanced over as he approached, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“shouldn’t you be resting, prince? jungwon tells me he’s been working you pretty hard.”

jake shrugged, leaning against the railing beside you. “resting’s for people who know what they’re doing. i still have a lot to learn.”

you raised an eyebrow, your smile widening slightly. “i didn’t think you’d last this long.”

“neither did i,” he admitted, laughing softly. “but i’m starting to get the hang of it. you know, it’s not so different from court politics. a lot of manoeuvring, knowing who to trust and when to watch your back.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “except here, if you mess up, you end up overboard.”

he grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “sounds like dinner at the palace.”

you chuckled, the sound surprising him. it was rare to hear you laugh, and he found he liked it more than he expected. there was a softness to it that contrasted with your usual sharp edges, making him wonder what other sides of you lay hidden beneath your tough exterior.

“maybe you’re not so different from us after all,” you said, your tone thoughtful as you looked out at the horizon. “you’ve held your own better than i expected.”

jake’s smile faded slightly, a serious look crossing his face. “i want to be more than just a prince who got kidnapped. i want to prove that i can do this, that i belong here.”

you turned to look at him, something unreadable in your eyes. “why? you have a whole kingdom waiting for you. what’s the point of trying so hard to fit in here?”

he hesitated, then sighed, his gaze dropping to the deck. “because i don’t know if i belong there anymore. i spent my whole life being told what to do, what to be. i thought i knew what i wanted, but now… now i’m not so sure.”

you were silent for a long moment, watching him carefully. “this isn’t an easy life, jake. it’s not just about adventure and freedom. there’s danger, uncertainty. every day is a fight to survive.”

“i know,” he said quietly, meeting your gaze. “but at least here, i get to decide who i am. even if it’s hard.”

you studied him, your expression softening slightly. “and who do you want to be?”

he swallowed, his heart pounding. “i don’t know yet. but i think i want to find out.”

you nodded slowly, something like understanding flickering in your eyes. “well, as long as you’re on my ship, you’re one of us. and that means you pull your weight, no special treatment.”

he smiled, relief and gratitude flooding him. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

the two of you stood there for a while, the silence between you comfortable, almost companionable. the sea stretched out before you, dark and endless, the stars beginning to peek through the twilight sky. for the first time in a long while, jake felt a sense of peace, of purpose. he wasn’t sure where this journey would lead, but for now, he was content to take it one step at a time.

“hey, captain,” he said after a while, his voice soft. “thank you.”

you glanced at him, your expression guarded. “for what?”

“for giving me a chance,” he said simply.

you looked away, your fingers tightening slightly on the wheel. “just don’t make me regret it, prince.”

jake smiled, a small, genuine smile that made something inside you twist uncomfortably. “i’ll do my best.”

and for the first time, you found yourself hoping that he would.

after that conversation, jake threw himself even more fervently into life on the ship. he wasn’t just trying to prove himself to you anymore; he was trying to prove it to himself. he took on every challenge with a stubborn determination, even managing to outlast jungwon in a sword-fighting session one afternoon, much to the crew’s amusement.

the more he learned, the more he began to understand the unspoken bonds between the crew members, the camaraderie and trust that held them together even in the face of danger. he found himself laughing more, his shoulders relaxing, the constant tension that had defined his life at court slowly melting away.

one evening, as the crew gathered around for dinner, he found himself seated between you and jungwon, the three of you sharing a rare moment of peace. the crew’s laughter echoed around the deck as they traded stories and jests, the firelight casting warm, flickering shadows across their faces.

jake glanced at you, noting the way your shoulders had relaxed, your usual sharp gaze softened. he felt a strange, almost uncomfortable warmth in his chest at the sight of you like this, at ease and unguarded, if only for a moment.

“you know,” he said quietly, leaning closer so only you could hear, “i think i’m starting to get the hang of this whole pirate thing.”

you raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at your lips. “don’t get too cocky, prince. you’ve still got a long way to go.”

he laughed softly, the sound genuine. “i guess i just have a good teacher.”

your gaze flicked to his, and for a moment, something passed between you—an unspoken understanding, a connection that neither of you could quite put into words. it was there in the way your eyes held his, in the faint curve of your lips, in the way his heart seemed to skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat.

before he could say anything more, jungwon, who had been listening in with a grin, leaned over, nudging jake with his elbow.

“careful, prince,” he said with a wink. “the captain’s not someone you want to cross.”

jake grinned, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. “oh, i think i’ve learned that lesson already.”

you rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat in it, your expression softening as you looked between them. “just don’t expect any special treatment. you’re still part of this crew, and that means pulling your weight.”

jake nodded, his smile fading into something more serious. “i will. i promise.”

and as the night wore on, the three of you talking and laughing beneath the stars, he realised that, for the first time, he wasn’t thinking about what he’d left behind or what waited for him back at the kingdom. for the first time, he was simply here, in this moment, and it was enough.

the night was calm, the ship gently rocking as it sailed through the endless stretch of sea. above, the sky was a canvas of shimmering stars, scattered like diamonds against the black expanse. you leaned against the railing of the ship, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, a welcome contrast to the warmth radiating from the day’s work. the crew had long settled down, their laughter and banter from earlier now replaced by the quiet hum of the ocean. it was peaceful—almost too peaceful for someone like you, used to the chaos and unpredictability of life at sea.

you glanced over your shoulder, seeing jake making his way toward you. he had fit in surprisingly well with the crew, his bratty resistance from the early days replaced by curiosity and, dare you admit it, excitement. his princely demeanour had given way to something more natural, more at ease, as he took to the tasks with a sense of wonder. there was a certain boyish charm in the way he admired everything around him, whether it was the workings of the ship or the loyalty of your crew. and yet, beneath that, something more dangerous was brewing—something between the two of you.

“couldn’t sleep?” you asked as he reached your side.

he shrugged, leaning against the railing next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “not with a view like this,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he gazed up at the stars. “i’ve never seen anything like it. the stars… they feel so close out here.”

you nodded, glancing up as well. “out here, you realise how small you are. it’s humbling.”

jake didn’t respond right away, and the comfortable silence between you stretched. you were both just standing there, side by side, watching the stars and listening to the waves. the night air was cool, and the proximity between you sent a spark through your skin. there had always been something electric about jake—something about the way he looked at you, with that mixture of defiance and admiration, that made you uneasy. and tonight, it felt stronger, like the space between you was filled with unspoken words and a tension you could no longer ignore.

finally, he spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “i don’t get it,” he began. “why… why choose this life? you could be anywhere, doing anything, and yet, you’re out here in the middle of nowhere, living on the edge. why?”

you let out a breath, your hand gripping the railing a little tighter. you’d always avoided these kinds of conversations, especially with people who didn’t understand the choices you’d made. but there was something about the way jake asked—like he wasn’t judging, just genuinely curious.

“i didn’t choose it,” you admitted quietly, your gaze fixed on the horizon. “not at first, anyway.”

jake turned to face you, waiting for you to continue.

