#its not even that she assumes its me its that she always comes out guns blazing and then has to be like 'oh. well.' like how are you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rootedinrevisions · 1 month ago

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No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished.

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself.

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine.

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself.

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race.

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago

Note

Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird.

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands.

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable.

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents.

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government.

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner.

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense.

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap.

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half.

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go.

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion.

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint.

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal.

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist.

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot.

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch.

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares.

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait.

For now, this is more than enough.)

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #once again unable to resist the urge to write abt living buildings #duke and danny are pining no stop bc they're both like 'this is a bad time for a relationship/i have to keep too many secrets' etc etc #while also cuddling and going on dates that they dont call dates out loud and sighing wistfully when they think of each other #taking what small things they can while trying to hide their feelings....#some other batfam member is going to stumble upon them in public and chat a bit w dukes friend #then walk away texting the group chat like 'hey duke and his friend are madly in love but too shy/stupid to do something abt it.#lets play cupid lol' and then theyre all trying to get duke and danny together #it gets to the point that every time they hang out it ends with them doing some nonsense to escape the batfam and their kind but unhinged #attempts to get them together #thanks for the prompt!!!

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elliesdirtywifebeater · 1 year ago

Text

Tryna Smoke

paring: soft dom!ellie x sub!reader

cw: smoking, strap riding, slight teasing, praising

summary: after not seeing each other for a few weeks you and ellie hang out and smoke together but theres alot of pent up tension the two of you have been holding out on

you were on your way to your girlfriend ellies house, both of you were super excited because its felt forever since the two of you could actually be alone together.

as youre walking down the street you shot ellie a text letting her know you were almost there, she replied telling you to hurry up or else she'll die. shes always such a dramatic but you found it cute.

before you could reach the door to knock it flew open and you were met with an ecstatic ellie. you both threw your arms in the air before holding each other tight in a much needed hug "omg babe i miss you so much" she said as she stood up straight.

you returned her cheesy smile "i know im so amazing" you said jokingly rolling your eyes.

"oh whatever" she said with a small laugh "cmon in and meet me upstairs alright?" she moved to the side giving you room to come in and you do.

you turn around to look at ellie, "dont take too long, yk a girl is impatient" you said and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading upstairs to her room"

after a few moments of you getting comfortable in her bed ellie walked in with a princess lunchbox that she uses to hold her weed, wraps, lighters and shit like that. you always thought it was the funniest thing ever.

"you tryna smoke?" she asked as she held the box up before sitting down next to you "uh hell yeah i am" you say shifting your body to face her. she opens the box up and sat everything down on her rolling tin and started rolling a few joints.

you watched her hands and the way she gripped the grinder, how she licked the paper and how her fingers worked while she rolled them. she noticed you absolutely gawking at her as she was rolling, "youre staring baby" she whispered to you and you jumped out of your daze. "nuh uh no i wasnt" you said looking away "id wanna look at me too dont worry" she said being a total smartass for earlier.

"asshole" you said trying to cover it with a cough.

she lit two up as soon as she finished the last joint and handed you the other, she was never one to share to be honest. "you're so stingy williams" you said jokingly as she put everything away.

while the two of you were talking about nonsense you didn't even realize how close you two were physically. finishing off the joint she sparked ellie looked at you for a second not saying anything, which is normal because ellie tends to be the quiet type when high.

you noticed her face inching in on yours and without saying anything she kissed you, resting her hand on your face pulling you in. you place your hands on her thighs softly gripping them as she deepened the kiss.

she pulls out of the kiss and quickly pulls her shirt off and you follow behind doing the same going back into the kiss afterwards.

"stay here and take these off" ellie mumbled against your lips before walking over to her dresser. she pulled out her black strap, youve heard her mention having one but she never showed it to you. you looked at it for a bit and assumed it was like 6ish inches maybe 7.

"hey why dont you light another one for us babe" she said while she took her jeans off and put the strap on.

you listened and lit another one, taking a few hits she comes over to the edge of the bed and crawled up next to you sitting back slightly. she pulled you over to her and you sat on her thigh, you leaned over to her and shot gunned the blunt you lit.

"fuck that was hot" ellie said as ran her hands up and down your body. "youre hot" you said taking another hit before kissing her.

youd never be this confident in doing any of this sober, ellie knows how shy you can be but she also knows the things you can really do and handle.

you started rocking your hips back n forth grinding on her thigh. "fuck baby youre already so wet for me" she huffed out.

ellie wanted you more by the second just from the sight of you. you riding her leg, face flushed red, moaning out quiet profanities.

she grabbed your leg bringing it over so you were in a straddling position. hovering over her strap she looked up at you with wanting eyes, "c'mon and take my cock like i know you can baby"

the rasp in her voice sent a swarm of butterflies to fit your stomach up. you started lowering yourself down on her and gripping her shoulders for support "take your time pretty" she whispered to you taking the blunt from you hitting it a few times before putting it out.

you moaned out ellies name as you fully sunk down on her, "fuck its so big" you stuttered out.

you were slowly rocking your hips against her getting used to the feeling, once comfortable you started bouncing down, "oh my god fuck" ellie moaned "e-everything okay?" you said between moans. she nodded in response "i just.. fuck-" she was cut off by her moans, her grip intensified on you "i didnt expect it to grind against my clit like that, shit." she grunted out.

"fuck you look so good riding me" she grabbed your neck and pulled you into a kiss, reaching her free hand down she started rubbing your throbbing clit with her thumb. both of your moans fill up the room

you throw your head back at the sudden contact, youre sensitive and ellie loves to take advantage of that. she loves seeing you fall apart at her disposal.

she brought your face back to meet hers "i wanna see you while im fucking you." the sudden assertiveness in her voice made you go faster, babbling nonsense as ellie began thrusting her hips upwards trying to match your rhythm.

"e-ellie m'gonna.. fuck" you stuttered out. her hands found their way back to your hips as her thrusts got faster. "hold it in." she demanded "w-what?" you question her "you heard me baby" she grunted out as she flippped the two of you over, not moving from inside of you.

she straightened herself and continued thrusting. placing her hand on your lower stomach, she applied pressure causing you to whimper her name.

"youre taking me so good baby" she grunted.

she threw your leg over her shoulder going deeper, hitting all the right places. her hands ran up and down your legs before stopping at your core, her thumb teased your clit making your body jolt at the random contact.

her thrusts became more sloppy and both of your moans grew louder as she got closer "my god.. cmon pretty cum for me.." she could barely speak. seeing her break sent you over the edge.

your nails dug into ellies thighs, and your back arched as you came all over ellies length, she started mumbling curse words under breath as she finished right after you.

ellie pulled out of you and huffled trying to catch her breath. she looked down at the mess she made of you, with a soft grin she leaned down. "you have no idea how bad ive been wanting to do that to you baby." she whispered by your ear before kissing right below it.

you let out a soft moan mixed in with panting. finally being able to speak you smiled and gave her a quick kiss on her lips "we should have done this sooner" you said earning a soft laugh from ellie "i agree"

"cmon lets go clean up in the shower" ellie stood up removing the strap. you nodded and got up stumbling your way to the bathroom making ellie laugh at your struggle.

you were soon met with ellie in the bathroom and she holds you from behind and leans her head down by your ear "we can have a round two if you want baby" she said grazing her fingers along your body sending chills up your spine.

#Spotify #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #eillie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #fxf #the last of us 2

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uglypastels · 1 year ago

Text

Not Wholly Evil |X| pirate!Eddie au

a/n here it is. the final chapter. I am so excited to share it with you all, just as much as it pains me that it actually is coming to an end. I've worked on this story for almost a year, and it had been a risk I had no idea how it would play out, but seeing how much everyone has enjoyed this story and supported me in my little experiment really made all the days I say in front of my computer screaming worth it <3 thank you all so so much for trusting the process

Series Masterlist

word count: 14.3k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near-death experiences. hanging. men are pigs: implied mentions of past abusive experiences [of background characters]. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. prison. capital punishment.

there will be several mentions of other ST characters in this chapter, and some instances might not be the most favourable of portrayals, but this is not to indicate my opinion on them. I am simply intertwining universes. there is also a name spelled differently than in the shows and that's just for the sake of the setting.

Chapter 10: Lock and Key

“Some pirates achieved immortality by great deeds of cruelty or derring-do. Some achieved immortality by amassing great wealth. But the captain had long ago decided that he would, on the whole, prefer to achieve immortality by not dying.” ― Terry Pratchett, The Color of Magic

Everything went into chaos, happening so quickly that you genuinely got the sensation of being frozen in time and space, just letting everything around you go by, unable to intervene. Your mind could not work at that speed to understand everything that was happening, too far down into a shock to catch up. But when you finally did, you screamed.

‘No, father, no.’ You tried to push yourself away from him, but his grip was too firm. Even if you had, the chances of getting past the barricade of armed bodies to Eddie was impossible. ‘You can’t do that!’ you trashed around in his arms like a wild fish out of water.

All your father did was pull you closer, further away from Eddie, who you could just make out from between the uniforms and bayonets. The glimpses you got of his face showed a stoic expression. He wasn’t even trying to fight it. The last thing you saw before you were turned around and practically handed over to someone was the chains on his wrists.

‘Take her away from here,’ your father told his closest guard, ‘she’s hysteric.’ And perhaps you were, as you kept screaming at them to let go of you. The pleas quieted down the further from the harbour you got, changing into silent sobs by the time you reached the gardens of your home.

‘It’s alright, miss,’ the guard tried to calm you as best as possible. ‘You’re safe now.’

The pearly white building towered over you as you entered its shadows, and as soon as you did, you saw almost the entirety of the house staff standing in the main hall, awaiting you. Their faces blurred with their welcoming greetings and sweet words of comfort. A woman took you from the guard, immediately guiding you up the stairs, mumbling something to him and shouting about to the rest of the people around. You could not place any name to her face, and having always been quite good with remembering people, you could only assume she had been a new addition to the staff since you had last been home. Looking over everyone around you, most of them must have been.

That’s right. Your father had always been keen on replacing the staff but usually had been around to witness it, take in the new batch from the beginning, and, most importantly, say goodbye to the old ones.

You wanted to protest at every corner you turned up to your room, but the group of maids that had accumulated around you was like a forcefield, unbreakable. One of them opened the large double doors that led to your room. There was barely any time for you to sink in the feeling of being back in it after so many weeks as you were pushed through another pair of doors. There, a bath had already been prepared, the water steaming hot. You let yourself be dragged to the centre of the room and mechanically put your arms up for the ladies to take your dress off. Had they always been this rough?

They mumbled about the state of your dress to one another as if you weren’t even there, and in their defence, you weren’t. Your mind was miles away, barely aware of what was going on. The only thing that pulled you back into the room was the gasp of the women as your dress fell to the floor. You looked down at where all their eyes had locked in on.

‘Did they do this to you, miss?’ One of them asked, pointing in fear at the scar on your ribs. It had gotten much smaller over the weeks, but compared to the rest of you, you could imagine how grotesque it might look to people like them.

‘Uhm, no,’ you mumbled, ‘I tripped. On our ship.’ You barely recognised your voice as you spoke, too tired to put any emotion into them. The women looked at each other hesitantly before continuing on with their tasks.

You just about felt the hot water burn as they got you into the bath or poured it over your head to wash your hair. The scrub of the cloths over your limbs did practically nothing. All you could do was stare out ahead of you at the hawk engraved into the wood panelling on the wall across from you and how you had always seen it as a sign of comfort but now noticed how angry its eye looked. Staring directly at you at all times. You lulled your head slowly, trying to get it to look away, but it just followed you around until someone grabbed you by the side to stop you from twisting.

‘Sorry, miss. Just trying to get out this knot.’ One of them said as she combed out your hair, tugging your entire head back against the edge of the bath.

You had not even realised how much grime came with being on a boat full of pirates for weeks. Even though you had tried to wash yourself regularly, there was never enough fresh water. By the time the ladies were done, the water had gone cold, and your whole body was red and sore from the scrubbing. You could barely feel your fingertips, but your nails were perfect again.

Trembling, you got out of the bath and quickly were wrapped up in linen to soak up the water. Like any other day, they began to put your undergarments on, preparing you for a dress that you could not even think about the weight of, but no matter how many layers they put on you, you were still shivering.

Someone, you had no idea who, pulled a blanket over your shoulders and put a large cup of lemon tea into your hands. It used to be your favourite, but the sips tasted bitter no matter how much sugar you poured. You stood in the middle of the room, holding the cup and felt all their eyes on you, drinking your tea with a shaky hand. No matter how you held it or steadied your arms, the porcelain clinked together louder and louder until it smashed onto the ground, the hot liquid pooling around you. Before you could apologise, someone was on their knees cleaning it up.

‘I am so sorry,’ you cried out, tears already threatening to return despite it being only a few minutes since they had dried up. With water pouring over your face and hair in the bath, the tears would have been washed away, but now there was nowhere to hide them.

‘No worries, miss,’ one of the maids said. She looked you up and down, a corset in her hands, clearly seeing a mess of a woman in front of her. ‘We should get you ready; there is a meal waiting downstairs and I am sure you’re famished.’

‘I am alright, I just want to—’ you wanted to disappear. Get out of everyone’s sight. You wanted to lock yourself in your room or run away, just be anywhere but here, surrounded by these strangers. You wanted Eddie. Where was he now? He must have been dragged into the dungeons.

You pushed back the next load of tears that were breaking through.

‘Miss, we must insist.’ The maid said, somewhat concerned, and hesitated. ‘The food will do you good.’ And yet, the idea of eating now made you feel quite ill to the stomach.

‘I would really just like to be alone now.’ If you had more energy, your statement might have come out more pointed, giving you more edge over the staff. You would have fought them until you’d slam the door behind the last one, but instead, you let yourself be trapped into a dress—a beautiful green garment that the women were not shy to praise as they put it on you—and sent you off to the dining room.

Once, you would have walked these halls alone, with your head held high and letting the steps of your heels announce your presence in any room, but now the clicking against the marble floors made you wince and the presence of the maids and guards following you certainly did not help to put your mind at rest.

The dining table was set, filled from one end to the other with dishes, but you could barely stomach a spoonful. The same happened at dinner. You could not think of eating these extensive meals knowing that Eddie was kept locked up somewhere, most likely not given anything to eat since he had been arrested. Your mind was whirring with ideas, but each and everyone was immediately halted when you saw that there was nowhere in the house you could go without onlookers. The chances of you being allowed into the dungeons and speaking to him were close to zero.

Having eaten exactly two bites from your plate, you excused yourself back to your room, where people were ready to get you out of your dress and into your nightgown. Once done, one of the maids was prepared to blow all the candles out, but you quickly stopped her.

‘Wait,’ you called, ‘could you leave one on, please.’

The woman nodded and left one of the candles in the holder burning before leaving the room. You sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to catch your breath, but the room felt so stuffy—a ridiculous thought considering the room was bigger than Eddie’s quarters, possibly the double of it. The candle only gave light to its nearest surroundings, letting the rest of the space, and you with it, be eaten up by the night. It was overwhelming, together with the hot air swallowing you whole. As your chest tightened, you ran to the window, pushing it open. You greeted the cool night air with a sigh.

Nights at home were never quiet, but unlike in Saint Claire, it was not drunken brawls that kept the shores alive but the rustle of waves and the chirping cicadas. The streets buzzed with the sounds of nature, illuminated in silver by the moon, now an almost complete sphere.

You had always loved the view of your room, but now it felt more like a cruel joke as you could look out at the harbour and the gates of Star Port. It was like a million pinpricks stabbing into you. The Hellfire was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t expect anything less. With Eddie arrested, it would have been mad of the crew to stay behind, risking their own capture.

Still, the feeling you got at the sight of the empty harbour sank deep into your stomach, not helping with how you had felt before opening the blinds, and when you closed them again, the room seemed to have grown in size. Large, cold, empty, with you standing in the middle staring at your bed. Sitting on it, let alone sleeping, was impossible. The second you touched the mattress, you were scared you’d sink straight through the cotton, and the sheer size of it…

You lay there for hours, deciding whether to curl up and make yourself as small as possible or to spread your arms out in a poor attempt at taking up some of the space meant only for you. Every time you moved, your hand would grab for the sheets, hoping that one of those times, you would feel more than air. If you opened your eyes, you would see him sleeping peacefully by your side.

Most of your pillows had met the ground as you threw them in frustration. You had spent years in this bed, perfectly fine, and only several days with Eddie. So, why were you feeling this profound loss over his absence besides you? It wasn’t fair.

Eventually, you managed to fall to sleep, quite literally, as pure exhaustion tipped you over and made your head finally hit down. There were no dreams, nightmares or memories to haunt you, as you were awoken before any of them could take shape. Firm knocks on the door announced your maids, and they filled the room in their designated corners.

‘Good morning, miss.’ They said chirpily as they got you dressed and ready for another day. All you replied with throughout the entire process was a mumbled ‘’morning,’ which you hoped could be blamed for having only been awake for a few minutes.

‘Breakfast will be served soon,’ you heard. The mention of food again twisted at your guts, but an idea began to bloom in your mind.

‘Will my father be there?’ He seldom dined with you, leaving you to eat your meals in the company of the staff, but you assumed he would want to see you after all these weeks.