“i grew up in a port town, one that was constantly ravaged by raids. pirates came, took what they wanted, and left nothing but ruin behind. my parents... they were honest traders, working to build something. but when the raids became too frequent, we lost everything. one day, they came back, and this time, they didn’t leave anyone alive.” you swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down. “i survived. i hid while my world burned. after that, i realized that the only way to survive was to become stronger. to become one of them.”

jake’s expression softened, but he said nothing, letting you continue.

“i joined a crew, learned the ropes, and eventually made my own way. it wasn’t about money or fame—not at first. it was survival, pure and simple. but after a while, it became about more than that. it was about freedom. about having control over my own life.” you glanced at him, your voice wavering slightly. “out here, no one can tell me who to be. i make the rules.”

the silence that followed felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. jake absorbed your words, his eyes searching your face, as if seeing you in a different light. he opened his mouth to say something but then hesitated, his gaze dropping to the railing. when he finally spoke, his voice was laced with a vulnerability you hadn’t heard from him before.

“i never had that,” he said softly. “control, i mean. every part of my life was mapped out before i even had a chance to think for myself. it’s always been about duty. about what’s best for the kingdom.” he let out a short, humourless laugh. “and here i am, kidnapped by a pirate, and it’s the first time i’ve felt free.”

you turned to him, studying his face as he stared out at the sea. there was something raw in his words, something that resonated with you in a way you hadn’t expected. he wasn’t just the spoiled prince you’d thought he was. there was a depth to him, a quiet yearning that mirrored your own.

for a moment, you both stood in silence, the tension between you building with every passing second. the gentle sway of the ship seemed to bring you closer, and when jake finally turned to look at you, the intensity in his gaze made your heart race. his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt something shift—a magnetic pull drawing you closer, making it hard to breathe.

“y/n,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the proximity of his body sending a shiver down your spine. his gaze flickered to your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you stepped closer, your body betraying the caution that usually ruled you.

he reached out, hesitating for a moment before his hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. the touch was light, almost hesitant, but it set every nerve in your body alight. you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the space between you evaporate.

“jake…” you whispered, unsure of what you were about to say, but it didn’t matter. he was already closing the distance, his lips hovering inches from yours. and then, in one slow, inevitable moment, he kissed you.

it was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters, but then it deepened, the intensity of everything you’d both been holding back pouring into the kiss. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

when you finally pulled back, breathless and dazed, you stared at each other, the weight of what had just happened hanging between you.

“jake… i-”

“shh,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “we don’t have to say anything. not right now.”

for the first time in a long time, you felt exposed—your walls crumbling in front of him. and yet, instead of fear, all you felt was relief. maybe, just maybe, there was room for something more in this chaotic, dangerous life. something real.

as the night stretched on and the stars twinkled above, you knew that whatever happened next, this moment had changed everything.

the days following that night under the stars felt different—charged with an energy neither of you could ignore. it wasn’t just the kiss, though that memory lingered like a spark waiting to ignite at the slightest touch. it was the way jake looked at you now, with a quiet intensity, a hunger in his eyes that made your heart race every time you caught him staring. and it was the way you felt drawn to him, despite the walls you’d built so carefully over the years.

every interaction felt loaded, every conversation laced with a tension that simmered just beneath the surface. yet neither of you spoke about it—not directly. instead, you let your actions speak for you. jake began spending more time by your side, asking questions about the ship, the crew, the sea. his bratty demeanour had all but vanished, replaced by a genuine curiosity, an eagerness to learn.

one afternoon, as you worked side by side on the deck, showing him how to properly tie a sailor’s knot, you felt his eyes on you again. the sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow across the ship, but it was the heat of jake’s gaze that made your skin tingle. he was close—closer than he needed to be—his arm brushing yours as he tried to mimic the knot you’d just demonstrated.

“you’re not paying attention,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips.

jake blinked, startled, his focus snapping back to the task at hand. “i am! just… distracted.”

“by what?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

jake gave you a sidelong glance, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “you.”

the simplicity of his answer caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. instead, you dropped your gaze back to the knot in your hands, suddenly aware of how close he was, of the warmth radiating from his body. you could feel your heart beating faster, the tension between you thick enough to cut.

“you’ll never get this right if you don’t focus,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though it betrayed you with a slight tremor.

he grinned, leaning in just a little closer. “maybe i like the distraction.”

you shot him a look, a warning in your eyes, but there was no denying the thrill that shot through you at his words. you couldn’t afford to let this get out of hand, not when your life was already so unpredictable, so full of danger. but with every passing day, it was getting harder to resist him.

later that evening, you found yourself on the ship’s bow, staring out at the horizon as the sun dipped below the water, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. it was a rare moment of peace, and you savoured it, breathing in the salty air, your mind wandering back to jake. you couldn’t help but think about how he’d changed, how he’d adapted to life at sea, how he no longer seemed like the pampered prince who’d stumbled onto your ship. he was different now—stronger, more capable. and more dangerous to your heart.

“can i join you?”

his voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced over to see jake standing there, his eyes soft but serious.

you gave a small nod, and he came to stand beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in that familiar way that made your pulse quicken. for a few moments, neither of you spoke, the quiet between you comfortable, yet charged with the unspoken feelings that lingered just beneath the surface.

“i’ve been thinking about what you said,” jake began, his voice low. “about why you chose this life.”

you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“i get it now,” he said, his gaze focused on the horizon. “why you need to be in control. why freedom means so much to you. i never understood it before, but now… after being here, after seeing what it’s like to live by your own rules, i do.”

you felt a flicker of something inside you—pride, maybe. or was it something more?

“i thought i had it all figured out,” he admitted, turning to look at you. “the throne, the kingdom, duty… it all seemed so clear. but being here with you, seeing this world, i don’t know if i can go back to that. not anymore.”

his words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. you met his gaze, searching his eyes for the truth. there was something raw there, something vulnerable that made your heart ache.

“jake…” you began, unsure of what to say, but he shook his head.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he said softly. “i just… i wanted you to know.”

for a moment, you let the silence wash over you, the sound of the waves filling the space between your words. you’d been so careful with him, so wary of letting your guard down, but every day, jake was breaking through the walls you’d built, piece by piece. and now, standing here with him under the setting sun, you weren’t sure you could hold those walls up any longer.

without thinking, you reached out, your hand brushing against his. it was a small gesture, but it felt monumental, like the beginning of something you couldn’t take back. he turned his hand over, his fingers lacing with yours, and the simple act made your chest tighten.

“i’ve never felt like this before,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “not with anyone.”

your heart skipped a beat, and before you could stop yourself, you looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable, and for the first time, you let yourself acknowledge what had been growing between you all along.