‘I assume so,’ the woman brushing your hair said. You nodded curtly, as much as possible, when someone held on to your head. The prospect of speaking to your father face to face brought a new energy into your step.

You walked out of that room determined and with your head held high, only to be disturbed by footsteps parallel to yours. Two pairs. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, and they just happened to be walking there, too, but they followed you down the hallway, around all the corners. By the time you reached the dining room doors, you had grown tired of it.

‘I am quite capable of walking on my own, thank you,’ you said, coming to an abrupt stop, making the two men behind you ‘have done it all my life, in fact.’

‘Yes, of course, miss,’ said one of the guards who you bumped into at your sudden halt. ‘It is just—’

‘Just what?’ You crossed your arms.

‘Well, your father—’ he stopped speaking at the sight of your unimpressed, somewhat annoyed expression. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the confrontation. ‘We are here to protect you.’

‘From what exactly?’ This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

‘From any danger, miss.’

‘I was not aware this house was so full of threats.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘I appreciate the efforts, gentlemen, but I doubt you will be needed.’

‘But your father, miss.’ The other man tried to argue, but you were not having any of it.

‘I will not be patrolled in my own home!’ You shouted, pushing the doors to the dining room open. Your father sat at the opposite end of the large table, fork mid-air to his mouth. ‘Father, this is absurd.’

‘I think it is perfectly reasonable to want to protect my daughter. What is absurd,’ much to your annoyance, he spoke in his usual collected and cool-toned manner. He waited to continue speaking until you sat at the table. ‘Is you being held hostage for weeks at the hands of some barbarians.’

‘They are not barbarians, Father,’ you ignored the hands that spooned food onto your plate. ‘They took rather good care of me, actually.’ You bit your cheek, trying not to think of the days you spent in a cage. But even considering that, you were aware of your fortune with the circumstances you had been put under. Many more people had encountered enemies at sea, and few had been able to return home and live to tell the tale… or the preferred version of events, at least.

‘Is that why you look so sick and frail?’ he spoke bluntly, taking you back. ‘Because of how well they treated you?’

‘They did their best with what they had,’ you believed. It was your choice to starve yourself for the first days on board, refusing to eat anything they gave you. And you could hardly expect a feast such as you held in front of you now, every day in the middle of the deep waters. Even on board the Red Tail, the meals had been somewhat shoddy. ‘I just do not think that…’ you stopped yourself from using his name. ‘That man deserves to be in prison.’

‘Of course not.’ Your father took a bite. ‘He will be hanged for his crimes.’

‘W-what?’ Your fork clattered onto the ground. ‘Father, you cannot— I know he had tried to take money from you but—’ Murder and high treason. That is what he was arrested for. Had your father somehow found out about the Red Tail? But how could he… there were no survivors.

No survivors. He killed them all. He had—

‘Do you know who that man is?’ Something in your father’s voice sounded sharper, more pointed.

‘I thought so,’ you hesitated. Yes, you had spent your days and most tender moments with him, but what did you know about Eddie Munson?

‘Then you should understand the severity of this situation.’ Only if you were to believe hearsay and talk of the people on the streets that shaped this image of a blood-thirsty monster that roamed the seven seas, killing everything in his path. It is what you believed him to be yourself until not very long ago until practically every fibre in your body had been proven wrong.

Or at least, God, you hoped you had been wrong.

Your father sighed, ‘I know it is difficult, after all you must have spent a lot of time with them on that ship, and I do not know what lies they had fed you, but these are serious matters that begun long before any of this and need to finally be taken care of.’

‘Well, explain it to me because I would like to know what is happening.’

At this, he scoffed. ‘All you need to know is that man is a dangerous criminal and should be treated as such.’ But then, what about everything Eddie had told you? What about all the pieces you had managed to gather of the crumbs he and everyone else left you? There was more to it all, and maybe you did not understand yet, but you would.

‘When?’ you plucked at your food on the plate, defeated, ‘when is the hanging?’

‘In four days.’ If you had been well enough to eat, you would have choked. You had barely come to terms with returning home, if at all, and now this. Prisoners were usually held for weeks before a date was set for an execution. They were clearly adamant about taking care of him quickly.

For the sake of everyone else, you ate a bit of your breakfast, each bite sticking uncomfortably heavy in your throat. After that, you got up without saying another word. The two guards who had walked in with you were on high alert again, ready to follow you, but stopped to look nervously at the governor when you glared at them.

‘Let her go,’ he waved them off, ‘but keep an eye on her.’

You huffed out a breath and walked away.

The rest of the day you spent walking around the town, mainly the alley of the market that led to one of the entrances to the dungeons. You had no idea why you were there, considering there was nothing you could do. Besides the fact you could clearly see the new set of guards appointed to follow you around the streets, they seemed utterly futile, considering all eyes in the street were on you. Every person there was highly aware of your presence.

You used to walk around the market nearly daily, making polite chats with the salesmen as you bought fresh fruit to later eat at the shore or in the garden. Most people knew that you had decided to join the Red Tail on their voyage primarily because of your enthusiasm to finally leave the island and go on an adventure.

It must have taken quite some time, they would say in some form or another, to convince your father.

I can be quite persuasive when I have to be; you remember how proud you had felt. After months of begging everyone around you to let you go, promising them that you would be safe and careful and not get in the way of anyone, finally, they let you go. Under Admiral Carver’s watch, you spent weeks enjoying the breeze and the waves, awaiting what the rest of the world would bring.

The ship sailed for four weeks to another naval post. You did not know their exact business, nor did you care, as you now had a whole new land to explore. The city was larger and nothing like home. The people looked different and spoke an entirely different language, but you still managed to get around and on the market behind your house. It had been excellent and eye-opening, only making you more eager to see what else to discover. But unfortunately, there was only so little time, and before you knew it, you had to return home. You remember the last day. It had been raining, but it did not stop anyone from loading the new supplies. Somehow it seemed like much more needed to be brought on board for this half of the journey than the first.

What’s in those barrels, you asked, but no one ever replied. They barely ever did. It wasn’t your place to ask questions in these matters. You were simply a passenger on the ship, verging on stowaway, spending your days in the quiet of your own room for the most part until…

It was the middle of the day, and the sun burned above you brightly, yet you shivered. You had always known to trust your father’s judgement and his decisions, but there was no possible way in which this was right. That this was how it would end.

The alleyway practically screamed at you for you to go and run in and get him out of there, but with so many people watching, it would be hopeless. The guards would get you before you had even reached the stairs. You would have to wait.

‘It’s good to see you again, miss.’ A voice pulled you out of your thoughts. It took you a few slow blinks to realise who it was.

‘Oh, you too, Mr Bowman.’ you smiled towards the merchant as he smiled at you through his bushy beard. He was sitting next to his table of… you were not sure what to call them. The man was quite the eccentric, and you had barely ever seen him actually make a sale on any of his products, but you doubted he was there for business anyway. ‘Have I missed much in the past months?’ You could always count on him for good stories about the townsfolk. The man had all his senses on sharp, constantly vigilant of everything around him.

‘I think your return is the biggest news we’ve had in a while.’ He scratched his beard, ‘That, and well, the upcoming execution, of course.’

‘People already know?’ You blinked, not having expected that to be public knowledge yet. Then again, it is an event like no other. Preparations have to be made.

‘Edward the Banished gets arrested, and you expect people not to know?’ He laughed almost mockingly as he usually did, but you looked at him blankly.

‘The Banished?’ you had heard much about Eddie, but this name was new to your ears.

‘Yes, ridiculous name, if you ask me,’ he waved it off, ‘Pure sensationalism as it rolls smoother on the tongue than deserter or runagate, quisling, traitor—’

‘I understand,’ you stopped him nervously. ‘But how did he get this name? What did he do?’

‘HA!’ he startled you with volume. ‘What didn’t he do, you should ask.’ This caused many of the other merchants around you to weigh in on the subject.

‘I heard he abducted the governor’s daughter.’

‘That’s her. She’s right here.’

‘Oh. Well, he had attempted to assassinate the king of England!’

‘The Prince, you blockhead. And he did kill him!’

‘He has burned entire islands down. All over a game of cards.’

‘Stole an entire fleet and handed it over to the Spanish, just like that.’

‘He drinks the blood of his enemies!’

‘Sold his soul to the devil!’

Everyone looked at the old man that shouted this out. You were afraid to ask more questions, so let the others do this for you. ‘What do you mean, he sold his soul?’

‘He did! Did all those things to offer himself to Satan and do his dirty deeds here on earth. He is cursed to sail the seas in his wicked ship with the unrighteous crew for all eternity.’

‘Well, that eternity won’t last much longer.’ Someone commented, resulting in a chuckle around the street. Most of the people laughed, but you stayed quiet, your mind going back to Eddie, his body covered in unexplainable scars. The wind suddenly grew stronger.

‘I’m telling you,’ the man continued, ‘we won’t get rid of him yet! Not until Hell freezes over!’

‘Someone give the man a hat; he’s had too much sun,’ Mr Bowman called, rich coming from him, whose balding head was burning bright red. He then turned to you, shrugging as the rest had clearly proven his point. ‘And that is why I do not mess around with pirates, deary, no matter how charming they may seem.’

‘Excuse me?’ were the first words coming out of your mouth in the last few minutes, and you quickly regretted having them form into another question.

‘I saw you two yesterday at the arrest.’ Of course, he had. Nothing around here ever escaped this man. He looked proud of himself for having witnessed the events. ‘It was quite dramatic, seeing lovers have to be broken apart like that.’

‘I think you might have had too much sun today,’ you tried to sound casual as you laughed it off.

‘I am not here to judge,’ he said, putting his hands up in surrender, ‘simply to advise.’

‘Thank you, Mr Bowman.’ You smiled politely, ready to escape the conversation. You had been used to him often throwing around false and farfetched accusations, and even listening to this conversation, you knew it was nothing if not complete nonsense, just gossip gone too far along the years. So now that he had actually been correct, it stunned you, even maybe scared you. What would the people around you think if they knew what happened between you and Eddie? How would they react if they knew how you felt about his death sentence? You would be deemed mad.

Of course, the not-so-inconspicuous guards followed you back to your room, where you stayed for the rest of the day until it was time for dinner. Your father did not join you this time. As hunger finally struck you, fighting nausea caused by the stress of the last few days, you ate everything served to you.

On the ship, you had thought that once you came back, you wouldn't be able to stop eating all the things you had been missing for months, but nothing tasted as good as you remembered. In fact, nothing was as good as you remembered. The food was bland, the flowers not as vibrant, and the people not as joyous. Once, you had heard laughter and chatter, but it seemed like the streets grew cold and silent, leaving you alone to your thoughts.

After your meal, you walked out of the room but turned left instead of taking the right towards your room. People immediately caught on.

‘Miss? Where are you going?’ A guard called out.

‘Oh,’ you attempted to sound like you had not expected this exact conversation when you moved, ‘just thought of going on a stroll. The night air does me rather well.’ You grinned in a way you hoped would come off naive.

‘I do not think that’s a good idea.’ The guard said. ‘I would suggest that you return to your room,’ he spoke in a tone telling you that it was not a suggestion at all. Not in the slightest.

‘Am I on house arrest?’

‘See it more as a curfew.’

You scoffed at the idea, or more that you had very little choice but to obey. There was a moment in which you stared up at the guard, switching between expressions to get him to crack and let you go, but to your disappointment, he cocked his head toward your room.

How were you ever supposed to get to Eddie if they constantly watched you? The question kept you up another whole night and the next day. Just for the sake of it, since they so desperately needed to be with you at all times, you decided to sit in the library for about four hours with no book in sight, just staring out the window, letting them stare at you. At a certain point, you had caught one man actually yawning.

‘I am absolutely certain that there are at least fifty things that would be more productive for you to do then this,’ you broke the deafening, maddening silence, still looking out the window. You had counted all the leaves on the tree branch that kept hitting the pane in the breeze and had recollected every corridor and door in the house. In the reflection of the glass, you could see the guards glance nervously at each other, and with a smile, you turned to face them. ‘You can just go. I won’t tell anyone.’ But they stood their ground. With a groan, you sank back down into the chair.

It would take much longer for them to break, so much more time that you—that Eddie—did not possess. Three days left before the execution. Three days left for you to take the chance and do something. Save him. There were a million ideas, one worse after the other, with so many risks and problems that it could eventually end in your own hanging.

You shut your door at the end of the day, and it must have sounded through the entire house. Another day gone, and you had gotten nowhere. You could see the shadows of their feet come through the gap underneath your door, and they would be there the next morning when you awoke. Sleep deprived from tossing and turning as long as the sun was down. The bed still felt too big for comfort. At one point, they had run into the room at the sound of muffled screams, just for you to pull your head out of your pillow to yell at them to get out.

You walked towards the dining room for breakfast, this time wearing a rose gold dress, surprised not to be followed by a parade of footsteps but halted at the sound of voices coming from inside the hall.

‘I think it is safe to say that she does not require any supervision, sir.’ one of the guards said. You never bothered to learn their names, too frustrated to care, but you learned to recognise their voices from the amount of squabbling you had done.

‘Is that so?’ your father munched away.

‘She does nothing but mope around all day, quite harmless, I’d say… uhh, sir.’ The other added.

Mope? You did not mope, if only because they sucked your life out with their constant “supervision”. As much as you wanted to burst into the room, you composed yourself and listened on.

‘Does she seem well, in the head, I mean?’ Your father asked, but they did not reply. Not verbally, at least; you could imagine them looking at each other in the way they did, and just the idea made you clench your fists until they turned pale.

‘She’s stubborn, a bit immature, a bit aggressive.’ One of them chose his words carefully and slowly.

‘So that’s a no, I take it,’ your father concluded. You took this as your opportunity to announce yourself with a few loud steps, moving back a few paces to repeat them with exaggeration.

‘Good evening, father,’ you said as you took your seat, not giving him or the other man any more of your attention. The guards glanced at you nervously before leaving the room.

‘Terrorised the guards, I see?’ he asked.

‘No more than they did me,’ you replied in the same emotionless tone as you ate.

‘I just wanted what’s best for you. It had been a tumultuous time, and you had gone through quite– ’

‘Is that a reason to… to lock me up and have me followed around like some kind of—’ You were at a loss for words, so instead, opted for a frustrated groan and stuffing your face with a forkful of lamb.

‘Well, you’ve proved me wrong. Clearly, you can still care for yourself.’ he wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. ‘I’ll make them let you be from now on,’ and with that, he walked away. You couldn’t suppress the smile that rose to your lips once the doors closed behind him, immediately knowing the first place you were heading to with your newfound “freedom”.

The kitchen.

Well, that is not exactly the first thing. You had to wait for all the dishes to be cleared from the dining room, so you wandered around the corridors and then headed down the stairs as quietly as possible to not raise any attention to yourself.

As suspected, the kitchen was empty. Most of the food on the plates still untouched. Quietly, you grabbed a basket and began picking things out here and there, those that would go unnoticed by anyone walking in to grab a midnight snack. The only thing that might have caught someone’s attention by going missing was one of the larger bottles of rum stacked on a shelf.

You placed a napkin over the basket's content and grabbed one of the staff member’s hoods to cover yourself up with before heading outside. It would help against the cold night air and hopefully make you a bit less noticeable, as the grey hood did not stand out as much as your extravagant dress. As you took the first steps out into the garden, the idea came to you that maybe that was another idea of them trying to keep you inside these walls. After all, while you had always had nice clothing, it did not compare to the dresses you’ve worn since your return. It could be seen as a welcome home gift, but it was undeniable that the dress you wore now could be spotted from miles away.

You pulled the cloak tighter over yourself.

Besides a few men who were too drunk to notice or care who you were, the streets were also empty. The men standing at the prison doors were half asleep, and either way, you were not too anxious about them as they were usually more preoccupied with keeping people in than out. You slipped through the shadows into the alley and only dared to breathe once inside. The steps leading further into the building were uneven, especially in the dark. The only light was half-burned-up torches lining the path. A crinkly small corridor that eventually led to a crooked staircase. You could barely keep yourself up straight, almost tripping over your feet. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, where the dungeon's entrance stood, took almost longer than the walk to the building across town as you held onto the cold wall, doing your best not to fall.

Now, you could only pray that the final door was not locked. The handle wiggled and creaked open.

You hesitated. What would await you inside? This whole trek had been based on your intuition that he would be put in one of the isolated cells, away from the petty criminals. But what if they kept him somewhere else? What if they had done something to him and… well, there was only one way to find out.

As you stepped into the caved-out room and almost instantaneously, never before had you felt such a cold fall over you. Maybe it was due to the thick walls absorbing all sound or how the slit-like windows below the ceiling only let through the tiniest slivers of moonlight, obstructing any of the day’s heat from entering the room. Or maybe it was the sight of him in the pale torchlight that chilled you to the bone.

He was seated on the ground, framed by a cell jagged from rock and steel bars. The moonlight managed to just about frame his face, exhausted and fragile. His eyes were closed in pretend sleep. You could tell that much as his brows furrowed at the sound of your footsteps. You tried to call out to him, but your throat was stuck. But you didn’t need to say anything. He called your name in a weak voice, in a hesitant manner, as if he was making sure that what he saw was real. If you were really there.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked in disbelief.

What were you doing here? You had been asking yourself this the entire walk up to the cells, trying to find a reason why it meant so much to you to see him again, to help him, and yet you still could not come up with anything. There was no response besides holding up the basket with a weak smile and saying, ‘I thought you would like some dinner.’

Eddie sat straight, pulling himself up by one of the cell bars. As you walked up to his cell and sat down on the ground beside him, you could feel his eyes on you. Pure disbelief at your presence, the food. You held the meat out to him, but he did not move.

‘It is not poisoned,’ you smiled sheepishly, ‘if that is what you’re wondering.’ Even when you handed him the food to eat. He did so slowly, apprehensively at first, still unable to look away from you. Perfectly understandable. You had barely gotten used to this. How the beading and frame of the dress poked at you from every angle. Your feet hurt, and your hair had been pulled into an intricate hairstyle, causing you to walk around with a headache for hours. Not that it was anything to compare to Eddie’s circumstances. He sat in his cell, too small to stretch his body out in, with no bed, just the cold hard ground. They had removed his jacket and belt, leaving him to sit out the cold of the night in just his shirt. You also noticed a new bruise forming on his jaw, which certainly had not been there when you last saw him. All this to break him down, yet the way he looked at you—you could have sworn you were still lying together in his bed, far away from all this.

He glanced down at your dress, how it pooled around you, almost leaking through the cell barriers up to him in all its opulence. ‘How the tables have turners, haven’t they, princess,’ he chuckled, and you had never thought to be so happy from hearing such a simple sound. The nickname felt deliberately chosen at this time, too. You pulled at the edges of your dress, collecting it closer to you.

‘I know, I look ridiculous.’

‘I think the word you’re looking for is beautiful,’ he said between bites, but you ignored the compliment, knowing that if you let it get to you, it would come together with a shower of tears. As he kept on eating his food, you sighed, letting your side hit the wall as you leaned up to him. You handed him more of the food that you had brought him and the rum, then let him finish in silence. His mere presence beside you already was more than enough. The sound of his deep calm breaths was enough to put you to rest, and it pleased you that the sea had not left him just yet. He still smelled of it. That fresh sea salt air was simply stuck in his hair. You refrained from combing your fingers through it.

This was already so far from what you had expected things to go like. You had thought that once you came home, even with his request for a hefty payment, he would still be welcomed as a hero. That you could make things work and somehow, maybe, naively, be together. Even now, you thought that if he saw you here, you would have some kind of moment of clarity where everything became crystal clear and easy to understand. That you would know exactly what to do, and it would be glorious. You thought he would be happy to see you. Never had you imagined him asking you again, ‘What are you doing here? Really.’

‘I wanted to see you,’ you said, but he could read past all your layers. ‘And… over the past few days, I have heard things. About you. Things that I can hardly believe to be true and yet are seen as such by the majority of people, so I hoped you could clear some things up for me.’

‘You don’t believe your own people but would believe me?’ He took a swig of the rum, already handing it back to you, but you declined, giving it back.

‘I have given you my trust more times than I should have, and so far, it has not led me down any dark paths, but I can only hope that you will not break that bond now.’ After all that you had been through? Was he in any position to do so? ‘So I hope you will tell me what really happened. I—I remember you, years ago, meeting with my father and Carver. You were in the military, right?’

Eddie let his head roll back, hitting the wall behind him with a shallow thud. ‘You remember me?’

‘It came to me during the storm. A memory of you walking with them in the garden. For the longest time, I could not make sense if it had been real or if my mind playing tricks on me, but I realised now what it was. You looked different, but it was you, wasn’t it? You were like them?’

‘Turns out, maybe I still am, and more than you’d think,’ he sighed, ‘or less, depending on how you look at it.’ He took another sip of the drink.

‘Will you tell me, please?’ You pleaded, eagerly awaiting the answers to what you had been trying to figure out long before you had returned home. Eddie looked apprehensive.

‘What good will it do?’ He turned his head in your direction, still leaning against the wall. You moved over to be closer to him, your legs almost touching.

‘Perhaps nothing, but—’ you sighed, ‘All my life, I’ve been protected. I’ve had everything handed to me without any trouble. I had spend most of my years never further away than these shores and always under someone’s watch. I had never had the space to make risks or mistakes. There was no such thing as danger. Even now, I had been under constant watch. No one will answer my questions or even listen to me because they want to protect me. Because they think I’m fragile and cannot handle it.’

At this, Eddie scoffed. ‘If anything, they cannot handle you, darling.’

‘Meanwhile, you,’ you smiled, ignoring the heat burning over your cheeks, ‘Well, perhaps not all your methods were ideal, but you never treated me like I was made of glass. You pushed me, and it actually, for once, made me feel alive and like I am worth being in the room with.’

Eddie reached for your hand. ‘You’re worth so much more than that,’ he mumbled against your knuckled as he kissed them. He held on to you as he began talking slowly, choosing his words wisely. ‘I had joined the navy younger than anyone should have—my parents couldn’t afford me, so I had to make myself useful quickly, and that felt at least somewhat commendable, no matter how it would end.

‘Started right at the bottom, but I wanted to prove myself. I followed orders, did everything what was asked of me, and more, and I moved through the ranks. As I gained more of a position, I got more of an insight into the men I was working for and with.’

As he spoke, you watched his eyes pale, haze over with memories. The dam he had built around them had broken up, flooding out, and he could not stop it anymore. He wanted to continue, but he hesitated, glancing your way, but you encouraged him to go on with a nod of the head. Even then, he scratched at his face nervously and took a deep breath.

‘We would find ourselves everywhere around the world, and a certain power comes with wearing a uniform. It is universal, one that everyone understands and is willing to abuse. It was easy to see yourself as better than the poor locals, to excuse yourself from the import taxes and all the bureaucracy around the travel. I had done it myself, flashing a grin with the mindset of superiority.’ He hid his face in his hands, groaning. You reached out for his arm.

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ you hushed, but was it really?

‘When you get that taste of power when it hits right, it is hard to let go. It had never sat well with me; every time I got away from a port without paying for my ship, I stayed up entire nights as the guilt ate away from me, but it had been what everyone else was doing, and you don’t want to fall behind. It had become a pressure to boast your power over those who did not have any.

‘And this power…. it turned darker as simple actions of business turned to abuse. Swindling merchants of their products, conning drunks with games, and stealing their money. Taking advantage of… everyone. It had become a sport to them.

‘I was aware of it, but it had somehow never seemed that serious—it happened so gradually—until one day I saw one of the commanders with this girl…’ his breath hitched. You squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there, that you were listening. ‘She was just a child, and when I saw what he—I lost control of myself, lashed out at him. It had been stupid trying to argue with someone that outranked me. There was no one I could tell that would do anything about it, not when they were all just as bad.

‘Then Carver came up to me one day. Said that together we could make a change.’ Eddie’s jaw clenched. ‘I should have known better. He had always been too close with the rest of them, but we planned on making a change.

‘But on the day we were about to tell your father about everything that happened on our voyages—the day we saw each other in the garden, in fact,’ he squeezed your hand back. ‘We never got the chance because I was sent away.’ Something in you caught your breath, making him smile lightly.

‘There had been talk of a war, and so I was sent out with a fleet to take charge. Carver had promised me he would take care of everything in my absence, but—’

‘He didn’t,’ you finished the sentence for him.

‘In a way, he did. Of course, it was all a hoax. He had needed an excuse to get rid of me. It took me three months to get back, having found no signs of possible ambushes, and when I did, I returned to the news that Hargrove, the commander I had attacked, had been found dead that same evening I left. And there was the missing gold and the rumours of a coup, among other things. Somehow, he had convinced everyone I had gone above and beyond in betraying our country, but the murder charges hit the heaviest. They thought I had killed one of our own.

‘The only people on my side had been those on the ship with me, and they had given up all they had by giving me their trust. They were marked as traitors just for standing up against the accusations. I already had lost everything I had to lose and could not stand by it, so I left. I took my ship and my crew, and we sailed off.

Bowman’s words rang through your mind as Eddie said this. Deserter. Runagate. Quisling. Traitor. You still wanted to ask him so much, but you let him speak before interrupting.

‘The sea was a liberation. We were free to do whatever we wanted, so we did, but I always felt like I was tied back to this place. Like…’ he laughed, ‘like a rope was hanging around my neck, dragging me back here. At first, I thought it was guilt, so I did my best to reprimand everything they had done. I wanted to do something for all those men and women we had hurt, give them some form of protection against those uniforms.

‘But no matter what I did, who I helped, that feeling did not stop. In a way, it grew worse. I got angry and felt like the only thing that would help me was revenge; I stayed up most nights thinking of unimaginable things. I got lost in the darkness of it. If it wasn’t for Harrington, I don’t know what would have become of me.’

‘Harrington?’ You could see how that would happen, but the mention of him somehow startled you. It's another piece of the story that made it feel so real.

‘He had been in a similar position as me. His commanding officer had been asking him to do all these dirty jobs until he had had enough. It had only been a couple of days since he had given up his post when we met one night at a tavern. He wouldn't have joined us if it had not been for a game of cards. Neither would have Robin.’

You had no idea how long you had sat there, just enough for your body to grow cold and stiff on the ground, but you could not care less about any of that, too focused on his story. As he mentioned Steve and Robin, his smile reached his eyes for the first time since you had arrived, revitalising you, knowing that there was still something in his life that left fond memories behind. You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you listened on.

‘Either way, I had fallen into a deep, dark pit, and Steve pulled me out. He showed me what I was doing did no good for anyone but them. It was eating me alive, killing me from the inside.’

‘But you still killed them all.’ The words left your mouth sooner than you could think them through. Knowing his reason behind it all made you understand, but it did not lessen the impact of the deed.

Hearing you say that, Eddie quickly turned his entire body to you, pulling himself as close to you as possible, almost pushing himself through the bars. His eyes were full of an intensity that burned through your soul.

‘I am not trying to make excuses. I did what I did—I led my crew towards the Red Tail and let them sink that ship, but not for myself. That is what Harrington made me realise. I did not need to see them die, but they needed to pay for everything they had done. For ruining all those people’s lives. You must understand that?’

He didn’t need to see them die. Moments flashed before you of your very first seconds on the Hellfire. Of Eddie walking up to you, the words he spoke in front of you.

– Carver? Where is that pesky little bilge rat?

– Bled out on the ship.

– Shame. Would have like to have seen that. ‘You weren’t even there.’ you whispered.

‘It wasn’t about me.’ He shook his head. ‘Besides, if I had been the one to kill them, it would have only satisfied them. To see me become what they had told the world I already was. All I wanted was for them to be gone. Just gone.

‘None of this,’ his eyes darted over your face. ‘Was meant to happen to you. My men were simply looking for the things in the office that had already been stolen. But then they saw you under that table, they couldn’t leave you. You were innocent.’ His hand reached out to brush over your cheek. Only at his touch did you realise that you had started to cry as he wiped down your tears. ‘And to you, I am truly sorry for everything I put you through.’

You had nothing to reply with but a kiss, pulling him close to you. The steel bars of the cell caused an awkward distance between you, yet you never felt closer. It was as if now, you finally, truly, knew who it was you were touching. The kiss had been brief, but the silence that followed stretched on. The two of you sat there, sinking away from reality, but the questions you still had kept you grounded. Just as Eddie had said, a noose dragging you back.

‘Eddie,’ you called him carefully. ‘What about the letter?’

‘What letter, princess.’ His hand kept rubbing over your tear-stained cheek.

‘You know which one I mean,’ you pulled back slightly to be able to look properly at him. ‘Who was it for?’

He laughed, the saddest laugh you had ever heard come from him, and it pained you from within. ‘What does all this matter? I will be dead soon. The less there is left of me here, the better.’

You watched him pull himself up again to sit, tap his knuckles on his knee. His answer had angered you. ‘Because…’ you took a deep breath, taking the leap you had been too afraid to take. ‘it just gives me that much less time to know the man I have fallen in love with.’ You wanted to keep as much of him as possible. That is what you could do by listening. To give him that voice in his own story.

Eddie fell silent. His mouth opened to speak, but no voice came out for several tries. He searched for the right words until he finally blinked slowly and looked up at the ceiling. His jaw clenched once again, in the way that he sucked in a deep breath. As he released it, he said: ‘Her name was Christina.’

‘Your wife?’ Again, you thought of what he had told you earlier. I already had lost everything I had to lose. He must have had people who cared for him before all this had happened.

‘Fiancée,’ he corrected, not that it mattered to either of you. ‘We had known each other our whole lives, having grown up on the same streets. We kept each other strong with this promise that one-day things would get better. That we would escape from all the burdens and create our own paradise. She was the reason I—’ he couldn’t speak of it out loud, and you didn’t need him to. You didn’t tell him to continue the story when he eventually did.

‘Foolishly, I had not told her anything of what went on. I told her things would finally be good for us when I returned. We would leave and never turn back. I thought I was protecting her by keeping it all from her, but it was the final nail in my coffin.

‘She had been the first person I saw after my return, and I could sense that something was wrong. Then the guards knocked on the door, and she opened it like she had been expecting them.

‘I could only assume it was Carver. That he told her what he told everyone else. She wouldn’t look at me, touch me, speak to me. No matter how hard I tried to prove myself, he had poisoned her with his words. In the end, she only saw me as a monster.’

The last word stung you in your chest, knowing how often you had used that exact word to describe him yourself. How often have you called him a monster or even worse? But his openness triggered more memories to come up. Your conversations with the crew of the Red Tail. Their stories and lives.

‘Christina…’ you mumbled the name with familiarity. ‘That was… that was the name of the admiral’s wife.’

‘It does not come to me as a surprise,’ he chuckled that sad laugh again. He had clearly expected to hear those words eventually. You looked at him, feeling the sting in the corners of your eyes. The tears were coming right back, but he quickly wiped those too. ‘Please, don’t. I do not need your pity. I have told you everything there is to know about me, and that is all I could or ever will ask of you again.’

‘I don’t—’ you wanted to speak, but he quickly went on. As he held your face in his hands, his thumb brushed over your lips,

‘And I will cherish these moments, every second I spent with you, until my last breath. I will think of you as the sun sets, I promise you.’

‘What—what are you talking about?’ your voice choked between sobs.

‘I never expected you to come here,’ he kissed you, passing all the feelings he had voiced earlier over to you with the touch of his lips, ‘but don’t come here again.’

‘What? No!’ You pushed yourself away. This wasn’t the plan. You were going to help him. You were going to get him out of here. As you got up to your feet, so did he, reaching for your hand again.

‘Listen to me.’ he gritted his teeth in desperation. ‘There is no way out of here, and it will only get worse for me.’ As he said so, your eyes flashed back to the bruise on his pale skin. ‘I do not want you to see me like that. Let this be where we say our goodbyes.’ He held your hand, finger over your knuckles, soothingly. You hated that he was comforting you at this moment.

‘No,’ you whimpered, head shaking. You turned your hand around in his to grab onto his fingers. One of his skull rings slowly began to slide off, and so you stopped before it dropped.

‘Please,’ he squeezed your hand.

‘No!’ you shouted, not caring if the guards outside could hear you. They might storm inside any second now and drag you out, they could try, but you wouldn’t let them. ‘I won’t let you die.’

‘It’s okay.’ He said. With every sentence he spoke, a new piece of the puzzle had been allotted to its place, but the final picture still blurred before your mind. It only seemed like even more gaps needed to be filled in, but it was slowly coming together, and when it did… You wanted to cry out.

Eddie held you as best as he could through his restraints, the faintest smile painted over his lips.

‘You knew, didn’t you?’ you stood there, defeated. ‘That if you would come back here with me, that this would happen. You knew you would be arrested and hanged.’

‘At least now I truly deserve it.’ All the crimes he committed at sea trying to help others, what he had let happen to the Red Tail. ‘So, please, just go. I promise, it will be alright.’

You wanted to scream at him. Hit him, punch him, and much more for all of this. You wanted him to hurt as much as you did as he told you to leave, but in reality, you doubted anything you could do to him would match even half of the pain you felt as you stood there. You wanted him to hurt, but all you could do was take one last step forward and pull him in to kiss you.

When you left, you could still feel him on your lips. That feeling let you move step by step out onto the street. Everything else felt not quite right, not quite real. You walked mindlessly across the empty market, barely aware of your surroundings, until you suddenly stood in front of your room door. You dropped the empty basket at your side and practically floated onto the bed.

It was late; you had no idea what time exactly, but too late for anyone to help you get out of that corset. You lay on the bed, now unable to get up, unwilling to move even if you could, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe you never stopped staring or fell into a slumber, but the next morning you still lay on your back, barely changing position over the early morning hours.

You sat in your room, looking at the tide coming and going, pushing the sand and the rocks through the hours. The hours blurred; days became night, and the moon turned into the sun. The following two days passed, and you spend them in silent disbelief and confusion, just fighting to not return to the prison cell.

There must be something you could do. People you could convince or pay or bribe in any other way to not let the execution take place. Help him escape.

This could not be the end.

But Eddie had made his final wish clear. You were not to see him again, and what could you do when no one would listen to you? When everyone on the island had his mind set on what Eddie was? You were paralysed with helplessness, and no matter what you tried to do or what to think about, it just would not go away. It grew inside you, impossible to ever leave you again, and you were slowly making peace with that. Your own price to pay for not being able to do anything for him when he truly needed it.