“i don’t know where this is going,” you admitted, your voice quiet but steady. “but… i don’t want to lose it.”

he smiled then, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart ache. “neither do i.”

the moment stretched between you, fragile but full of promise, and as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, you felt something shift. this wasn’t just an adventure anymore. this was something real, something that neither of you could walk away from easily.

the days that followed were filled with a growing sense of companionship—a rhythm that had started to form between you and jake. he worked alongside you, learning the ways of the ship with more ease than you’d ever expected. he was no longer the prince you’d kidnapped for ransom; he was becoming something more, something you couldn’t quite define.

and in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of you—whether it was a shared glance across the deck, a fleeting touch as you passed each other, or the way he’d sit beside you in the evening to watch the stars—you could feel the bond between you deepening, becoming something you couldn’t deny.

but with that closeness came a growing fear. you knew what you were, what your life entailed. could someone like jake truly leave behind everything he’d ever known? could you let him?

those questions weighed heavy on your mind, but for now, you pushed them aside. because in these moments, with jake by your side, nothing else seemed to matter.

the early morning sun was barely cresting over the horizon when you called the crew to attention. the crisp sea breeze was laced with anticipation, the crew bustling with a mix of eagerness and nerves. you’d spotted a merchant vessel the day before—heavily laden, from the look of it, and poorly defended. an easy mark.

jake stood on the periphery, watching with a furrowed brow as you barked out orders, your voice carrying over the creak of the ship’s rigging.

“jungwon, take the helm. we’ll come up on their starboard side, quick and clean. no unnecessary risks.”

“aye, captain,” jungwon replied, his usual easygoing demeanour sharpened with focus. he threw a quick, reassuring grin at jake as he moved to his post. “don’t worry, pretty boy. we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

jake forced a smile, but his unease was palpable. he hadn’t quite reconciled the thrill of adventure with the reality of what you did to survive. watching you prepare for an attack, your face set in a mask of steely determination, twisted something in his chest.

the attack was swift and efficient. your crew moved like a pack of wolves, swarming the merchant vessel with practised ease. jake watched from the deck, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the scene before him.

you were at the forefront, your sword gleaming as you faced down the terrified sailors. “surrender, and no harm will come to you!” you shouted, your voice carrying over the chaos. the merchant crew hesitated, their eyes darting between you and your men, before they dropped their weapons, their faces pale with fear.

jake’s stomach twisted as he watched the exchange. this wasn’t some grand adventure. this was real, and it was brutal. his hands gripped the railing, his knuckles white. he’d never seen you like this—so fierce, so commanding. and it scared him.

your crew moved quickly, securing the cargo and transferring the goods back to your ship. jake felt sick as he watched, a deep, uncomfortable knot forming in his gut. these weren’t just nameless strangers; they were people whose lives you were upending, and you did it with the kind of ruthless efficiency that made his blood run cold.

when the last crate was loaded, you ordered your crew back to the ship, your eyes scanning the merchant sailors one last time. you caught sight of jake watching you, his face a mask of barely concealed horror. you felt a pang of something you couldn’t quite name—regret, maybe? but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself that this was the life you’d chosen. the life you’d built.

back on your ship, the crew erupted into cheers as they inventoried the haul. gold, spices, fine fabrics—it was a good day’s work. but jake was silent, standing apart from the celebration, his expression closed off.

you approached him, a hint of unease curling in your stomach. “what’s wrong? i thought you’d be happy. we didn’t even have to draw blood.”

he looked at you, disbelief etched across his features. “happy? you think i’d be happy about this?”

your brows furrowed. “we got what we needed without anyone getting hurt. that’s a win in my book.”

jake let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “a win? you call this a win?” he gestured towards the merchant ship, now a shrinking speck on the horizon. “you just robbed them off everything. and you’re acting like it’s just another day.”

“it is just another day,” you shot back, irritation flaring. “this is what we do. this is how we survive.”

“survive?” his voice rose, drawing the attention of the nearby crew. “you’re a pirate, not some misunderstood hero! you kidnap people, you steal, and you’re telling me this is survival?”

your temper flared at the accusation in his tone. “what did you think this was, jake? a fairytale? you’re the one who got himself into this mess, stumbling around drunk at the port. did you think pirates were just misunderstood adventurers?”

he glared at you, his hands shaking with barely contained anger. “i didn’t have a choice! you kidnapped me, remember? i didn’t ask for any of this.”

you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “you didn’t seem to mind when you were running around the ship, trying to fit in. what, did you think this was some grand adventure for you to play at being someone else? wake up, jake. this is real. this is my life.”

his eyes flashed with something like betrayal. “i thought… i thought you were different. i thought there was more to you than this.”

you felt a sharp pang at his words, but you pushed it down, your expression hardening. “this is all there is. i’m a pirate. this is what i do. what did you expect?”

“i don’t know!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “i just… seeing you like that, taking everything from those people, it’s not what i thought you were.”

you took a step closer, your voice low and tense. “and what did you think i was, jake? some poor soul forced into this life against my will? i chose this. every bit of it. i’m not some damsel in distress waiting to be saved. i’m the captain of this ship, and i do what i have to do to keep us alive.”

he looked at you, his eyes searching your face as if trying to find something he’d lost. “i don’t know. i just… i thought there was something good here. something more.”

your heart ached at the raw honesty in his voice, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “maybe there is, but it’s buried under a lot of bad. and if you can’t accept that, then maybe you don’t belong here.”

his face went pale, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the words. finally, he turned on his heel and walked away, his shoulders stiff with barely suppressed anger.

you watched him go, the ache in your chest growing with every step he took. you’d known this moment would come eventually—that he’d see the darker side of your world and struggle to accept it. but seeing the disappointment in his eyes, the way he looked at you as if you were a stranger, was more painful than you’d expected.

the days that followed the raid were tense, the air thick with unresolved tension. jake remained distant, his demeanour cold and closed off. he threw himself into the work, no longer seeking out your guidance or approval. it was as if he’d built a wall around himself, one that you weren’t sure how to break down.

you found yourself watching him more often than you cared to admit, hoping that somehow, some way, you could find your way back to each other. your heart ached with the weight of everything left unsaid. he was different now—his boyish enthusiasm had been replaced with a grim determination that made your chest tighten. he still did his part, working alongside the crew, but there was no spark in his eyes, no hint of the person who’d once looked at the world with such wonder.

jungwon, ever perceptive, noticed the shift as well. he caught your eye one evening as you stood at the helm, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the deck.

“he’s still not talking to you?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you shook your head, your gaze fixed on jake’s distant figure. “no. he barely even looks at me.”

jungwon frowned, glancing over at the prince, who was helping tie down some loose ropes with a mechanical precision. “he’s hurt. you can see it in the way he carries himself. he’s not used to this life, and he’s struggling to find his place.”

you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i know. i just… i don’t know what to say to him. i tried explaining, but it just made things worse.”

jungwon’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle. “he’s not just angry about the raid. he’s angry because he feels like he doesn’t belong. and maybe… maybe he’s starting to realise that this life isn’t what he thought it would be.”

“or maybe he’s starting to realise that he doesn’t want to be here at all,” you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

jungwon reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm in a gesture of comfort. “give him time. he’ll come around. he cares about you more than you think.”

you managed a small smile, grateful for his support. “thanks, jungwon.”

unbeknownst to you, jake had been watching from the shadows, his jaw clenched as he took in the easy rapport between you and jungwon. he couldn’t hear your words, but he saw the way jungwon’s hand lingered on your arm, the way your expression softened when you spoke to him.

something ugly twisted in jake’s chest, a hot, burning sensation that he couldn’t quite name. it wasn’t just anger or hurt—it was jealousy, raw and unfiltered. he hated the way jungwon looked at you, the way he seemed to understand you in a way that jake couldn’t.

jake tore his gaze away, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of you and jungwon, couldn’t rid himself of the gnawing sense of inadequacy that clawed at his insides.

later that evening, as the crew gathered for dinner on the deck, jake sat apart from the others, his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast. you glanced over at him, your heart aching at the sight of his isolation, but you didn’t know how to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

instead, you turned your attention to jungwon, who was recounting a particularly wild story from your early days on the ship. he had the crew laughing, their voices mingling with the sound of the waves, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, to forget about the tension that lingered between you and jake.

jake, however, couldn’t take his eyes off you. the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at jungwon—it was all too much. he felt like an outsider, like he didn’t belong here, and the realisation hurt more than he’d expected.

he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the deck. the sudden movement drew everyone’s attention, and the laughter died away as the crew turned to look at him.

“i’m going to get some air,” jake muttered, his voice tight.

he didn’t wait for a response, pushing past the crew and heading towards the bow of the ship. you watched him go, your heart sinking. you wanted to follow, to talk to him, but something held you back.

“go after him,” jungwon said quietly, his eyes understanding.

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between jungwon and jake’s retreating figure. “he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

jungwon shook his head. “he’s hurting, captain. he needs to hear it from you.”

with a deep breath, you nodded, standing up and making your way across the deck. jake was leaning against the railing, his back to you, his shoulders tense.

“jake,” you called softly, your voice almost lost in the sound of the waves.

he didn’t turn around. “what do you want?”

you winced at the coldness in his tone, but you pressed on. “i just… i wanted to check on you. you’ve been distant.”

he let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face you. “distant? what did you expect, captain? you kidnap me, drag me onto this ship, and now you’re surprised that i don’t want to be here?”

your heart sank at the pain in his voice. “i know you didn’t ask for this. but i’m trying to—”

“to what?” he interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger. “to make me feel better about being a prisoner on your ship? to make me forget that you’re a pirate who steals and kills for a living?”

you flinched, the words hitting harder than you’d expected. “i never said i was perfect, jake. i told you from the beginning what this life was.”

“and i was stupid enough to believe that there was something more!” he shouted, his voice raw. “i thought i could be a part of this. i thought maybe, just maybe, i could find a place here. but all i’ve done is fool myself.”

you took a step closer, your voice trembling. “jake, please—”

he held up a hand, cutting you off. “don’t. just… don’t. i can’t keep doing this, pretending that i’m okay with everything. i’m not like you, and i never will be.”

the truth of his words stung, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. when you finally spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. “i know. and i’m sorry.”

he looked at you, his eyes filled with a pain so deep it made your chest ache. “why, then? why did you take me?”

you hesitated, the truth hovering on the tip of your tongue. because i needed the ransom. because i thought i could use you.

because i didn’t know i’d fall for you.

but you couldn’t say any of that, not now. not when the wounds were still so fresh.

instead, you looked away, your voice hollow. “i don’t know.”

jake shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “of course you don’t.”

he turned away, leaving you standing alone, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

for the rest of the evening, jake kept his distance, his eyes avoiding yours. and every time he saw you with jungwon, his jealousy flared anew, the bitterness and hurt twisting inside him until he didn’t know how to feel anything else.

he hated that he cared so much, hated that he couldn’t just turn off his feelings and move on. but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop wanting to be the one who made you smile like that.

and that, more than anything, was what hurt the most.

by the time the storm hit, the ship was already teetering on the edge of chaos. the sky had darkened to an unnatural shade of black, casting an eerie glow over the sea. you could feel the tension in the air, thick with the scent of saltwater and the low rumble of thunder in the distance. the crew moved with swift precision, tightening ropes, pulling down sails, and preparing for the onslaught.

“captain!” jungwon shouted from the helm, barely audible over the howling wind. “it’s coming in fast!”

“i see it,” you yelled back, your grip on the wheel tightening. the waves were already towering above the ship, slamming into the hull with relentless fury. the sea had turned into a churning monster, eager to consume you all.

you barked out orders, your voice cutting through the wind. “secure the cargo! bring down the main sail! everyone, brace yourselves!”

the crew scrambled to follow your commands, each member pushing their physical limits to keep the ship afloat. jake, amidst the chaos, worked alongside them, gripping onto ropes and securing what he could, his body soaked from the torrential downpour. every crack of thunder seemed to echo in his head, louder than the storm itself. but it wasn’t the storm he feared most—it was the words he'd spat out at you the day before.

he hadn’t meant to be cruel. but he was frustrated, confused, and angry at the life he’d been dragged into—kidnapped, held for ransom, now caught in a dangerous storm that could end his life. jake’s privilege had always shielded him from real danger, but now it was all crashing down.

and yet, as the storm raged around him, none of that mattered. all he could think about was the last thing he’d said to you. he had lashed out, criticising your life, your choices, the very thing you were good at. he’d pushed you away when all you had done was show him the kind of freedom he’d never known.

lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the deck in a blinding flash, and for a moment, jake lost his grip. he stumbled, caught by jungwon before a wave could sweep him away.

“focus!” jungwon snapped, his voice firm, though concern flickered in his eyes. “we need everyone working together if we’re going to survive this!”

jake nodded, shaking off the dizziness as he grabbed hold of the rigging once more. the storm was relentless, tossing the ship like a toy. but even as he fought through the wind and rain, all he could think about was you—where were you? were you safe? had you forgiven him for what he said?

the minutes dragged into hours, the storm refusing to relent. the crew battled through every wave, every gust of wind, holding the ship together by sheer force of will. you stood at the helm, drenched to the bone but unyielding. you steered the ship with a deft hand, navigating through the chaos like you had done so many times before. but even in the middle of the storm, your thoughts flickered back to jake. his words still lingered, stinging more than you cared to admit. you had grown used to resistance, to judgement, but hearing it from him—it had hit differently.

just as you thought the storm might break you, the winds began to ease. the rain slowed to a steady drizzle, and the waves, while still rough, were no longer threatening to capsize the ship. you gave a sigh of relief, wiping the water from your face, and began issuing new orders to your crew. “jungwon, check the sails. everyone else, assess the damage!”

but jake had only one thing on his mind. as the crew scattered to settle the ship, his eyes darted around the deck, looking for you. his heart pounded in his chest, panic rising when he couldn’t immediately spot you.

“where’s the captain?” he demanded, his voice frantic as he grabbed the nearest crew member by the arm. “where is she?”

“i saw her near the helm last,” the man replied, but that didn’t quell jake’s fear. he pushed past the others, slipping on the slick deck, his stomach churning not from the storm but from the thought of losing you without making things right.