Even when you arrived at the square, which was filling up with an audience hours before the event, were you trying to look for escape routes, but the more people arrived, the more challenging a wall they created to penetrate. You would never be able to run through it, but you thought of it. Holding his hand, never looking back.

The sun that afternoon was flaming hot, burning through all the layers of your dress that pinned into your ribs as you sat down. The governing families got the best seats on the raised platform in the house, with plush chairs to wait on while everything was prepared. There was only the cool breeze of your fan to cool you down, but it did nothing on your nerves. They burned within just as much as the sun's rays.

You had not been sure if coming was a good choice or if you were prepared to witness Eddie’s death, but your absence would surely be questioned and… and you could not pass on the ever last possibility of seeing him. The dubiety ran through you with a threat of tears.

But more and more people came around to see, and you traced each face to find someone who could help you. Someone on your side. A familiar ally, but no luck. They were all prepared to see a man die tonight. The mumbling amongst them turned into chatter, and the conversations of local gossip turned to absolute mudslinging.

‘I heard he has killed over a thousand men with his bare hands.’

‘Well, I heard he had planned on taking over the army in order to become the next king!’

‘And I heard—’

‘I heard—’

I heard… One thing after the other, each one worse than the last. Could they not see this? All of it nothing but hearsay. They were putting a man on death row for things overheard at the market. Of course, no one would listen if you were to say this.

The sky slowly turned a warm orange, glowing on the buildings like a soft fire. The bell in the church tower struck seven times, half through instinct and half through custom, people’s heads turned in one direction. All but yours because as they all looked at the procession—the court man carrying a large scroll of parchment, followed by the executioner, who pulled the chains that were locked around Eddie’s wrists and the two guardsmen behind him, weapons at the ready—you stared ahead at the gallows. The rope hanging on it looked short and could only mean one thing.

A slow and painful death.

The clanking of the shackles echoed through the entire square with each step Eddie took. He was barely visible through the crowd, but the length of the executioner in front of him ensured everyone could follow the death march.

Eddie looked ill—pale and fragile. His steps were shaking, not improved at all by the heavy chains that pulled him forward. He stumbled around up the stairs to the gallow. You could see his eyes look up in fearful amazement at the construction of the gibbet. His Adam’s apple choked up and down, and then his eyes caught sight of you.

Everything began to move at a slowed-down pace.

He must not have expected you to come or hoped you wouldn’t because the brave and confident facade cracked for the tiniest moment. The sadness dominated his features for a glimpse of time, but it was all you could see. Too occupied by his view, he had missed his call to step up. The hangman shouted something from underneath his black hood, kicking Eddie forward. You flinched as Eddie kept his balance not to fall to the floor. You couldn’t do this. You could not watch this go down, but you did not want to leave him behind. Not ever. This could not be the end.

The court man stepped forward, unscrolling his parchment as he cleared his throat. It was enough for the people below, standing on the pavement, in the shadows of the buildings, on the balconies, to quiet down and listen as he read:

‘On this day,’ his voice carried through the entire square, ‘we bear witness to the punishment of Edward Munson, pirate, for his admitted crimes of theft, perjury, extortion, abduction, desertion, high treason and murder, sentencing him to death as decided by the governing council.

‘He shall hang here for God to give his final judgement and remain a reminder for any wrong-doers and sinners to come!’

You glanced at your father, who sat by untouched. Was Eddie’s body here to stay forever? You could not imagine having to walk around this town every day just to see his body be taken by the elements.

The sun was nearly at the horizon, shining bright at all of you, its heat still heating your skin.

The people cheered as the rope was put around Eddie’s neck, who waved to them as if they were not cheering on his demise. One hand pulling the other up, making the chain between them clink. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and it astonished you to see that he managed to stay his entertaining self even now. Always playing a role for the other man. Here to entertain. To provoke. To distract.

But the smile faded, body stiffened as the noose was pulled taut.

‘That’s a bit tight,’ Eddie commented, and in response to that, the hooded man pulled it even tighter. It dug into his skin. He looked down at where the floor would soon disappear from underneath him, then up at the sky and with a slight choke, he spoke out his final words, embellished by the last spark of his life:

‘To reign is worth ambition though in hell: Better to reign in hell, then serve in heaven.’

People gasped, mumbling amongst each other once more until hushed to silence by the hangman walking up to the lever that would set everything into motion. As Eddie took his final breath, everyone held theirs in anticipation. Your hands were shaking; every breath you took felt like a betrayal to him and like a stab in your lungs. Your fan moved faster, the small gushes of wind barely doing anything to cool down your face. This could not be the end. Not this. Not now. It couldn’t be—

The arm was pulled, and it was as if it had removed the ground from underneath your feet; that’s how deep the drop in your stomach was as you saw Eddie fall. It was as much as you could bear seeing before you turned around, hiding your face in your hands, hiding your tears from everyone else.

When hanging a person, two types of noose could be used. With the longer drop, the fall's impact would cause the neck to break and bring instant death. The shorter rope prolongs the act of dying as the rope digs into their throat, cutting off their air. During this, the square is filled with the sound of choked gasps, encouraged by the hundreds of onlookers.

If you had been one of them, down there on the ground, with easy access to the podium, you would have stormed it. Cut the rope loose. But you sat on the balcony, surrounded by your father and the other gentlemen and guards, unable to move anywhere. So you could only hope that there would be someone to do what you wanted to do. That someone would show up and save him like you wish you could. But when no one came, and his strangled groans became more sporadic, you had had enough. You couldn’t do this. You could not sit by and watch or even listen to what was happening before you.

Your father’s call of your name was muffled by the public, and your own internal screams as you ran out. Arms reached for you, but you pushed past them all. As soon as you were out of everyone’s sight, the tears started to flow, and they would not stop no matter how far you ran. And you wanted to run as far away as possible, as far away as your legs could take you. Off this island, away from these people. Yet, you eventually carried yourself back to the square. Each step made you dizzy through the corridors and down the stairs, but you could not stand still.

You had thought you were faster, but as soon as you pushed the heavy doors open and saw the stream of people walking away, the truth sank into your bones. You pushed your way past the crowd back to the open marketplace. As soon as it was done, people lost interest and continued with their evenings as if nothing had happened, ready for whatever next was to come eventually. By the time you reached the foot of the gallow, there was practically no one else around you.

The sun was saying its goodbyes, and his body was a dark shadow across the obscuring sky, hanging limp, still swinging from side to side but with every second coming closer to its final halt. Something about the movements looked so serene that you could not come to terms with that this was really it. Just like that… he was gone, but it happened so quickly, so easily. Too quickly.

You stood in front of him as the last people left, and the sun disappeared at the end of the world until the real darkness fell upon you, and your tears finally dried out until your throat screamed for water and air, and you could barely stand up straight.

This could not be the end.

And you were one of the first people to hear of it.

First, there was the prickling of the fire in the reading room, the flipping of the pages as you stared ahead at the words of the book, making yourself seem present in the room as your father sat by. Then there were the rushed footsteps in the hallway. The hushed whispers of hesitance behind the closed door as the men contemplated what to do. A creak of the door as they walked inside towards your father and leaned in to whisper so you would not hear what they had to say.

But the room was so quiet, you heard it quite clearly.

‘Sir, there is an…a problem.’

‘What is the matter?’ Your father, as always, did not find much need to express himself largely, but at the guard's response, his eyes grew wide, and for a moment, the glow of the fire seemed that much cooler.

‘The body…. It’s gone, sir.’

‘What do you mean,’ he composed himself quickly, ‘he is gone? How can that be?’

The guards never looked so small. ‘We do not know sir, but he is. It is like he has disappeared into thin air.’

‘Absurd,’ your father got up, and so did you. Before you got to say a word or take a step forward, he quickly stopped you. ‘You stay here.’

‘Absolutely not.’ Was all you replied as you rushed out of the room ahead of anyone else.

You had already made your peace with never stepping a foot inside the town square ever again, not if you would have to be reminded of that afternoon, of everything that happened in the last months, but as you walked back up to it, you could not have been happier that you had returned.

Only the rope left was where his body had hung and where it had meant to hang for days to come. Its perfectly knotted noose swayed like he had the last time you saw him.

Everyone else was right behind you, but just before they reached the platform with you, you noticed something in the corner of your eye. A shine against the moonlight on the wooden beams. You could just barely reach it, but with a stretch of the arm, your fingertips just about managed to get a grip on it. Before you could look at it, you heard your father shout orders at the guards, making them search everywhere in the nearby surroundings. Maybe whoever had taken the body was still somewhere nearby.

Whoever took it… was that what happened? Before you could look around for more signs that could clarify the situation, you were called to return back home. It would do little good to argue now, so you followed the guard tasked with escorting you to your room. Only when he closed your door and you sat down at your drawing desk that you opened your fist to reveal what it was you had found beneath the rope.

The pair of hollowed-out eyes of the skull ring stared back at you. There was no possible way for you to know what this meant if it even meant something, but you couldn’t help but smile. The ring was loose on your finger, but you kept it on.

This could not be the end of Captain Eddie Munson.

It wasn’t.

For most people, he lived on as a ghost story, and as you had learned from a very young age, dead men tell no tales. The living pass their stories around, mouth to mouth, page to page. Blurring the truth with their urgency for clarity, they try to make sense of things they cannot understand. Secrets become myths and legends that barely resemble the truth.

In most cases, it takes years, decades, if not centuries, but here, on this small island, the conversations on the street already trickled with gossip and rumours the following morning.

I did not want to believe it, but it must be true, what they say. He did sell his soul to the devil! And it came to retrieve his body.

I told you! It is useless to try and kill the unkillable! No, did you not hear what he had said? “Better to reign in hell!” But he is the devil incarnate!

Well, I’m surprised they caught him in the first place! Why he must be a ghost. The lot of them on that wicked ship. All cursed, and now he will return to haunt us for the rest of our lives!

Who was to say out of all of them what happened on that square once darkness fell? No one was there to see it or tell the truth, as all who could had long left the island.

They left at night, days after everything went down after the search for Eddie’s missing body had been called off, “officially” said to have been stolen but never confirmed. Those who knew what happened to it stayed in hiding until it was safe to come out until all suspicions were blurred with the gossip and basically forgotten. Quietly, they ran to the harbour, unseen by anyone, swift as the wind.

Unnoticed by anyone…but you.

Like most of the nights, unable to fall asleep, you had been looking out your window out at the harbour and the sea. The ships that calmly stood anchored there and the waves that pushed against them. Slowly, they put you to sleep, and so at first, you thought it was just a blur of your tired gaze, the dark spot in the far distance. It wasn’t a ship. And there, on the shore, there were no people preparing a boat. Not this late…

You rubbed your eyes, trying to better understand what they were doing. Packing in a hurry, throwing things into the bottom of the rowboat. As you watched, you told yourself that it was just the exhaustion speaking, that you were fooling yourself with this hope, but you could not let the chance pass you by.

You left your room without bothering to put anything on over your nightgown. Quietly to not gain any attention, but still as quickly as you could manage. Who knew how much time you had left before they would leave? Then once out of the house, you ran as fast as you could. The past few days, it felt like it had been all you had been doing, running to and from things, running after something without even knowing what you were looking for, but now you knew. You ran until your lungs began to burn from the warm and dry air. Until your feet were ready to give in and until you reached the sandy beach.

As much as you wanted to scream and shout, you kept quiet. You walked carefully up to the two figures at the shore until they noticed you next to them. It happened when you were only a few feet away; they heard the scuffle of your feet or your shaky breath and pulled their guns out. They were ready to shoot, but the second they needed to notice you in the dark saved your life. That is when you locked eyes with the man in front of you.

‘Eddie?’ you cried. Before he could say anything, you took the final few steps and closed the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. Just to know it was real. Just to make sure you had not gone completely mad. You pressed yourself against every inch of him that you could.

With the need for air, you pulled back, and instinctually, your palm met the side of his face. ‘How? I saw you—’ You both breathed heavily, chests raising drastically as he turned back to face you with a smile and press his lips against yours again. Like the last pieces of the puzzle, his hands fit on your body perfectly.

Then he pulled you apart, with his hands on your face, wiping away the tears that had formed along the way. ‘I know,’ he whispered, but the words were so close you could feel them. You could feel him. Just the feeling of his fingertips on your cheeks assured you that this was real and that it was really him. ‘And I’m so sorry.’

‘But why?’ You were trembling in his arms.

‘I had realised very early on that the only way to truly escape this place was to die,’ he smiled the smile you thought you would never see again, ‘but, well, I was not ready for that just yet.’

‘But I saw you— I watched it all happen there—how did you—’ his being broke you. You could not stop staring at the man in front of you. At all the little knicks and cracks in his skin. The fading bruises, the scars, and the long red gash along his neck that proved everything that much more.

‘I told you everything would be alright, didn’t I?’ And he never broke his promise. But still, as the truth settled in around you, it opened up a space for a new kind of hurt.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why let me believe that you were gone?’

‘It was the one thing that actually killed me, believe me,’ he pushed the loose hair out of your face, ‘but I needed you to believe it like anyone else. If you believed it—it would make everything so much easier.’

You wanted to ask him what on earth that was supposed to mean, but that is when you remembered the boat at his side. And when you noticed Steve waiting impatiently behind him, the oar already in his hand.

‘You’re leaving.’ It wasn’t a question. Of course, he was. He couldn’t hide here forever. Out there, in the waters, he would be genuinely free.

‘It’s all for the best, and with me gone for good, you could live on; move on,’ he said somberly.

‘Do you think I could forget about you that easily?’ Your fist had clamped onto the material of his shirt. ‘Do you really think I think so little of you? That I had not spend every minute of the past days mourning you? Missing you?’ and now you had him… just to lose him again.

‘But it would all pass. You can find someone else, someone better, and be happy.’ He looked down at your hand to see the ring you had kept on your finger for the past few days. He kissed his ring and then looked back up at you. ‘Let me go, darling.’

‘No,’ you shook your head, much like you had in the dungeon, but this time, you were more adamant this time than ever. ‘I won’t let you. Not this time.’

He mumbled your name, trying to argue, but you were ready with a rebuttal before he even said anything.

‘I do not want to spend another day without you. Not if I know you are somewhere out there—’ you had been looking at the ring too, but then looked at him again as an idea formed in your brain. ‘Take me with you.’

‘I can’t do that,’ his smile was airy and light but filled with regret. ‘You belong here.’

‘No, I don’t. Remember what I told you when I came to see you?’ You pleaded with him. ‘Do you remember?’ You pushed the words out when he didn’t say anything.

‘Yes.’

‘So, please, don’t leave me. Not again.’ At this point, you punched every word into his chest weakly as you began to cry again, and he let you. Then, when you were finally done, he held you, telling Steve off when he tried to put this to an end, even though he was right. There wasn’t much time left. The sun would come up soon again, and people would awake and see you, and it would all have been for nothing.

‘I wish I could give you the world, darling,’ he said, ‘I call you a princess, but we both know you should be treated as a queen and get anything you ask for, but I can’t do that for you. I am not the man you should be with.’ He kissed the top of your head. ‘Please, forgive me.’ And with that, he let you go.

You had let him do many things in the past, but not this time.

‘Well, I don’t forgive you.’ He had already turned around to get to the boat, but you just stepped past him, stunning him and poor Steve, as you got in. ‘If you wanted the easy way out, Munson, you should have thought twice about who to kidnap.’

The two men looked bewildered momentarily, too stunned to respond, but Steve was the first to respond. ‘She’s right,’ and he followed you in. The boat rocked from side to side. You sighed as you looked at Eddie as he stood in the sand.

‘I’m not scared, Eddie.’ you reached out your hand to him. ‘I want this.’ You wanted him. You wanted this life with him. You wanted to travel the world and have a life of adventures. You wanted to be free.

Eddie looked at you, still in apparent shock at your sudden assertion. You might have thought you had changed so much, but he still saw the same stubborn woman as that cursed day when you were hauled aboard his ship. On the contrary, he had been the one that changed, and he realised that as he cursed himself there on that beach. He knew he might come to regret this, but he thought he had regretted most of his choices, most of what he had done in the past months, and yet, he could not have been happier with where his life had led him, as it all led him to you. So, he took your hand and pulled himself into the boat.

You dropped the weights that had kept you anchored and made your way out into the sea where the Hellfire lay by patiently, waiting for her Captain and his Princess—despite what their titles actually may be—to return home.

The End.

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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starmocha · 19 days ago

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HELLO I've read a few comments here and there implying current Sylus /wants/ to die? That resonating with MC will kill him and thats why hes so adamant that she do it? Is that interpretation even kind of accurate?

I hope its ok to ask this, I'm still new to lads and trying to piece together more Sylus lore before I personally dive into the angst of his new myth. ;w;

I'm always happy to answer questions if I can! This is absolutely OK 😊

OK, I can see how other people have interpreted it that way after reading the myth, and my answer may lean a little in that direction (however I disagree with the resonance part - MC's resonance Evol is meant to support others' Evol, not kill them), but I feel it is more nuanced than a simple yes or no answer.