“captain!” he called, voice hoarse. “captain!”

the ship creaked and groaned underfoot as jake searched every corner, every shadowed space, his heart sinking deeper with each second that passed. he cursed himself—why had he let his pride get in the way? he was stupid, reckless, and now he feared he might never get the chance to apologise.

finally, as he rounded the corner near the aft deck, he saw you. you were there with jungwon, overseeing the crew as they worked to fix the sails, your face set with focus, exhaustion evident in the lines around your eyes. relief flooded through him, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern as he noticed the strain in your posture.

without thinking, jake rushed toward you. his presence startled you, and you turned quickly, eyes widening at the sight of him approaching you with such urgency.

“jake?” you asked, surprised. “are you alright?”

he didn’t answer right away, his eyes trailing over your figure as if making sure you were unharmed. then you noticed the gash on his forearm, blood trickling down his skin.

“god, what happened?” you immediately stepped closer, grabbing his arm to examine the wound. “you’re hurt.”

“it’s nothing,” jake muttered, brushing it off. but he couldn’t hide the way his voice cracked, the emotion catching in his throat. “i… i was so scared i’d lost you.”

your hands paused, and you looked up at him, taken aback by the raw vulnerability in his voice. “i’m fine,” you reassured him, though your heart hammered in your chest. “i can take care of myself, jake.”

“i know,” he breathed, his voice thick with regret. “but i’ve been an idiot. i said things i didn’t mean. i didn’t realise how much i need you… until i thought i might never see you again.”

before you could respond, jake stepped closer, his hand slipping behind your neck, pulling you toward him. the tension between you snapped, and without warning, he crushed his lips against yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. the world around you seemed to still, the aftermath of the storm disappearing as your body pressed into his. his kiss was filled with all the words he hadn’t said, all the regret and longing, and you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervour.

when he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting against yours. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “for everything.”

you stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure how to respond. but one thing was clear—despite everything, the bond between you was unbreakable.

with the storm finally behind you and the ship no longer being tossed like a toy in the waves, you took a deep breath. jake was still standing beside you, a stubborn presence even as you directed the crew to restore order. his earlier kiss lingered in your mind, a distraction that you couldn’t afford to indulge in just yet.

“jungwon, see to the crew. make sure the rigging is secure and check the hold for any water,” you instructed, your voice carrying across the deck.

jungwon gave you a nod, casting a brief, assessing glance at jake before turning away to rally the crew. you turned back to the prince, his forearm still marked by the cut from earlier, a thin line of blood staining the makeshift bandage.

“you’re hurt,” you stated, gesturing to his arm. he glanced down at it as if only just remembering.

“it’s nothing,” he dismissed, though his voice was softer now, lacking the earlier bravado.

“come on,” you said, leading him below deck. he followed without argument, and you found yourself acutely aware of his presence behind you, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension.

once inside your small cabin, you gestured for him to sit. the room was dimly lit, the single lantern casting long shadows on the wooden walls. you rummaged through a chest, pulling out a clean cloth and a small flask of rum. “this is going to sting a bit,” you warned.

“i’ve had worse,” he muttered, but his eyes never left you as you approached. you wet the cloth and began to clean the wound, your fingers brushing his skin lightly. despite his attempt at indifference, you saw the way his jaw tightened, his breath hitching slightly as you worked.

you tried to focus on the task at hand, but it was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, the way his gaze seemed to burn into you. his closeness was overwhelming, and you found your hands trembling slightly as you wrapped a bandage around his arm.

“there,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you tied off the bandage. you looked up, meaning to step back, but he caught your wrist, his touch gentle but insistent.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice low. his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

you nodded, trying to pull away, but he didn’t let go. “it’s just a bandage, jake.”

“it’s more than that,” he insisted, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. “after everything i said… you didn’t have to help me.”

you shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “you’re part of my crew now. it’s my job to keep you safe.”

his lips quirked up in a small, almost sad smile. “am i really just another crew member to you?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. the truth was, you didn’t know what he was to you anymore. he was supposed to be a means to an end—a captive, a ransom. but somewhere along the line, things had shifted, and now you were standing here, your heart hammering in your chest as he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“jake…” you started, but his name died on your lips as he pulled you closer. your knees bumped against his, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders instinctively. his grip on your wrist loosened, his hand sliding up to your waist, pulling you between his legs. you could feel the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

“i’ve been an ass,” he admitted, his voice raw, filled with regret. “i didn’t mean what i said before.”

you swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to his lips, so close, so tempting. “you were right, though. i am a pirate, jake. this is what i do. i don’t… i don’t know how to be anything else.”

he shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “you’re more than that. you’re… incredible.”

your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. you opened your mouth to say something, but then his hand was cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips in a feather-light caress.

“i’ve been thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “about this… since the first night.”

you couldn’t find the words to respond, your heart pounding in your ears. the air between you felt electric, every nerve in your body screaming for you to close the distance, to give in to the desire that had been simmering between you for weeks.

“jake, we shouldn’t—” but your protest was cut off as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss. it was so different from the heat and passion of before, soft and searching, as if he were giving you a chance to pull away.

but you didn’t want to pull away. you kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed closer, your body aching for more. his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you into his lap, and you went willingly, your legs straddling his as his mouth moved against yours with growing urgency.

the kiss deepened, his tongue teasing against yours as his hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. you gasped into his mouth as he pulled you tighter against him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. the cabin seemed to shrink around you, the world narrowing to the feel of his hands, his mouth, the way he held you like he never wanted to let go.

when you finally broke apart, both of you breathing hard, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your face. “tell me you want this,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “tell me i’m not the only one.”

you could barely catch your breath, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “i… i don’t know what this is, jake. but i want it. i want you.”

his smile was pure relief, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed you again, slower this time, savouring the moment. and as you melted against him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, his neck, you knew that whatever came next, you were in this together.

the ship rocked gently beneath you, the storm outside a distant memory as you lost yourself in him, in the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands. and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you deserved this—deserved him.

when you both finally stilled, breathless and spent, the world slowly came back into focus. you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the cabin filled with the soft sounds of your breathing. for a long moment, neither of you spoke, the aftermath of what had just happened settling over you like a warm blanket.

jake’s hands traced lazy patterns on your back, his forehead resting against yours. “i didn’t plan on this,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips.

you laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “neither did i.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “but i’m glad it happened.”

your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. you nodded, your hand cupping his cheek. “me too.”

the storm outside had passed, but you knew this was just the beginning of another, one that was brewing between the two of you—a storm you were more than willing to weather.

the first light of dawn filtered through the small cabin window, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. you stirred, the warmth beside you a comforting reminder of the night before. slowly, you opened your eyes, turning your head to find jake still asleep beside you.

his hair was tousled, a few strands falling over his closed eyes, and his lips were slightly parted, a peaceful expression softening his features. in the quiet stillness of the morning, he looked almost boyish, a stark contrast to the fierce, determined prince you’d come to know. you couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling with a mixture of affection and something deeper, something that scared you more than you cared to admit.

you took a moment to drink him in, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes—the strong jaw, the curve of his mouth, the way his lashes fanned out against his cheeks. it was a rare thing to see him like this, so unguarded, so vulnerable. he’d given himself to you completely last night, in a way that went beyond just physical closeness. he’d trusted you, opened himself up in a way that left you feeling raw and exposed.

but as you watched him, the warmth in your chest began to cool, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. what were you doing? what had you done?

jake was a prince, destined for a life of duty and luxury, a world so far removed from the rough, uncertain life you led. he had responsibilities, people who depended on him. and you… you were a pirate, an outlaw with blood on your hands and a past you could never escape. what kind of future could you offer him? a life on the run, hiding from the law, facing danger at every turn?

you bit your lip, a knot forming in your stomach. no matter how much you cared for him, how much you wanted to keep him close, you couldn’t ignore the truth. jake deserved better than this. better than you. he deserved a life where he didn’t have to look over his shoulder, where he could live freely, surrounded by those who loved and respected him.

a pang of guilt shot through you as you remembered the way he’d looked at you last night, his eyes filled with something you were afraid to name. you’d seen that look before, on the faces of those who’d dared to care for you, to get too close. and every time, without fail, you’d ended up hurting them, pushing them away for their own good.

you couldn’t do that to jake. he’d already given up so much, already risked so much. he needed to go back, to the castle, to his people. even if he didn’t want to, even if it meant breaking your own heart in the process, you had to let him go.

a soft sigh drew your attention back to him as he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. for a moment, he seemed disoriented, his gaze unfocused as he took in his surroundings. then his eyes found yours, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.

“morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. he reached out, his fingers brushing over your cheek, and you felt your resolve waver. “didn’t think i’d ever wake up to see you looking at me like this.”

you forced a smile, your heart aching as you leaned into his touch. “you make it sound like i’m some heartless pirate.”

he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “well, you do have a reputation to uphold.”

“don’t remind me,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light even as the weight of your decision pressed down on you. you couldn’t let him see how much this was tearing you apart. if he knew, he’d never leave, never let you push him away. and that would be the worst thing you could do—to both of you.

he shifted, propping himself up on his elbow, his gaze never leaving your face. “you’re quiet this morning. something on your mind?”

you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “just… thinking about everything that’s happened. the storm, the crew… us.”

a flicker of concern crossed his face, but he quickly masked it, his hand moving to rest on your waist. “are you having second thoughts?”

“no, i—” you broke off, struggling to find the right words. how could you explain what you were feeling without giving too much away? “i just… i don’t want you to regret this. any of this.”

he frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied you. “why would i regret it?”

“because you’re not supposed to be here, jake,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “you’re a prince. you have a duty, a life back at the castle. this—us—it’s not… it’s not real.”

his grip on you tightened, his eyes darkening. “not real? after everything we’ve been through, everything i’ve felt—” he shook his head, his voice rising with frustration. “how can you say that?”

“because it’s the truth,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “you’re only here because i took you. you’re supposed to be at the castle, marrying some princess, doing what’s best for your kingdom.”

“is that what you think?” his voice was low, dangerous, the intensity in his gaze almost too much to bear. “that i’d rather be locked away in some castle, living a life that’s been decided for me?”

“it’s where you belong,” you insisted, hating the way your voice wavered, betraying the turmoil inside you. “you deserve a life of dignity, of safety. not this—”

“i don’t care about that!” he burst out, his frustration giving way to desperation. “don’t you get it? i don’t want that life. i want to be here, with you. i don’t care about the kingdom, or the title, or any of it if it means losing you.”

you closed your eyes, his words cutting through you like a knife. this was exactly what you’d been afraid of. he was willing to throw everything away for you, and you couldn’t let him do that. you had to be the strong one, had to protect him—even if it meant breaking his heart.

“jake…” you began, your voice trembling. “i don’t want you here. you’re just… a reminder of what i can never have, of the life i can never give you.”

his eyes widened, shock and hurt flashing across his face. “what are you saying?”

“i’m saying you need to leave,” you forced out, the words tasting like ash on your tongue. “you need to go back to your world and forget about me.”

he stared at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he processed your words. “no. i won’t do it. i won’t leave you.”

“you have to,” you insisted, your heart breaking with every word. “please, jake. it’s better this way.”

“better for who?” he demanded, his voice shaking. “for you? because it sure as hell isn’t better for me.”

tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook your head, your vision blurring. “you’ll understand one day. you’ll see that i’m right.”

“no,” he said again, his voice firm. “you’re wrong. you’re wrong about everything. and i’m going to prove it to you.”

before you could respond, he stood up, turning his back on you. the door to your cabin slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence that followed, leaving you alone with your shattered resolve and the aching emptiness where he’d been.

the days passed in a blur, each one bringing you closer to the inevitable. jake, true to his word, threw himself into life on the ship, trying to prove his worth. he took on every task with determination, learning the ropes, quite literally, and working harder than you’d ever seen him work. he pushed himself, and when the crew tried to tell him he didn’t need to, he pushed harder.

you watched him, your heart breaking a little more each day. he was trying so hard, trying to show you that he belonged here, that he could be part of your world. and every time he looked at you, with that stubborn, desperate hope in his eyes, it took everything in you not to break down, not to tell him the truth.

he didn’t know, couldn’t know, that it was too late. your course was already set, the ship heading back to his kingdom. you’d made your decision, and nothing he did would change it. you’d see him safely home, even if it meant tearing your own heart out in the process.

each night, when the crew had gone to sleep and the ship sailed through the quiet, dark sea, you stood at the helm, gripping the wheel tightly, your knuckles white with the force of it. jungwon had tried to talk to you, his eyes full of worry, but you’d brushed him off. there was nothing he could say that would make this any easier.

you were doing the right thing. you had to keep telling yourself that.

the day you saw the outline of the kingdom on the horizon, your heart clenched painfully in your chest. the castle loomed in the distance, its towers stark against the morning sky. you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was to come.

jake was below deck, sleeping in your cabin. he’d pushed himself to exhaustion the night before, working late into the night, and you knew he wouldn’t wake for hours. it was better this way. he wouldn’t fight you, wouldn’t try to stop you.

you steered the ship into the harbour, the crew working quietly, their usual banter subdued. they knew what this meant, what it would cost you, and they respected your decision, even if they didn’t fully understand it.

“captain,” jungwon said softly, coming to stand beside you. his eyes were full of unspoken questions, his expression a mixture of sadness and concern.

you nodded, your throat tight. “get him ready to disembark.”

jungwon hesitated, then sighed, turning away to do as you’d asked. you watched him go, your heart aching. this was it. there was no turning back now.

when you went down to the cabin, jake was still asleep, his face peaceful, a small frown creasing his brow. you stood in the doorway, your chest constricting painfully as you watched him. you wanted to remember him like this, wanted to etch this moment into your memory, because you knew it was the last you’d have.

carefully, you knelt beside the bed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. he stirred, murmuring something in his sleep, and your heart twisted. you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering for just a moment.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i’m so sorry, jake.”

then you stood, turning away before the tears could fall. you couldn’t let him see you like this. you couldn’t let him see how much this was tearing you apart.

by the time jake woke, the ship was docked at the harbour, the kingdom spread out before him. he sat up, confusion crossing his face as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements sluggish, still groggy from sleep.