This interpretation you see definitely stemmed from the myth, so I don't know how comfortable you are with spoilers (and I also don't want others to get spoiled while scrolling on their dash), so I will leave a more detailed response under the cut that will include caps as well, and you can decide to read it now or come back later after you finish the myth. 🙂 (I suggest the latter. This explanation will tie directly with the ending, and I don't want you to get spoiled. 😭)

(btw, prior to the myth release, I did search through most of Sylus' main story and memories for any references to his past, feel free to go through this tag if you're looking for Sylus lores!)

SPOILERS FOR SYLUS' MYTH - BEYOND CLOUDFALL & MAIN STORY

At the end of the myth, after Sylus had died from his injuries, MC, in her grief, cursed Sylus' soul to never fade away and always be tied to her. He can never die by any other means, and only she can grant him a true death.

In my Things That Fucked Me Up post, I did make an allusion to the main story about Sylus wanting MC to shoot him.

In the main story, MC threatens to kill him, and originally in the scene, it seemed like Sylus is calling her bluff by procuring a gun for her. Prior to the myth, there's been many allusions to Sylus not being able to die, and now we know why. With the revelation of his curse, this scene takes on a whole new light.

Prior to the myth, we had assumed that he knew he couldn't die so he called her bluff.

However, now that we know he can only die by her hands, this scene is a lot darker and seems to portray him as suicidal. We don't know how long this Sylus has been alive for. He could very well be hundreds or even thousands of years old, we can't verify for sure as of now. At the very least, we can assume he had lived for far too long. This could very well be the trope of immortals living for so long that they are now death seekers wishing for peace.

The only reason Sylus didn't die in this scene is 1) he forced her to pull the trigger and 2) MC does yell out "no" in the scene.

The condition for his death is that she must willingly want to grant him his death (note: this does not mean that she needs to be filled with hatred. Mercy killing is a possibility.)

As for the resonance part: In the myth, while Sylus and MC was resonating in one of the last scenes, Sylus had her hand over his chest and the claymore that was inside her was summoned against her will and pierced him in the chest. People are probably theorizing this based on this scene.

I disagree that resonating will kill him. In the storyline, MC's resonance Evol is meant to support/enhance others' Evols. Her Evol can also, on occasions, heal others (Zayne in his branch story, and I think Raf, too but I haven't gotten around to reading it yet shhhhh).

Don't forget that when we're battling in-game, our resonance Evol helps us take down wanderers, so I don't believe it is a means that will kill Sylus. As of now, we just don't know why he is adamant about needing to resonate with her.

I do agree that main story Sylus may be leaning a little on the suicidal part, but more in terms of being tired of living for so long. While he can't die, he does still feel pain if he is injured, but other than that, he is pretty much indestructible.

Sylus has also accumulated vast wealth, infamously known, powerful...I imagine he feels there is nothing worth living for (until now with MC 🤭), so death is what he desires now. This is my opinion, though, so don't take it as fact. We've only had two parts of the main story with Sylus, so there is plenty more to be discovered about his character in the future 🙂‍↕️

I hope this read offered some insight and perspective on this topic! Feel free to ask me to verify anything or ask anything else on your mind 🙂 (anyone else reading, also feel free to chime in with your thoughts or counter anything I said. 🙂‍↕️💖)

#x — 💌#anonymous #lads — beyond cloudfall #lads — long-awaited revelry #lnds spoilers #lads spoilers

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justanothervigalanty · 5 months ago

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”you hurt my son!”

name: y/n Wayne

age:(yours)

wanings: r@pe or assault, argument

Role:wife to Bruce Wayne mother to his kids and twin sister to talia al’ghul

you always had a resentment to your elder twin sister she was the favourite and you well you always felt like a waste of space so ran away and met the love of your life Bruce Wayne! He was funny kind and he had a son dick. You loved that kid so much so when he left you were hart broken but soon after Jason came into your life and I think we all know the Jason Todd story and the shit talia put him through. When you found out about one incident in particular you were more pissed than when she had drugged Bruce, even this felt far for her! Talia had r@ped your son…

“What did you say?!” You said walking over to where Jason was standing with Tim. The two had been arguing and Tim said how at least Jason hadn’t been thrown off a building to which Jason responded with “BUT HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING R@PED!?” Jason had tears forming in his eyes as he held his hands to his mouth realising what he had said. “What did you just say Jason!” You said bringing his hands away from his face. “Tim you should go” Bruce said as he came over to ask the exact same thing. Of course Tim left the room to get Alfred and ask for help. Jason had collapsed to the floor you letting go of him not wanting to cross his boundaries. “I-I can’t breathe” you heard him say clutching on to his clothes knees to chests. “Jason? I know you don’t need this right now but I need you to answer my question. What did you say?!” You responded more calm trying to get your son to answer. “Sh-she didn’t l-listen to me s-she just s-she touched me I-i told her to s-stop she d-dint listen!” Jason said trying to breathe. “Who. J who did that” Bruce said holding Jason’s arm. “T-T-Ta”- “TALIA?! (Nod) GOD THAT LITTLE BICH! NO ITS GONE TO FAR NOW!” You yelled standing up getting your motorcycle keys of the table. “Love, calm down we can”- “no you stay with jay I need to go talk to my bich of a sister!”you said before slamming the door.

It was raining poring it down but you didn’t care you needed to find talia and you needed to find her now. You knew that the shadows were all the way in Europe but that didn’t mean talia was. You had heard she had been talking to Damian and you just so happened to know where she had requested to meet him. Her address. So that’s were you went. “Talia!” You said storming in to her sat at her table with two cups of tea out with a cat stuffed animal next to her. “Hello dear little sister i was expecting Damian but i assumed he sent you to collect his cat toy from last week” she said tacking a sip of her tea “please do come sit” she asked gesturing to the seat opposite he that you sat at. “So what brings you here darling sister can my son not make it this afternoon?” She asked so casually as if she even had the right to be visiting Damian behind the courts back?! “You lost all parental control over Damian last month, by law me and Bruce are his only legal parents you are well aware of that fact talia” you practically hissed at her “so what brings you here?” She questioned “my son” you decided as you sat up straight. “You’ll have to elaborate, after marrying Bruce didn’t you also adopt his sons and daughters also don’t you both have that toddler Tom or was it Tommy?”she laughed “why haven’t you been busy?” She smiled stering her cup of tea “it’s Thomas, tommy is just a pet name. And I don’t mean him!” You said glaring at her emerald eyes. “Jason, Jason Todd i believe you should remember him.” You said you hand turning into a tight fist “ahh yes J, I remember him rather good with a gun.” She said a bit nervous “you don’t get to call him that! Not after the shit you put him through!” You said trying to stay calm. “Jesus, so I was tuff on the boy. Did I hit him yes but all I did was to help him you must understand that y/n.” She said as if that made her actions any better “oh yeah because that’s all you did to him!” You yelled slamming your fist on the table “I don’t know what you’re talking about so calm down for your sake!” She replied even now she sounded calm “you fucking r@ped him! You assaulted a 15 year old boy! Who happens to be my son!”you yelled tears streaming down you face “all my life you tried to make me miserable you ruined my childhood with your snitch ass atachued, broke my dead mother in law’s Perl necklace that had been a wedding gift from Bruce and the kids oh yeah and you drugged and fucked my husbanded, attempted to kill most of my kids I bet you don’t know half there names! And you fucking r@ped my second eldest and still call him by a pet name!he is back at home hyperventilating right now because of that trauma you gave him! What is wrong with you!” You yelled standing up knocking the chair down o the floor. “The kid isn’t even yours and like I did shit to add to his trama. I’m not the one who let there him die to the joker and if anything I’d be a better wife to bruce I mean it took me a drink and one night to have Damian how long did it take your fertility issues ass to conseev Thomas! Not just one night that’s for sure and how many misscaregis oh yeah 6 and 2 off those were this year!” She yelled back making the tear’s from your eyes keep coming. “That’s enough!” You heard Bruce’s voice say as he walked over to comfort you. “Come on love let’s go.” He said holding his arm around your waist as you both walked out. “Oh and by the way talia I would never even consider leaving my wife for you.” He said “why because I ‘hurt’ one of your little soldiers feelings?” She said mockingly “no because you hurt my son.”he said taking you out to the car.

One the drive back he put his hand on your thigh “you know if you are feeling like you’re ready we could try again for another?” He said jokingly “I think we have enough kids Bruce!” You responded playfully “then why have you been pregnant three times in the past 2 years?” He laughed “because you don’t know what self control is and apparently you keep on forgetting to bye condoms!” You said playfully pushing his arm. “You know I’d choose you and all our little demons over anyone right?”he said kissing you hand. “Then why are you so desperate to add more demons to our lives?” You laughed “well now you’ve just got me in the mood! Thanks a lot!” Bruce said as you started laughing

Note:I do know that Jason enjoyed himself during his and Thalia’s sexual encounter and did kiss her back but keep in mind this was a 15 year old and a neer 30 year old so it would be like a teacher having a relationship with on of there students.

#batman #batmom reader #tim drake wayne #damian wayne #jason todd #talia al ghul #bruce wayne x fem!reader #Jason todd x mom!reader #Tim Drake x mom!reader #Damian Wayne x mom!reader #talia and damian #talia al’ghal x sister!reader #twin sisters

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itjazzbicch · 1 year ago

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Never Happened

Pairing: MKX Erron Black x Reader

First time writing for Erron so I hope I did well! (I'm obsessed with MKX Erron so here we are lol)

Summary: Faking their death, the reader had been in hiding for a long time, only returning to Outworld because of the war between Kotal and Mileena, her motives a mystery to an old friend who discovers her and they both agree that nothing ever happened...

Warnings: Swearing, some flirting, hinted that they used to have an intimate relationship

Word Count: 0.7k

There was inevitably going to be a wild turn of events given Mileena and Kotal were waging war over Outworlds' thrown and what exactly was that wild turn of events?

Me.

I had to stay hidden for one more night, in an untouched forest. Given the creatures that called this forest their home, it made for a good hideout if you had the survival skills that were necessary, which I did.

Everything was going according to plan. All that was left was to weather through the night, till a specific piece of my past came back for me.

Hearing some leaves crunch, I had high ground in a tree. In the darkness, I couldn't make out who it was, but I found it strange that they made it to exactly where I had been.

It was as if we were reading each other's minds, making our presences known as I pulled out my dagger, blocking a bullet, the gun that went off giving away their identity.

"Well shit," Erron huffed at me, finding my eyes in the moonlight under my hood, "It's a ghost."

"I figured you of all people could figure out I've been alive this whole time, cowboy." A long, long time ago, I faked my death in order flee Outworld. I had only returned because of this war Mileena and Kotal had caused, but I wasn't there to choose sides as Erron assumed:

"Mileena must be pullin' every card she's got, hu-"

"Who said that I was here to aid, Mileena?"

"What are you doing here then?"

Erron and I's past was complicated to say the least, but there was always this something between us. It'd been there since the day we met and with the look in his eyes, we could both feel that it was still there.

"So many questions," I huffed, not letting my motives out and teasing him, "Can't even say hi to an old first? Also, I'd appreciate an apology for trying to kill me just now."

"But I didn't," He chuckled, swirling his gun back into its holster, "And if I wanted to, I could've."

"Yeah, right," I laughed, recalling, "Remember the first time we met, and I kicked your ass?"

"As nice as it is to catch up and all," Stepping up to me, he was done playing games, direct and stern in his tone, "I'd like to know why someone who's supposed to be dead suddenly reappears when a war is breaking out."

"I'm not here for what you think I am, Erron," Staring deep into his eyes, I wasn't going to answer him; he didn't know my extensive past, thus why I was there, instead explaining to him, "I know that you're short on time and the story would be too long to tell. So, let's just pretend this didn't happen? Hm?"

"I don't think so," His fingertips were ready at his holster again; he must've been on edge, "I don't know what happened when you 'died' but I know this shit is way too coincidental."

"I see where you're coming from," Sighing deep, this was my one last effort to try and convince him before either fighting or retreating, my hand resting against his mask to pat his cheek, "But I swear to you, I am not your enemy."

The spot he had for me started to soften up, the emotion in my eyes showing I told no lies, longing to see his face, pinching his mask and whispering softly:

"It is nice to see you again, although it's not how I imagined."

"You owe me," Revealing his face, he hadn't changed a bit since the day I met him, smiling even though he was mean mugging me, his voice dying to a growl, "If anyone knows-"

"No one will, because this never happened, remember?"

Exchanging smirks, I had to giggle because it felt like old times again, hooking an arm around his neck for a soft hug, kissing his cheek and promising in my whisper:

"When the time's right, I'll tell you everything, but for now, this never happened."

"Alright," He mumbled, fixing his mask as I began to walk away, stopping at the slap I felt on my ass, quickly turning to look at him chucking, "What? Nothing happened."

Even I had to laugh, blowing a kiss before I disappeared into the night, "You haven't changed a bit, cowboy."

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat oneshot #erron black #erron black x reader #erron black x y/n #erron black imagine #erron black fluff #erron black angst #read and enjoy

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docholligay · 2 days ago

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Shamash answers: Live action final

The brief was, Sailor Moon thought: Angsty

Only 6 answers, so you're all getting a point today!

3rd places, with a place in my heart

The girls have to deal with honest to good consequences for being child soldiers- nightmares, ptsd, etc. --@amhrancas MakotoxAmi but Makoto refuses to acknowledge that she is gay --Alice (No tag for your so you'll have to pay attention when we draw!) I'm so disappointed that PGSM winds back the Minako thing so fast, after I'd spent so long anticipating it. I suppose it was too much a little-kids show but I really want to chew on that for a while, the pain of this Amazing Cool Girl that most of them idolised and were just getting to know and were so excited about and she's just… gone. --- No name, let me know if this is you and I'll try to verify. BUT ALSO YES THIS IS MY BIGGEST CRITICISM OF PGSM FUCK ME The idea of Usagi never being awakened is a fun one to play with for me - how it can all go terribly wrong if she doesn't bring everyone together, if there is no healer in the mix, how does it make the inner/outer conflict play out when S comes around - assuming everyone makes it that far. -- @vassekocho this is such an intersting idea to me, the idea of a SM where people could DIE AND STAY DEAD.

Second place, shocking even me by being about Mako

Mako knows everyone's tastes by heart. It never takes her long to learn- 3 times cooking for somewhere to get their allergies and sensitivities down, maybe another 2 to hammer out their dislikes, and 2 or 3 more to pinpoint and memorize favorites and preferreds. It's habit to make things for her friends. So when they're adults, those of them that remain, and she finds herself humming Haruka's favorite song while making a beer batter, or able to recall Ami reciting trivia as she dices vegetables, it always slams into her. She's making something for someone who isn't around anymore. She made a coursed menu, and only half of it can be fully enjoyed. The cupcakes don't need to be lactose-free anymore. She'll freeze up. The batter stiffens, the vegetables wilt, the courses are mistimed, the cupcakes burn.

@katrani Mako's not my girl, but good work is good work and damn this is GOOD WORK. I love this idea so much I moight use it myself someday, that way of indexing people by what she does in the kitchen.

And first place, coming for me personally and well:

Sailor Moon S AU: The gun lays abandoned on the road, left by Eudial in her haste to depart. Michiru stares. She had seen it. A premonition, Haruka laying broken and lifeless, a heart of such pureness pulsing as a star above her. She understands. Haruka had been but a brief respite, a moment to bask in light and goodness. That she would be the cause if its demise is fitting, she supposes. She is not light, or good. And Michiru has always done what is necessary. Personal cost is immaterial. She picks up the gun. Sights Haruka. "Michiru?" Confusion in those verdant eyes, but also trust. So much trust. She cannot do this, yet she must. The world is at stake. The mission above all else. She closes her eyes. Opens them. "I'm sorry." A whisper carried away on the wind, a prayer swallowed up by the universe. She shoots.

@seolh ABSOLUTELY tailor made to me, holy fuck. I love this, I cannot wait to see Michiru ruin her own life in the aftermath.

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 11 months ago

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The Blue Eyed Bandit

When a wanna-be cowboy rides in all the way from Tennessee, he’s laughed out of town, but Y/N can see something in him that others can’t, especially when their town becomes the target of ruthless gang of bandits.

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Cowboy!Au, Angst, Fluff)

5.9k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, prostitution, flirting, drinking, bar fights, guns, stalking, blood, wound care, knives, makeouts, hickeys, description of injury, gun sucking, degredation, groping, (attempted) kidnapping

An: I’ve wanted to write a story about Johnny as a cowboy for a while XD This was inspired by a lot of things, but especially the Mexico episode of Viva la Bam! I specificly wrote this story to be set in the ‘1850s, though it’s not explicitly stated. I did more research for this fic than any other I’ve written before, on topics from wound care to desert fruits and breeds of horses! It was super fun to write so please let me know if you would be interested in something similar to this in the future!!

You were lucky. It’s odd to say that working as a prostitute in a parlor house would be the luckier of any number of options, but it was. Leaning against the dry, rotting wooden post that held up the roofed porch of Madame Evette’s Gentleman Parlor, your current place of board and employment, you rolled this idea of luck around your mind. There’s always worse options, like that brothel up the road that had half its staff wiped out in the last smallpox outbreak. Working here, you always had a hot meal, warm baths, proper living quarters, health insurance, and much more reputable clients. In fact, you had started to get familiar with your regulars because nobody new ever seemed to come there. Looking out at the high, sandy bluffs that framed the desolate, arid New Mexico landscape, you realized that this was a town that new people didn't want to come to, but whose citizens seemed to want to leave by any means.