“where…?” he trailed off, his eyes widening as he realised where he was. “no, no, no…”

panic seized him as he stumbled to his feet, rushing to the door. he burst out onto the deck, his eyes wild as he looked around, searching for you.

you were standing near the gangplank, your back to him. jungwon was beside you, his expression tense as he spoke in low tones. jake’s heart pounded in his chest as he took in the scene, dread pooling in his stomach.

“what is this?” he demanded, his voice hoarse. “what’s going on?”

you turned at the sound of his voice, your face carefully blank. his heart clenched at the sight of you, the pain in his chest almost unbearable. “we’re at your kingdom,” you said, your tone calm, too calm. “you’re going home.”

“home?” he stared at you, disbelief and betrayal warring in his eyes. “i don’t—this isn’t my home!”

“it’s where you belong,” you said quietly, your gaze unwavering. “it’s where you need to be.”

“no,” he said fiercely, taking a step towards you. “no, you don’t get to decide that. you don’t get to just—just drop me off like some—”

“jake,” you interrupted, your voice soft, almost gentle. “i’m doing this for you.”

he froze, his jaw clenching as he fought to hold back the anger, the hurt that was threatening to overwhelm him. “for me? you think i want this? you think i want to go back to being a prisoner in my own life?”

“you have responsibilities,” you said, your voice firm, but he could see the cracks in your composure, the way your hands trembled at your sides. “people who depend on you. a kingdom that needs you.”

“what about what i need?” he shouted, his voice breaking. “what about what i want? doesn’t that matter to you?”

you flinched, the words hitting you like a physical blow. “it does,” you whispered. “it matters more than you know.”

“then why?” he demanded, his voice desperate. “why are you doing this?”

“because i love you,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “and that’s why i have to let you go.”

jake stared at you, shock and pain etched on his face. for a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you fading away. then, slowly, the realisation dawned in his eyes, his expression hardening.

“no,” he said, his voice cold, distant. “no, you don’t love me. you’re just like everyone else. you’re just getting rid of me because i’m not worth the trouble.”

“jake—” you began, but he shook his head, his eyes blazing with anger.

“save it,” he snapped, turning away. “i don’t need your pity.”

you watched, helpless, as he strode down the gangplank, his back rigid, every line of his body radiating hurt and betrayal. he didn’t look back, didn’t give you a second glance as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there, alone, the pain of his words cutting deeper than any blade.

you’d done what you had to, what you knew was right. but as you watched him go, your heart breaking with every step he took, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just made the biggest mistake of your life.

as the ship began to pull away from the dock, the distance between you growing with every passing moment, you forced yourself to look away, to turn your back on the sight of him disappearing into the crowd. this was for the best, you told yourself. for both of you.

but the hollow ache in your chest told a different story.

as jake stood alone in the opulent chambers of the royal palace, the silence was deafening. the familiar surroundings—grand tapestries, polished marble floors, the scent of the garden wafting in through the open windows—felt foreign, hollow even. he clenched his fists, a bitter knot tightening in his chest as the events of the last few hours played on a loop in his mind.

you had brought him back. without a word, without a goodbye, you had returned him as if nothing had ever happened between them. had it all been a lie?

his throat tightened with the weight of his suspicions. the thought clawed at him—maybe, just maybe, all you ever wanted was the ransom. perhaps every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every tender moment under the stars had been part of the game, just another ploy to keep him content until you could cash in on the prize. he tried to push the idea away, but it clung to him like a shadow, deepening his resentment. he felt foolish now for believing there had been something more, something real.

the ache in his chest wasn’t just from the loss; it was from the sting of betrayal, the sinking realisation that maybe he had been nothing more than a tool, a pawn in your world of gold and greed. the woman he had begun to fall for… did you ever care for him at all? or had he been blinded by his own desires, seeing love where there was only cold calculation?

when he agreed to his father’s demands to marry the princess, he’d done it not out of duty but out of sheer numbness. if he couldn’t have the life he wanted, if you had rejected him and the world he longed for, then what was the point? it was easier to go through the motions, to let himself be swept along by the tide of duty, than to fight for something he thought was never real.

but everything changed a week before the wedding.

jungwon’s letter arrived without warning, delivered to him by a messenger under the cover of night. jake had almost dismissed it, almost crumpled it up and tossed it aside, but the familiar scrawl of the handwriting stopped him. he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the seal—your crew’s seal—for what felt like an eternity before finally opening it.

the words inside shook him to his core.

jungwon’s letter was raw, honest, describing in painstaking detail how lost you’d been without him, how you’d thrown yourself into your new venture with a desperation that worried everyone around you. you were no longer the pirate captain they’d known, but a driven, almost frantic version of yourself, working relentlessly to turn over a new leaf.

“she’s doing this for you, jake, i’ve never seen her like this. she didn’t even bother about the ransom part of the deal”, jungwon had written.

“she loves you more than you can imagine. she’s trying to make herself worthy of you, trying to give you a future she thinks you deserve. but she’s falling apart, and it’s because she believes she made the right choice by letting you go.”

jake’s hands had trembled as he read the letter over and over, his heart pounding with every word. it was as if a fog had lifted, and for the first time, he saw everything clearly. you hadn’t let him go because you didn’t love him. you’d let him go because you thought it was what was best for him. you’d sacrificed your own happiness for his sake, and it was tearing you apart.

the letter had ended with a simple plea: “come back to us, jake. she needs you more than ever.”

the realisation hit him like a punch to the gut. he’d been wrong—so terribly, heartbreakingly wrong. and he wasn’t going to lose you again.

now, he stood outside his father’s chambers, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted at his sides. he took a deep breath, steeling himself, before pushing the heavy doors open and striding inside.

the king looked up from his desk, surprise flickering across his face at the sight of his son. “jake? what is it? you should be preparing for the wedding.”

jake ignored the tightness in his chest at the mention of the wedding. “i need to talk to you.”

the king frowned. “can it not wait? there’s much to be done—”

“no, it can’t wait,” jake interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. he stepped closer, his heart racing, but his resolve unshakable. “i can’t go through with the wedding.”

silence fell over the room, thick and tense. the king’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “what are you saying, jake?”

“i’m saying i can’t marry someone i don’t love,” jake said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions roiling inside him. “and i can’t stay here, pretending to be happy when i’m not.”

the king rose from his chair, his face darkening with anger. “this is not about happiness. this is about duty, about securing the future of our kingdom. you can’t just walk away because of some—some fleeting infatuation!”

“it’s not infatuation!” jake’s voice rang out, sharp and defiant. he took a step forward, his eyes blazing. “i love her. and she loves me. she let me go because she thought it was best for me, but she’s wrong. the only place i belong is with her.”

“you belong here,” the king snapped, his voice cold and unyielding. “you are the prince, and soon you will be king. you have responsibilities—”

“what good is being king if i’m miserable?” jake shot back. “what good is a throne if i have to give up everything that makes life worth living?”

the king stared at him, his face a mask of disbelief and fury. “you’re being selfish, jake. this isn’t just about you. this is about our people, our legacy. you can’t throw it all away for some pirate.”

“she’s not just some pirate,” jake said, his voice low but fierce. “she’s everything. and i won’t lose her again.”

the king’s eyes flashed with anger, but jake stood his ground, his heart pounding in his chest. he knew he was risking everything, knew that defying his father like this could mean losing everything he’d ever known. but he didn’t care. not anymore.

“i’m asking you to let me go,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less determined. “i’ll do whatever you want, fulfil whatever duty you ask of me, but not this. not marriage. not a life without her.”

for a long moment, they stood there, father and son, locked in a silent battle of wills. then, slowly, the king’s shoulders slumped, the fire in his eyes dimming.

“you’re serious about this,” he said quietly, more a statement than a question.

jake nodded, his throat tight. “i’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

he sighed, the weight of the world seeming to settle on his shoulders. he looked at his son, really looked at him, and saw the pain, the determination, the desperate love that burned in his eyes.

“very well,” he said finally, his voice weary. “if this is what you truly want, i won’t stand in your way.”

jake’s heart leapt in his chest, hope surging through him. “thank you, father. you don’t know what this means to me.”

the king held up a hand, his expression stern. “but understand this, jake. if you walk away now, you may never have a place here again. are you prepared for that?”

jake met his gaze, his voice steady and unwavering. “i am. because the only place i need to be is with her.”

the king sighed again, then nodded slowly, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “then go, my son. and may you find the happiness you seek.”

jake didn’t wait for a second invitation. he turned and strode from the room, his heart pounding with anticipation, his mind racing. he had no time to waste.

he was going to find you, and he was going to bring you back, no matter what it took.

the sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the beach as you sat on the soft, warm sand. the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, a soothing backdrop to your swirling thoughts. you watched the sun dip lower, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson, yet your heart felt heavy with the memories of what had transpired over the past two months.

two months had passed since you left jake behind in his kingdom, believing you were making the right decision. in those weeks, you had poured yourself into your new life as a trade merchant, transforming your ship from a vessel of piracy to one of honest commerce. your crew had embraced the change, excited about the possibilities that lay ahead. the laughter and camaraderie on board had been a welcome distraction, yet every night, as you lay in your bunk, the loneliness crept in like a thief in the night.

on the surface, it looked like you were thriving. you had wealth, respect, and a steady stream of business flowing your way. but it was all a facade.

every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face. the way he’d looked at you that last night, so full of love and hope. you had thought it would get easier with time, but it hadn’t. the ache in your chest only grew, a constant, gnawing pain that no amount of success could soothe.

now that you were currently docked at his kingdom, you couldn’t help but think of him even more, your heart further clenching in pain.

sighing, you pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them as you gazed out at the sea. what had you done? you had given up the one person who made you feel alive, who saw you for who you truly were. you had convinced yourself that you were doing the right thing by pushing him away, sparing him from a life filled with uncertainty and danger. but now, as you looked out at the horizon, you felt only regret. you were a businesswoman, yes, but you were also a woman in love, and it hurt like hell.

you looked out at the sea, your heart heavy. maybe it was time to let go of the past. maybe it was time to accept that you’d made your choice, and now you had to live with it, no matter how much it hurt.

but then, a voice—a familiar, beloved voice—shattered the silence.

“y/n!”

you froze, your heart leaping into your throat. you must be dreaming. it couldn’t be—

“y/n!”

your heart raced, a mixture of disbelief and hope flooding through you. you turned around, your breath catching in your throat. there he was—jake. he stood a few paces away, his hair tousled by the sea breeze, his expression a blend of determination and relief. he looked different, more rugged, yet the spark in his eyes was unmistakable.

“jake!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. he ran toward you, and in that moment, everything else faded away. the world around you disappeared, and all that mattered was him.

he reached you in an instant, pulling you into his arms with such force that you stumbled, your feet sinking into the sand. you buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of salt and warmth. “i can’t believe it’s really you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against him.

his arms tightened around you, and you felt your heart swell. “jake, i—” you started, but he pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped your eyes.

“y/n, listen to me,” he said, his gaze fierce and unwavering. “i talked to my father. he finally understood. he gave me permission to leave the kingdom. i don’t want to be there without you. i want to be here, with you.”

your heart raced at his words. you had imagined this moment a thousand times, but now that it was here, you were overwhelmed with emotion. “but… what about your duties? your responsibilities?”

“i don’t care about any of that!” he replied, frustration threading his voice. “all that matters is you. i’ve been miserable without you. i thought i could move on, do what was expected of me, but i can’t. i love you, y/n.”

you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you wiped it away with the back of your hand. “i love you too, but i thought i was protecting you by leaving. i didn’t want to hold you back from your future.”

jake shook his head, his expression softening. “you didn’t hold me back. you set me free. i realized that the life i wanted, the life i’ve always wanted, is the one i can have with you. i’ll figure out my place in this world, but i can’t do it without you.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, igniting a flicker of hope that had long been extinguished. “are you sure?” you asked, your voice trembling. “what if things get complicated again?”

“let them,” he said fiercely, his eyes locking onto yours. “i’m done pretending. i want to build a life with you, no matter how messy it gets.”

in that moment, your heart soared. you stepped closer, and before you could think twice, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you. his lips met yours, a sweet, electric connection that sent shivers down your spine. the kiss was everything you had missed—fierce, passionate, filled with the yearning that had built up between you during your time apart.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you savoured the warmth of the moment. “you really mean it?” you asked, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt.

“i do,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “you’re the only one i want. forever.”

with that, he pulled you close again, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. laughter bubbled up between you as you revelled in the joy of being together once more. you felt lighter than you had in months, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders.

as he set you down, jake took a step back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “so, tell me about this new life of yours. a businesswoman, huh? i’m not sure i believe that.”

you laughed, a playful glint in your eye. “i’m serious! we’re now trading goods, sailing the seas, and—”

“trading goods? with pirates?” he teased, his brow raised in mock scepticism.

“hey! we’re honest merchants now,” you protested, crossing your arms playfully. “no more piracy!”

he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “you’ll see. we’ve got a shipment heading out next week, and i want you with us.”

his expression turned serious, a hint of determination in his eyes. “i’m in. whatever it takes, i’m by your side.”

in that moment, you both knew that the past didn’t matter anymore. you were no longer defined by your choices; you were defined by your love for each other. the future stretched before you like the vast, open sea, filled with endless possibilities.

and as you stood there on the beach, wrapped in each other’s arms, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. your hearts were finally aligned, ready to sail into the horizon of your new life.

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @yuniesluv @isa942572 @academiq @missychief1404 @kxppachu (the rest are tagged in a reblog!)

#౨ৎ 𝓐dy writes🪄#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #jake #sim jake #jake x reader #jake imagines #jake fics #jake oneshots #kpop fics #enhypen royal au #sim jaeyun #jaeyun x reader

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