Lost in thought, you hardly noticed when a man walked up to the creaky railing you were leaning against until he tipped his hat at you with a warm, half smile, “Howdy, ma’am.” It shocked you how cordial he acted to you of all people. Still, you met his eyes. “Hi.” You recognized him- one week ago, this wanna-be cowboy from out east rode into here of all places to pursue his wild west fantasy, and he was already the laughingstock of the town. Still, you humored him a little, “What can I do ya for?” While he was a little dorky, you recognized the charming air he had about him that none of your other clients seemed to possess as he made conversation, “Well, I was under the assumption that this is the place for a gentleman like myself to find some company and,” Holding out his palm flat to take yours, he spoke low and with an accent you couldn’t quite place, “I would be delighted to be graced with yours.” Part of you assumed this was some sort of cruel trick he was pulling, treating a woman like you as a common lady, but you gave him your hand anyways.

Just then, the Madame caught sight of this through the window and swiftly came storming outside with a broom, “Keep those dirty paws away from my girls!” The commotion seemed to draw a good deal of attention as some of the girls inside peered out the door in various states of undress to giggle at the spectacle going down on the porch, and then there was you, caught in the middle of all this. “This is a proper establishment! You can take those dusty boots of yours down to the whorehouse across the street!” She chased him out into the streets, and there went the cowboy, ducking down an alleyway, laughing to himself.

You and the rest of the girls spent the evening lounging about the well furnished parlor, drinking wine in your garters and stockings while you entertained tonight’s men. Despite what people may think, your interactions with patrons didn’t start in the bedroom- there’s some drinking and singing and fraternizing one would usually have to get past before the fun stuff started. But the whole time you were chatting up the fat cat town banker while he puffed away at his cigar, you couldn’t help but think back to your interaction with that cowboy from earlier. There was something different in the way he treated you- how he saw you compared to how the rest of the town did. Most of the men you tended to wouldn’t be caught dead in your presence outside of this place, but he felt no shame in the slightest to interact with you. In fact, he seemed to have taken a liking to you. The thought made your chest feel warm.

Then, out of the blue, there was this great commotion outside, loud enough to rattle the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Oh. This couldn’t be an earthquake- earthquakes aren’t usually accompanied by the whip cracking sounds of gunfire. Oh. This had to be a saloon fight gone bad. You nearly fell to the ground as everyone in the parlor flooded out the front door for a chance to bear witness to this spectacle, and of course you followed shortly behind because while you were a lady, you were never one to miss a good fight. There was always something or other going on in this town, whether it be a shootout or a bank robbery, so most people were sort of desensitized to it at this point. Dashing out onto the dusty streets, all indigo from the night, so many people crowded into the little tavern next door that you would’ve thought the cheap wooden floors would’ve given out from sheer weight. The place was buzzing. You weaseled in, squirming past people. At first, all you could see over the heads of those in front of her was the town bartender Steve, the one with the shaved head, cautiously emerging from where he had ducked behind the counter, all pale under yellow lamplight. The bar in front of him was completely splintered and half of the bottles that sat behind it were shattered, sticky amber liquid draining down the walls and to the floor. The whole thing was pretty damn tragic- you knew Steve, and by extension knew how he had been busting his behind, having practically built this place from the ground up and kept it running with only a couple saloon girls for help. It was his way of fulfilling a passion you always found to be pretty selfless: making people happy. Albeit, it was through alcohol and cheap bar tricks, he still took it seriously, like it was his baby, and in one moment it was destroyed.

As you squirmed closer to the front of the crowd, that’s when you caught it. A blur of mauve then step on a chair, step on a table- crash! A man leapt out of a window with an armful of cash, green bills fluttering in the air with the sparkling shower of glass. Immediately, you recognized him, but anyone in town could with one look at that purple mink duster with the strange heart symbol on the back that hung from his shoulders or with a glance at that face that was just made for wanted posters. But just like that, he disappeared into the night. And there, on the floor at the feet of the people who had front row seats to all this, was the cowboy from earlier, and he did not look good. Well, he looked good, but he looked unwell, especially with the slowly growing red stain on his shirtfront. “My, my, my…you gotta deathwish, boy? Or are you just plain stupid?” A man standing at the front of the crowd glowered down at him like he was horseshit on his shoe, “Ana’body five miles round’d know not to mess with them bandits.” If it wasn't bad enough, he had picked a fight with the leader of the meanest gang of ruffians in the west, this ruthless fellow that went by the name Bam on account of all the chaos he caused wherever he set foot and that subtleness wasn't necessarily his style. Of course he didn’t know what he was getting into, but the bandit king was gone, and everyone had forgotten about the cowboy that was still bleeding on the hardwood, so you ran over to the bar for a wet towel. Still shaken up, Steve handed you the bar cloth he was unconsciously gripping and, as the townspeople filtered out, you went to tend to the man in the ground.

“Whats’re name, cowboy?” It was pity that urged you to help him, surely. As you peeled away the dark cloth that stuck to his skin, his chest rose with heavy breaths. He watched with half lidded eyes as you dabbed away the blood that was steadily trickling from where he was grazed with a bullet, swallowing as your hands ghosted over a faded tattoo of a woman’s name on his chest before he murmured in a voice still hoarse, “Johnny.” Smiling softly, you finished up cleaning his wound, “Well, what you did back there was mighty brave, Johnny.” Now that you got a look at him, you couldn’t deny that he was a pretty well shaped young man. Cracking an exhausted grin, he let out a labored chuckle, still polite despite the circumstances, “Well thank’y, ma’am.” Gazing up at you with those blood loss dazed eyes, Johnny murmured, a little embarrassed, “I’d invite you back to mine, but I don't think it’d be your style, considering. I, uh- I’ve been sleepin’ in the horse stables for the past week…” There was something undeniably endearing about that fact. You helped him to stand as you went to pull yourself up, “Well, what about tomorrow? We could have lunch together.” Stumbling to his feet, Johnny drawled, “That sounds like a fine idea.”

So you dressed up nice that Sunday in a dress you “borrowed” from one of the other girls that worked at the parlor with you- this vibrant pink dress, the color of ripe red pitaya fruit. The usually lively streets of the town were deserted on Sunday mornings, and since you avoided leaving the parlor during the day due to the looks you got on the street, Sundays were the only day you really went out for fresh air. Johnny was already waiting for you in front of the bar, still in the same clothes as yesterday, bloodstains and all. Seeing you fully dressed for the first time in a sort of ‘you clean up well’ moment, he looked you up and down before a smile crept onto his lips, “Why aren’t you at church?” You shrugged, “I ain’t exactly the churchgoing type, and if I was, they don’t take too well to my kind. You?” The two of you began to walk down the dusty streets, the midday sun beating down and warming your skin. Johnny walked in step with you, inching a little closer, “Well, neither am I.”

You ended up at this little oasis up on a hill at the outskirts of town- one of the few green places left in this god forsaken place. Sitting down on the grass under a Blue Jacaranda tree, you set your woven basket that you carried the food in down and you caught Johnny nearly drooling as you opened it. It was all food you found lying around the parlor- fluffy pink and white conchas, warm boiled esquites, and a package of salt pork wrapped in brown paper and twine. Handing him one of the pastries, he tore into it like a starved man. Noticing your surprise at his eagerness, Johnny stopped himself and added bashfully, “Sorry…In- In all truth, ma’am, I’ve been livin’ off’a bar peanuts for the past few days…” It was believable- that cowboy was looking mighty thin. Of course, he went right back to eating.

The two of you talked for a while. He told you all about the mishaps that happened to him on his journey there all the way from Tennessee, a part of the old Southwest territory, and about how before he realized he wanted to move out west to pursue his cowboy dreams, he was a writer for his town’s newspaper. There was no shortage of stories with this man, and you couldn’t complain because he spoke with this vividness to his words that just captivated you. Johnny asked you about what it’s like in your line of work. You told him that you grew up on a farm and came here for a better life, some life that turned out to be. But as long as you had a clean bed to sleep in and warm meals, you’d be pretty content.

“So,” You started after a silence, “How’s that wound healin’ up?” Swallowing what was in his mouth, Johnny loostend the top few buttons of his shirt and pulled the collar to the side over his bicep, exposing the half scabbed over pink flesh. Maybe it was just an excuse to touch his chest, the intimacy made more so that you were leaning over his body as he sat up on his elbows, looking down at you. Fighting back a blush from creeping onto your cheeks, you blinked and met his eyes, “It, uh…doesn’t look infected, no.” As you pulled away, your gaze lingered on his still open shirt, “Is that your woman’s name- on your chest?” Johnny glanced down at the name scrawled on his tan skin, “Nah. S’my daughter’s.” Never in your days could you imagine a man as young as him a father. Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “So she’s waitin’ for you with your lady back home?” Shaking his head, he smiled gently as if remembering something fondly, “Oh, no- my little girl’s all grown up. And my wife,” he wiped some crumbs off of the side of his mouth, his voice falling a little serious, “well, she left me ‘bout a year ago this November.” You asked for an inch and he gave you a mile. At this point, you couldn’t deny that you were interested in him, but you still maintained your stuff demeanor, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Glancing up at the sky, you shielded your eyes with your hand, “S’noon. Church should be letting out soon.”

Conversation was light as you walked back in town and he dropped you off at the parlor like a gentleman. You made a resolution that this would be routine- outcasts like you needed to stick together after all, or at least that was what Johnny said. It was cute, in a way, all this wisdom he had. As the two of you were chatting as you passed an alleyway, you saw something out of the corner of your eyes- this dark figure and a glint of something diamond blue that sent chills down your spine. But when you turned to take a second look, the shadow disappeared.

That next morning, you and some of the other girls were relaxing on the porch in your frilly underclothes and chatting because you had no clients and, in your line of work, that is what you call advertising. Every now and then a man passing by would whistle at you and you’d have to go up to the rail and flirt with them a little, standing just where you did on that day you first ran into Johnny. His plight still occupied your mind. Poor guy- his daughter left him and so did his wife. He’s probably a very lonely man. Before you could get to thinking about how you would be more than happy to help him out a little with that loneliness, your attention was drawn elsewhere. It seemed that you were too slow to notice the panicked looks and the people starting to make themselves scarce until a hush fell over the street and the air was so tense you could cut it with a knife. Just as you could’ve sworn you could hear yourself sweat, that’s when you saw him.

This hulking, dark mass looked like a vulture on the prowl as he sulked past a roadside fruit stand. There was no question who this was. Your blood ran cold at the dark chuckle that reverberated through the bandit king’s throat at the poor, shivering man who owned the stand as Bam snatched something out of one of the baskets full of fruit, not bothering to pay for it. He was subtle and silent there, something nobody had ever known him to be. Flicking his Bowie knife out of its leather sheath, the silver blade glimmered under the hot southwestern sun like sparkling hot oil as he wasted no time carving the skin off of that pitaya fruit. Though his eyes were concealed under the shadow of the brim of his hat, you felt Bam’s chilling gaze on you from that predatory grin he wore as sticky, red juices bubbled up around the Damascus steel, smearing across his blade and dribbling down his fingers. As if to emphasize a point, he dropped the now discarded peel to the ground and brought the knife to his lips, a serpent-like tongue flicking out to lap at the last traces of sweet nectar from the sharp, glinting edge.

And he smiled at you.

A cool wind blew through the air as you and Johnny sat down at the top of the hill that Sunday. “You know, ma’am,” Sitting with his legs out, cowhide boots stretched out in front of him on the grass, he turned to you, “I never caught your name- your real one, I mean.” Glancing up from the basket, you shook yourself from your thoughts of your encounter with Bam that last week, swallowing before you replied, “It’s, uh- it’s Y/N.” A warm smile spread across his face as you spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “Y/N. That is a mighty beautiful name.” That warm feeling- that same feeling as before, swelled up in your chest as you stared out onto the golden desert that seemed to stretch on for miles in the early morning sun. “Johnny.” You cleared your throat, “Is this how you expected it to go? Life, I mean.” God knows that you didn’t. You came here looking for a better life. What a sham that was. It was rare that you really got to feeling sorry for yourself, but sometimes, and especially after what happened, it was hard. Feeling nauseated, you hadn’t touched a crumb of the food you brought for the both of you, while Johnny had eagerly gotten through more than half the basket by the time you spoke up. “If you’re askin’ me if I thought I’d end up a cowboy, traveling the land and rightin’ wrongs, I would say yes.” He added hurriedly, a little embarrassed, “But, so far in this town, that ain’t exactly what I’ve been doin’...”

“So, you’re not gonna stay?” Unconsciously, you had inched just a little closer to him, nearly laying your head on his shoulder as the two of you talked. This clearly didn’t pass under Johnny’s notice as his voice fell sweet like honey against your ears, “Well, I didn’t say that. What I mean is, “ He turned toward you slightly, so close to your face that his lips nearly brushed against your cheek as he spoke in a low, slow voice, “all I’d need is a reason to stay.” You only then just noticed how, with the way your face was tilted towards his, your lips were nearly, almost touching. And then they did. But it felt nice- different from the sloppy men who had stolen kisses from you before. It felt soft, and natural. Almost upon contact, Johnny sat back with wide eyes, surprised at his own impulsive actions, “O-Oh lord…” His voice got real quiet, nearly wavering, as he blushed softly, “That may’ve been the least gentlemanly thing I’ve ever done.“

You stopped him, placing a hand against the soft fabric of his dark, half unbuttoned shirt front and leaning back in to gently press your lips to his, your eyelashes fluttering shut. Johnny’s warm muscles were initially tense under your touch but as he relaxed into the kiss, so did his body, letting out a soft groan against your lips. You had never made a man blush before, much less react so earnestly. Reaching out to you, the cowboy’s hands found purchase in your clothing, calloused fingers tangling into your calico dress as he hurriedly undid the brass buttons. Your heart fluttered in your chest and your head swam from the passion and desert heat as you started to think that this was maybe what love was supposed to be. Johnny’s breath came out in hot pants against your newly exposed skin as he hungrily sucked mauve blotches onto your neck and chest, his facial scruff tickling a little as he practically devoured you. But he was gentle with it. So sweet and gentle.

Nothing could have pulled Johnny away from you then, not even the gunshot that cracked out loud in the town below while the two of you were still caught up in the heat of the moment, so you were the one who had to pull his face away from your bosom by his hair. You could feel his breath fanning out against your skin as you sat up to get a better look at the commotion. Howling and cackling like twin coyotes, off rode the bandit king away with his fair haired cohort, arms full of loot from their latest hit- the town general store. They had swiped a small fortune in gunpowder, dynamite, and tobacco. Of course, this drew the townspeople away from church early, especially when one of the two young men who owned the store ran out, shouting and brandishing a shotgun. He fired three or four shells in their general direction, but his shots didn’t come near the hides of the bay mustangs nor the bandits that rode away on them, kicking up dust.

Johnny went back to the horse stables that night and realized just how much everything was looking up for him. He had a roof over his head, the favor of a lovely woman he would quite frankly lay down his life for, and hot meals every night courtesy of the man who owned the stable, a fellow by the name of Chris who he had gotten to know pretty well. In fact, besides the town bartender Steve, he was his only friend, but it was hard to count Steve as a friend because he was always tacking extra tequila shots onto Johnny’s tab while he distracted him with some trick he picked up in the circus. Still, he could let that slide because business was business. Chris, on the other hand, was just a sweet guy who loved horses, and he had taken such a liking to Johnny’s horse, Noami, that he let him sleep in her horse stall there free of charge.

So that explained why he was in the stables in the middle of the night, laying back against her shiny, chestnut coat as she slept with her head against his chest, snoring softly. Funnily enough, it was the horse sleeping against him that woke up first when a dark figure hopped the front gates into the stables. Blinking awake after she stood up, Johnny sat up curiously to catch sight of the silhouette opening stall doors. He thought about Chris- all those nights of charity and companionship, just for him to let some two bit their run off with his buddy’s pride and joy? Oh, no way in hell he was going to let that happen. A flash of emotions went through his mind as he threw himself to his feet and stood up to block the front gate. Johnny’s voice was nearly a growl as he gazed across at the bandit who was currently trying to make off with Jezebel, Chris’ prized palomino mare. “Y’aint leavin’ with her.” Though he didn’t initially recognize him, Johnny put two and two together quickly.

Bam was dead quiet, only visible as the tombstone shape he made in the darkness as he got low, light glinting off of the silver spurs affixed to his heels. Then, all at once it was as if the cowboy had taken a steam engine to the solar plexus, while in actuality it was a black suede wrapped fist that had knocked the air from his lungs. Still, Johnny stayed on his feet, coughing hard and hitting him with a poorly placed uppercut that knocked that hat clean off of his head. Bam sputtered, his mouth now bloodied and dripping onto the sand as he ducked down, taking a step to the side as his right hand reached for the gun afixed to his hip. It was no wonder the bandit king would fight dirty. Before Johnny could duck away, cold steel collided with his orbital bone in a skillfully placed pistol whip and he was knocked out cold. As the cowboy’s body fell limp to the ground, Bam huffed and spun his trusty piece around a finger before slotting it back in its leather holster, shooting a look at the man below him that spelled out that his resistance would not go unpunished.

When Johnny woke up, the first person to come to his aid was the stable owner himself. Chris picked him up under the armpits, lugging his half awake self over to a wooden chair in a corner and leaving him there as he went to fetch some medical supplies from his home next door, leaving the door open as midday sun flooded in. Blinking awake, the first thing Johnny did was look around to see if maybe what had happened last night was a bad dream and that the horse was still waiting in her stable, which was especially hard given the purple swelling around his left eye, but her stall door was wide open from the previous night. As Chris returned with a leather medical bag, Johnny coughed, his voice gravelly, “He- he got away with Jezebel…” This was a low point for him. It seemed that no matter how or when he tried to intervene, there was nothing this cowboy could do, even for the man who had shown him such charity. Kneeling down and threading catgut sutures onto the curved needle, Chris seemed forlorn, yes, but there was an appreciative inflection to his voice as he stitched up the split in Johnny’s cheek, “But he could’ve gotten away with a lot more if you weren't here. I’d say that makes you a hero in my book!” Turning it over in his head, he decided that maybe he had a point with that, but he still wasn't going to tell Y/N. She didn’t need to know. As the needle pierced the cowboy’s skin, he winced, sucking a breath in through his teeth. As Johnny peered down at the dried blood that certainly wasn't his that still remained on his knuckles, he swallowed hard, his voice still tense and very grave, “I’ll get’re back for you. Promise.”

So you heard no word of the stolen horses the next morning and went about your day without a care in the world, tending to clients as usual. You were especially busy that night, feverishly going from man to man, doing your thing and racking up quite a sum in commissions from all the whiskey you pawned off. In fact, you were so focused that you nearly jumped when you heard your name, “Y/N.” Madame Evette tapped you on the shoulder, drawing your attention away from the client you were currently entertaining, “Room seven. There’s a gentleman waitin’ for you upstairs.” It struck you as odd because while men who wanted to skip all the fluff wasn't that uncommon, it didn’t happen every night. Apologizing to the fellow you were talking to with a red lipsticked kiss on the cheek, you turned to hurry up the creaky staircase, making clicky noises against the wood in your little heeled boots.

Wandering down the hall of rooms upstairs, you cracked open the door of room seven to darkness inside from a put out lantern. Oh, poor guy- he must be shy. That makes the whole no canoodling thing make more sense. As you closed the door behind you, you noticed that there was just enough light from the moon trickling in the open window that you could still see a general outline of the man sitting in the wooden chair at the far corner of the room with his knees about a mile apart as you approached him, doing your little flirty routine, “So, what can I do ya’ for, handsome?” Wordlessly, the figure gestured down with two fingers and you knew what he was asking for, especially after he shifted his hips to sit lower in the chair with a huff. Getting onto your knees, you positioned yourself between his thighs, the floor chilling the skin of your bare legs. Reaching out, you started to undo his pants, and while the downstairs parlor was consistently noisy, the soft metallic clinking of a belt buckle was the only noise in the otherwise silent room. Your lips fell open and your eyes suddenly went wide at the sudden, unmistakable ice cold feeling against your forehead.

It was the muzzle of a revolver. The voice that rumbled out of the man above you was nearly a snarl as he spoke through his teeth, “You make one peep an’ I swear to god,” he pressed the tip harder against your head for emphasis and you could swear you heard a smirk in his voice, “I’m puttin’ this bullet in your fuckin’ skull.” Your heartbeat pounded in your ribcage as you felt your head swim and you thought that this is what it feels like to be a jackrabbit caught in the jaws of a coyote. Quivering, your gaze nervously trailed up his body, and you could feel the color drain from your face when your sight fell upon his glinting, all too familiar vulture eyes, flickering like blue hot steel. Click. The bandit king slowly pulled back on the hammer, his hand so close to your face you could see his fingers curl around the mother of pearl handle and read the words etched into the barrel as he tightened his grip with his finger on the trigger. And he chuckled this deep, predatory laugh, grinning down at you with a mouth full of fangs as he spoke slow, deliberately, “Now you’re gonna stand up nice n’ slow with those hands b’hind yer back- and you are gonna be real quiet.” Frozen in fear, you couldn’t move under the shadow that looked over you even if you wanted to keep your brain inside your skull, which you really, really did. “Y’takin’ me fr’a fool, whore?” Bam’s thick accent deepened with agitation as he spit his words, nearly barking, “I said,”

“Stand. Up.” A gloved hand roughly tangled in your hair and yanked you up on shaky deer legs, forcing you to weakly comply much to his satisfaction with the gun still snugly pressed against your forehead. Standing maybe six inches away from you, you picked up on the distinct scent of alcohol and tobacco on his breath. With how his gaze lingered at your lips, you could tell he was getting an idea of something else he could do with that gun, but he just nodded, relenting just slightly at your compliance, “That’s it, girl. Now turn around.” Standing up after you, Bam jabbed the revolver between your shoulder blades making you arch your back as he harshly grabbed your wrists and deftly bound them with the red bandana he wore around his neck. Pulling the gun away from your spine for a second, a warning shot cracked out through the ceiling that made you jump, your eyes nearly bugging out of your skull in fear as you yelped. But your terror was funny- so damn funny to Bam as he pushed you along, the burning hot muzzle returning to where it once was.

The scene downstairs was absolute chaos after that bullet went through the ceiling. Startled patrons and half clothed women scrambled outside, flooding into the streets and attracting quite a bit of attention, especially from the cowboy that was lingering outside the horse stables before he was set to retire for the night. Even though every instinct in him told him to stay away based on the outcome of his previous heroic efforts, Johnny’s body lurched forward almost involuntarily, dashing towards the chaos that Madame Evette’s Gentleman Parlor had become. Pushing past frightened patrons, he stormed in right as Bam was walking you down the staircase as you stumbled in front of him. Your panic-stricken eyes met Johnny’s (or at least, the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut) as he stared at the scene in front of him, his tone stern but his fear giving way to a trace of vulnerability in his voice after he swallowed hard, “Let her go.” The man behind you tugged you back hard by your bound wrists as the gun relocated to your temple, wedging you in place between the weapon and where the bandit king rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your cheek. “Oh, no way…” Bam held eye contact with Johnny as purred into your ear, speaking melodically as he taunted both you and him, “I gotch’re woman…an’ I don’t feel like givin’ her back.” Adding insult to injury, with his torso pressed snug against your back in a crude imitation of intimacy, his free hand, which was sitting on your hip, slid up your body posessively, reaching to roughly fondle your chest as he let out a low, predatory growl, his gaze challenging the cowboy across from him.

If you could’ve seen the white hot fury in Johnny’s eyes. Blinded by rage, he didn’t even consider using the pistol tucked into his holster, instead lunging to tackle Bam to the ground. You slipped out of his tight grasp just in time, clamoring to safety on your hands and knees on the hardwood floor as the cowboy just wailed on the guy. The struggle between the two was like watching two bighorn sheep with their horns locked in conflict, a blur of instinct and emotion, all rabid and teeth and fists. Letting out shuddering breaths, all you could do was watch the violent scene in front of you with your heart pounding out of your chest, not daring to move an inch. The only thing that could’ve pulled Johnny off of the man beneath him was when the town sheriff stormed in, grabbing him by the back of his shirt collar and throwing him off of the bandit king, or what was left of him as he lay limp on the ground. He was beaten to a pulp, almost literally- just a wheezing, bubbling mess of blood and bruising with a few teeth missing. Pulling Bam up by his sweat soaked black curls, Sheriff Tremaine held him to dangle in the air, glaring at the man in his hand with unadulterated disgust, “You’n you’re little gang’re goin’ away for a while.” There was no doubt that he had witnessed the brutality the cowboy inflicted, especially with the blood still dripping off of his still raw knuckles, but it seemed that he would let it slide this time, glancing to you and Johnny and tipping his hat, “We’re gonna get to roundin’ up the rest’a these bandits.”

Without a proper leader, the most fearsome gang of criminals in the west were left with nothing to hold them together, letting the sheriff's men easily pick them off and throw them in the slammer where they rightfully belonged. Life, for once in that godforsaken town, was peaceful. And Johnny? Well, after he was credited as the man who took down the bandits, he was hailed as the town hero, especially after he helped rebuild the bar and returned Jezebel to her stall at the town stables. Even Madame Evette had taken a liking to him, permitting him to come and go to the parlor whenever he felt the need to visit you- on the condition that he got a new pair of boots.

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #ryan dunn #chris pontius #steve o #ehren mcghehey #dave england #jeff tremaine #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #cowboy!au #angst #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville x reader #yes I know pitaya isn’t realisticly that juicy but for euphemism purposes #Spotify

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mbakuetshurisprincess · 2 years ago

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Love for Duty’s Sake Part 4

AN: Hello loves! With this part L4DS officially becomes my longest series which is kinda a cool little milestone to hit. I’ve come to fix the mess I made on Valentine's day LMAO (kinda). Also for absolutely no reason I did mention Okoye having a wife in this, that's just my personal hc IDK. This part is very Shuri-focused but its intentionally like that, next part will be more Y/N focused. As always, this series is dedicated to my baby @pinkwright.

Summary: As the only daughter of Genelia, there were things you just had to do, and marrying the Queen of Wakanda was one of those things.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, guns, mentions of death and grieving, that’s it I think.

Word count: 4,171

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Masterlist. Taglist.

Suggested listening: So My Darling (Acoustic) - Rachel Chinouriri

“So my darling, so my darling, so my darling When our hairs are turning grey Won't even remember our younger days, so So my darling, so my darling Baby, my boo You are my best friend, you are my best friend Remember I'll always love you”

“My Queen, please we need you to at least sit-down.” The hand belonging to the voice that was pestering her came to rest on her shoulder, snapping Shuri out of her internal world.

“Sit down?” Shuri whipped around to face the medical attendant behind her. “How am I supposed to sit when my WIFE could be lying dead on the table right now? Tell me how!” She demanded.

“Assuming the worst and pacing outside of the operating room will not do anything but raise your blood pressure my queen, please.” The medical attendant urged Shuri again, taking Shuri’s hand in hers and attempting to guide her to a seat outside of the operating room. “We have the best doctors working on her majesty, now is the time for you to rest.”

That got Shuri’s blood boiling and she ripped her hand out of the woman's grasp. “The best doctor in Wakanda is right here! Yet you all have barred me, the queen, from entering the operating room and ensuring umfazi wam (my wife’s) safety!”

“You are too close to her my Queen-” The attendant explained but Shuri quickly cut her off.

“Was I not too close to my brother when I tried to save his life? Would you have stopped me from intervening and saving my mother's life because I was too close to her?” Shuri questioned taking a step forward into the woman's space.

“Of course not but you must understand-”

Before Shuri could cut the intendant off again, Aneka’s voice cut through, “My Queen, Okoye, and Ayo have news.” Only then did Shuri pull her piercing brown eyes off of the woman and over to the Dora.

“Is this news that seriously warrants me leaving Y/N’s side?” Aneka felt the seriousness of Shuri’s question, the queen was unwilling to leave your side unless it was truly worth it.

The simple “Yes.” however was a definitive enough answer to have Shuri agree to leave the hospital wing and venture down to her lab. Not before instructing the attendant to call her if anything went wrong or if surgery finished before she got back.

Entering the lab Shuri was greeted by all eyes on her. She could feel them scanning her body, all creating their own assumptions about her; which would no doubt fuel the palace gossip about what exactly had happened on this routine business trip.

To be fair though, Shuri was doing nothing to help quell the gossip herself. In her haste to get you into the operating room and refusal to leave your side, she hadn’t gotten the chance to change out of her bloodstained clothing. Now she walked up to Okoye’s awaiting hologram, body tight with nerves clad in a button-up covered in your blood.

“What is it Okoye?” Shuri demanded sternly, crossing her arms and taking a deep breath in.

Okoye faltered for half of a second, eyes taking in Shuri’s being and easily seeing through the collected facade the royal was trying to put on. The way crossing her arms over her chest Shuri was subconsciously protecting her most vulnerable parts and trying to ground herself. How she never really exhaled the deep breath she had just taken, rather letting it come out of her nostrils in a strained sense, as if even breathing was a task.

Ayo who stood next to Okoye didn’t notice the intricacies in Shuri’s demeanor or Okoye’s pause, and neither did Aneka who was behind the queen. But Shuri noticed, subconsciously straightening the way she stood.

“Ngangamsha, (your majesty,) we have in custody the man who tried to take Y/N’s life.” The sentence was brief but Okoye knew her next movements would explain it all. Stepping to the side she revealed a man sitting in a rolling chair, gagged.

To say sitting however would be the wrong word to describe the predicament your attacker found himself in. He was bound down to the chair with rope at every point the brain could think of. Wrists, forearms, elbows, shoulders, chest, thighs, knees, calves, hell even the man's feet had been tied down. This was no doubt the work of Ayo, Shuri could recognize the master rope work the older soldier had been teaching her over the years.

Shuris eyes took this time to really take in your attacker's features. He didn’t look like a killer. Someone like Klaue or Killmonger, those were killers and they looked like it too. People who would have had no problem orchestrating a dangerous move like this. No this man was different, he looked like someone Shuri could pass on the street in America and not think twice about. He looked utterly forgettable.

“His name is Liam Drockers, born and lives here in DC, occupation sales and data analyst for several companies and businesses, the ice cream shop included.” Okoye's introduction did nothing but cause more confusion. Who the hell was this guy? “I am requesting permission to begin a thorough questioning of the subject.”

“No.” Shuri’s answer was clear and confident, following not a breath after Okoye finished speaking. “He will be escorted to Wakanda and questioning will be run by me.”

“My queen,” It was now Aneka’s time to speak, her knowledge of international law coming in handy. “He cannot be removed from American soil unless we have an admission of guilt, he is an American citizen and thus retains their rights.”

The muscles in Shuri’s neck tensed as she took a breath, “Do we all agree that this is the man who carelessly tried to take my wife's life?” She spoke as if he wasn’t there.

A “Yes,” came from the three Dora’s present.

“Then what more would an admission of guilt do? He is guilty. He will be brought back to Wakanda, questioned, and tried by the highest court for his crime.” Shuri spoke the words with utter disgust as she looked at the man.

“Your majesty-” Ayo tried this time, hoping maybe a different voice would dissuade Shuri from her current plan of action.

“Konele. (Enough.) Liam Drockers will be brought to Wakanda under direct orders of the Queen. Uyaqonda? (Do you understand me?)”

Just as before, the three women responded “Yes,” in unison.

“Good. One final thing, ensure no media outlets find out about this. Wakandan or otherwise I do not want this news broken until Y/N decides to. She deserves her privacy”

For the first time that day, the three women agreed with her. Knowing that the last thing the two of you needed was to be hounded online by news outlets trying to get a scoop.

“Thank you, you all are dismissed.” At Shuri’s word Aneka and Ayo, both left their respective rooms. Ayo wheeling Liam out of the room, presumably to prepare him for departure. And Aneka going to return to guard your operating room, leaving Shuri and Okoye standing in front of their holographic screens.

“Ikumkani wam, (My queen)” Okoye tried switching to their mother tongue hoping it would reach Shuri.“I do not know what you are thinking right now but I am telling you that you need to slow down.”

“Okoye, do not do that.”

Still, the older woman continued, “You are under unimaginable stress Shuri, you need to take a step back and assess the situation impartially.”

“Impartially? You expect me to look at this situation impartially Okoye, seriously?” A rubber band inside of Shuri that had been winding itself up finally snapped. “How am I supposed to be impartial when MY wife is lying on the operating table fighting for her life? Do not lie to me and say that you wouldn’t do everything in your power to protect the ones you love. I am doing the same thing.”

Okoye ate Shuri’s words along with the anger underlying all of her sentences. What she said was true, Okoye knew if she found herself in this position she would stop at nothing to bring her wife’s assailant to justice. But Okoye was not Shuri, and she knew that.

The ramifications of Okoye’s action, if she were placed in the same situation, would have nowhere near the blowback as the queen’s. This was the fact that Okoye understood that Shuri just couldn’t seem to grasp. But the general was aware any attempts to explain this to Shuri right now would be futile. she was too fragile, too caught up in her own emotions.

“Sisi, (Sister,)” Okoye’s tone softened. She was not coming to Shuri as a general would come to her queen, instead, she chose to appeal to their personal connection hoping that she would at least hear what Okoye was saying. “Your mind will run much clearer after a shower and a quick nap. You have been through something traumatic, and you need to take a step back. ”

Okoye paused debating if continuing on was a good idea, ultimately after really looking at Shuri once again she decided to keep going. “She will need you when she wakes up, all of you, not just the parts you’re willing to show.”

Shuri tried to speak, her mouth opened and her lips moved as if to form words. She so badly wanted to tell Okoye just how scared she was at that moment. How it wasn’t fair how fast everything happened. How you two were just beginning to warm up to each other after all this time. How when you were wheeled into the medical wing she squeezed your hand so hard as she yelled out instructions, she was worried it might have been bruised.

All of these things ran through Shuri’s head as possible things she could say to Okoye at that moment. And she was sure the older woman would listen dutifully as she spoke and offer nothing if not the most rational responses.

But Shuri couldn’t bear to hear that right now, she had other things more important than her feelings to worry about in her eyes. So to waste time that she could be using to try and save your life, discussing her own feelings would be the ultimate careless act.

“Thank you, Okoye, that will be all.” Before Okoye could respond Shuri ended the call.

Now without Okoye’s holograph in front of her, the way her reflection looked back at her sent shivers down her spine. Your blood still caked into her clothing, curls falling every which way, she felt and looked like some strange amalgamation of her own physical form. Maybe Okoye was right.

Quickly she called Aneka who assured her that you were still in surgery and were not predicted to be finished for at least another hour and a half. A nap was one hundred percent out of the question, she couldn’t sleep until she knew for sure that you were okay and that your attacker had at minimum stepped foot on Wakandan soil. But a shower and a quick change of clothes could be arranged.

Standing in the shower she let the water run over her head and fall all down her back. As she stared down at her feet letting her mind go numb the color of the water changed. The once clear water that ran down the drain now held a reddish tint, it took her a moment to realize what exactly caused it.

It was your blood that had dried into her hands from when she applied pressure to your chest. Her mind suddenly switched on and to you. What would you wear or wake up to? The hospital garments that were provided were definitely nothing to scoff at but Shuri had picked up on how particular you were about your clothing and the fabrics you wore. She made a mental note to grab something out of your drawers so you could feel more comfortable as you recovered.

Your wife spent the rest of her time in the shower mulling over the possibilities of what your attacker's motives could have been.

While picking out an outfit she mentally compiled a list of every major disagreement with the United States she had been involved in since taking over.

And by the time she was finished readying herself to be back at your side, truly she felt as if she hadn’t developed concrete enough theories to deduce what would cause a lowly date and sales analyst to attempt to take the life of a foreign head of state.

She’d gotten herself nowhere in all that thinking, and more importantly, she’d gotten you nowhere. When you awoke, Shuri wouldn’t be able to tell you that she’d fixed the whole situation and that you had nothing to worry about other than getting better. No, she’d have to tell you the truth. That yes, they’d gotten your attacker and he was in custody; but they were no further along than that.

She was failing you.

Shaking Shuri from her mind's inner turmoil she remembered to grab your clothes before heading back down to the operating room. Across from your bed stood the dark oak dresser your family had gifted you and Shuri as an engagement gift. She dug into the drawer just as she had seen you do a million times looking for a t-shirt for you to wear. After moving a few to the side, she was met with something hard yet pliable. Confused, the queen pulled it and her hand out of the drawer to inspect.

“A journal?” Shuri questioned out loud. There was no mistaking that's what she held in her hand at that exact moment, the whole thing was wrapped in a leather case with your monogram on the front. Something else got her attention though, sticking out of the bottom was a small receipt. She recognized the name of the restaurant Mafemi’s, a place you two used to frequent in the early days of your courtship.

“But that was so long ago,” Shuri thought to herself. “What were you still doing with a receipt from then?”

As much as she knew she shouldn't, Shuri opened your journal, promising that she would only read the page that the receipt had come from.

Date: May 15, 2022 Today Shuri and I went out to lunch at Mafemi’s. Mama says it's good for us to get out and be seen together. It’ll “help take the spotlight off of the reckless decisions I made during my single life.” Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. But lunch, I don’t know. I just feel like Shuri doesn't feel the same way I do about her. Like when we go out to eat together, my eyes are on her. Her curly hair, her sharp ass jawline, and her bottom lip that always seems to be slightly poked out. Just all of HER. But what does Shuri do when we’re supposed to spend quality time together? Sit in my face and fiddle with her damn kimoyo beads! She can hardly pick her eyes up from it to at least feign interest in the conversations we’re having. The only time she acts remotely attracted interested in me is when the fucking cameras come out. “Oh Y/N act like I just said something funny so they can see you laughing with me.” Or “Oh Y/N let me feed you this bite of food so they can see us being romantic.” I get that this arrangement wasn’t her first choice, HELL it wasn’t mine either but shit. We could at least try and see if there was anything between us….

What the hell did Shuri just read? Never in her life had it crossed her mind that you harbored any feelings for her other than hatred. All of this time she just assumed you had never thought of her in any other light than contempt but to hear younger you talk so candidly about the way you felt had her thinking otherwise.

Had you always felt like this?

Was the question that bounced around in Shuri’s head as she took a seat on the edge of your bed, the journal still in hand. And if so, how had she missed the signs that had been sitting in her face so obviously? She looked down at your journal, a few more pages couldn’t hurt, right?

As much as she wanted to continue, a message from Aneka on her kimoyo beads halted her progress.

My queen, Y/N is out of surgery and is being moved to her room in the ICU recovery unit.

Thanking Bast out loud, Shuri stood from the bed and tucked the journal back in its hiding place. She quickly found a sweatshirt and short set she knew you felt comfortable in and rushed out of the bedroom.

The sight of you lying unconscious in the hospital bed, hooked up to dozens of wires made Shuri’s stomach churn. The doctors had updated her before she entered the room. The surgery went as well as could be expected given the amount of blood you lost and how much time it took to fly back to Wakanda from the United States.

Additionally, your case was further complicated by the fact that the bullet used to shoot you was designed to shatter on impact. Ruling out the possibility of forensic tracing and making the doctor's jobs harder due to the extensive internal damage. It all was a lot but you would be okay and that was all that Shuri needed to hear.

“I will give you your space.” Was all Aneka said before she slipped out of the room, going to stand guard outside. There was a formalness in the way Aneka spoke that she hadn’t used before keying the queen in that her outburst from earlier had some effects on their dynamic. A small twinge of guilt ate at her, she would need to apologize but right now was not the time.

Right now all of her focus was on you, carefully tucking one of your locs behind your ear as she stood over you. You looked beautiful even now. It reminded her of the times when she couldn’t fall back asleep in the middle of the night, so she would turn and watch you. In awe of the way your eyelids fluttered and your chest raised slowly with every breath. You were a work of art in her eyes, something that even the best painters couldn’t have created. You were the reason she knew Bast had to exist because she was sure you were too beautiful to have been created by a human.

Shuri opened her kimoyo beads and read your vitals one more time before deciding that waking up to her looming over you wasn’t the best idea. She took a seat in the recliner chair next to your bed, kicking her feet up onto the bed next to yours. Knowing it was just a matter of time before the anesthesia wore off the queen opened kimoyo beads and started reading through the information that had been gathered on Liam Drockers.

Fifteen minutes later Shuri heard the first indicator that you were awake, a groan that you tried to form into words came out slowly. Shuri immediately set the journal down and jumped to your side.

“Hey hey hey sthandwa, have some water first hmm?” Tentatively Shuri brought the straw up to your lips. “You are probably dehydrated and your throats dry, take it easy.” Even though your eyes were trained on the cup of water that you greedily sucked down, you managed to bring them up to shoot Shuri a roll of your eyes.

When you finally finished Shuri pulled the straw out of your mouth and you leaned back into your pillows trying to catch your breath.

Who knew drinking water could be so tiresome?

Shuri leaned your bed forward so you could sit up, worried that you would somehow choke on all the water you had just downed.

Once you caught your breath you opened your mouth to speak, “Are you okay?” It came out gravelly but still, Shuri could hear it nonetheless.

“Am I okay? Umfazi wam, (My wife,) I am not the one in the hospital bed right now. Are you okay?” The way Shuri posed the question back to you had you swallowing hard.

What was the answer? Did you feel the best? hell fucking no. Underneath the grogginess you felt was an unrelenting buzz of pain, not enough to cause you true discomfort, but enough to let you know that everything was not right within you. But you knew Shuri well enough to tell right now hearing that you were not okay wouldn’t do anything but further stress her out. Whatever had happened in the time between being shot and waking up clearly was taking a toll on her and the last thing you wanted to do was add more to that.

“I feel fine enough considering.” You assured with a small smile. That little smile sent a wave of calm washing over Shuri, it was a sight at one point she wondered if she’d ever see again.

“Do you need anything? I brought you down a change of clothes but I think we should wait until you’ve got some more of your strength back. Your hair oils here too, I figured before you go to bed I could oil your scalp for you. I’ve never done it before but I think I’ve watched you enough times to know.” Listening to Shuri babble on softly about the things she’d done for you only made your smile widen, she was so attentive to you. The care she displayed almost reminded you of how Yara was before she got sick.

Yara, Josiah, Genelia, your family, shit.

One of the machines you were hooked up to started beeping faster indicating your heart rate was increasing. Shuri looked down at you, worried that maybe she had overwhelmed you with too much too early. “Or I don’t have to oil your scalp, I was just suggesting it. I-”

“No Shuri, that's not it. Have you,” How exactly does one ask a question like this?

Have you told the media that I was shot to garner support for our relationship and goals? No, definitely not right. Did you let the public know about an extremely vulnerable moment in my life to make them more empathetic to our relationship? Yeah, you were getting farther from what you were hoping for at this point.

Your worries surrounding asking made the question fall from your lips sheepishly. “Have you said anything about this,” You gestured down to your body, “Publicly? It's okay if you did, it’s just I wanna be able to let my family hear that I’m okay you know. My siblings and everything I wouldn’t want them to think I abandoned them, again.”

The nervous tone in your voice gave your wife pause, she hadn’t heard you falter like that before. Shuri sat down on the edge of the bed and took your hands in hers. “Of course not sthandwa. I gave clear orders that nothing comes out about this until you are ready, whenever that is. I didn’t say anything to your family in all honesty because I didn’t know if you wanted me to, I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

You squeezed Shuri’s hands in yours, “Thank you.”

“Of course mtuwam. (my person.) Now how about the oil?” You nodded your head eagerly, grateful that you had been blessed with such an amazing person.

The next hour you spent in Shuri’s arms. After a lot of convincing, Shuri finally agreed to sit behind you in the hospital bed, so that your back was directly in front of her chest. Your wife hummed a song to herself as she guided the oil across your scalp, rubbing gently as she finished each section. When she finished she guided you back so that all of your weight lay on her chest, your head resting on her. At that moment the hum of pain running through your body stopped, the sound of her heartbeat steadied you and her soft breathing felt like a comforting breeze. You were home.

But home could never truly hide you from bad news could it? People always found a way to disturb your peace for their own gain, no matter how low the blow was. Thats why when Aneka came into the room with a stern look on her face you knew it was some form of bad news was about to fall from her lips.

“My queens, I hate to disturb you but I figured you should see this as soon as possible.” Launching a projection from her kimoyo beads, a photo of you and Shuri with the First Lady and President from your recent visit popped up with a tweet attached.

@FLOTUSMALLORY:

We are devastated to hear about the unfortunate shooting of Queen Y/N Y/L/N Udaku. Our prayers are with the Wakandan First Family and the entire country as they rake the time they need to recover.

Taglist: @shuriszn @sokkasbae25 @verachii @cuddl3s4shur1 @takeyaki @jinnie10101 @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @beautybyfire @6-noir @mocha-aya @yvxmpire @mysticalmarss @ziayamikaelson @youralphawolf72 @n7cje @inmyheadimobsessed @shurisjournal @shurisbigtoe @saintwrld @pinkwright @chatitajens @playhousedistee @motheroffae @injeolmiee @tchhairbandhere @._mrqs @msudaku @lppriceisright

#shuri black panther #shuri udaku x reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri x reader #shuri x y/n #shuri x you #black panther #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #wlw blog #shuri udaku #wlw fanfic #wlw ship

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freakcliff · 14 days ago

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Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom Fic recs

heartsigh by andromeda3116. 24k, M

Inej, the tumultuous first year after getting her ship, and Kaz, in that order.

Sankta Margaretha and Other Tales of Sorrow by oneofthewednesdays. 18k

When his daughter was stolen from beneath his nose on the outskirts of Os Kervo, Samir Ghafa lost his faith in the saints. After a letter arrives bearing the insignia of the Lantsov double-eagle, he finds his hope rekindled. But when he learns of the demon of Ketterdam, he begins to fear once more...

By the Book by marycontraire. 4k

“You look like a pirate,” Kaz says. “I am a pirate,” Inej reminds him as they emerge into the dark storage room. Kaz holds his bonelight aloft to illuminate the rows and rows of garments. “Not this morning,” he says. “This morning you’re the bride of a respectable gentleman farmer."

Duplicity by marycontraire. 4k

Kaz Brekker has two reasons for everything.

No Echo by marycontraire. 14k, M

Kaz and Inej visit Ravka. She confronts her past; he makes a decision about his future.

what the water gave me by 19burstraat. 23k

In time, he almost forgot what he had once been able to do. Water was his most ardent foe, not an ally. Water was the bodymen’s boats, Reaper’s Barge, and Jordie’s corpse. The water had given, and could give him, nothing that he wanted. It would make no bargain with him that could be worth it– so he would not try. He eked out his fortune and his revenge with every bloody punch and petty swindle and broken bone. He ignored the hiss and slap of the filthy water in the canals that wended through the city, the roar of the waves at the harbour that smashed boats to pieces, the sinuous curl of the mist on wet nights that got you jumped if you weren’t paying close enough attention. The Ketterdam water had a touch of the mocking about it– a determination to be as awful and monstrous and polluted as he was. But Kaz didn’t need a reminder of what he’d become. The water had his brother; it would not have him, too. Assuming Kaz was a Tidemaker; what, then?

High Sentence by heliocharis. M, 25k.

On a cool spring evening in the third year after she first left Ketterdam, Inej Ghafa steps off the docks at Fifth Harbour and walks into the scene of a crime. She’s back in the city on the tail of a slaver, and she needs the right crew for the job. All they have to do is gather some intelligence, do a bit of thieving, and get a whole lot of particular eccentrics in the same place at once. And maybe try not to kill each other before then.

Guns and Knives and Forks by heliocharis. 31k.

“I think I’ll have a sable trim on my coat,” Kaz said. “Is it worth it to upset the Ravkans, do you think?” “What was it you said to me once?” Kaz asked. “It’s perfectly acceptable for one country to exercise its sovereign right to get rich by undermining the sovereign laws and rules of other countries?” He leaned back and crossed his legs, bad over good, and brought his cigarette to his mouth. “And it’s not even the country getting rich. It’s me.”

After the success of his first international escapade, Kaz Brekker takes up a few easier ones in the interest of supplementary earnings. The food trade is stable, reliably profitable, and gives him far less trouble than some of his business in the city. Until someone threatens the wrong ship.

call it by name by phyrrlc. M, 24k

Don’t you despair Though my little words can’t compare I’ll always be here with you behind closed eyes It’s a terrible idea, Inej thinks, asking Kaz to come back to Ravka with her. She asks him anyway.

collision course by cameliawrites. M, 10k

My dearest Inej— (Nina writes,) —don’t learn too late how sweet it can be. . . . Inej adjusts to Kaz the way that winter adjusts to spring: she thaws, and thaws, and thaws—and then she utterly melts.

roomy, and drenched in sunlight by Whitherward. M, 61k.

It was a story they’d told each other often, over too much kvas. A running joke between them, what they would do if they ever decided to leave it all behind. She’d never dreamed they actually would. Inej, and Kaz, and what comes after: a story in three parts.

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #grishaverse #fic recs #cleb talky #gud writes #shadow and bone #netflix shadow and bone

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calciumdeficientt · 4 months ago

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hi if i dm you my oc for bully can u do the headcanons thing? also for characters how would you feel about doing hal from the greasers? he’s my favourite and i think he’s pretty underrated

Feel free to send your oc over! I’m am genuinely obsessed with other people’s ocs everyone puts so much thought into them, in the meantime please enjoy my Hal hcs :3333

If Hal has no fans I’m dead. They could never make me hate you Hal Esposito

Hal Esposito hcs

- one thing i alway hate hate HATED about Hal’s voice lines was how rockstar trivialised his fatness and made it the crux of his personality because haha fat = funny but i like to think what it actually stems from is an overbearing mother trying to make up for lost time

-the greasers canonically live in and around the most underdeveloped and deprived areas of bullworth, so its not a particularly bad shout to assume Hal grew up poor, maybe with very little to eat, hence now… its all he can really think about

- also in the voice lines from when jimmy has to fight to earn the greaser’s hideout, Hal offhandedly critiques lucky for not enjoying his preferred channels “what, natural disasters and war footage doesn’t do it for you?” So i also like to imagine Hal is kind of a big history buff, and in true boy fashion he’s particularly fixated on the history of war and combat

-secretly, i reckon he enjoys building model planes and tanks, its basically what he does in the shop but way cooler (at least to him) and the fumes are just minorly different. He knows everything there is to know about the models too, including their life size counterparts. He can tell you everything trom the caliber of the fixed guns, the length of the wheel tracks, the wingspans, even down to the serial numbers and the dates they were patented and discontinued. Shit’s majorly impressive.

- his jacket was his dad’s, him and his mum split when he was pretty young, right after his little sister was born but Hal didn’t really take it so badly, at least not as badly as his parents had initially expected. He was old enough to know what divorce was, and somewhat wise enough to see that it would be better for both parents if they cut ties. The jacket is very very vintage and is falling apart from dry rot. Hal used leather softener stuff on it and re-lined it countless times but it still looks freshly plucked from a dumpster. Not that he minds, he thinks it makes him look rugged

- speaking of his little sister, he really loves that little girl. It’s where most of his money goes, he’s so incredibly soft for her. If he could have it his way shed have every single penny out of his pocket to spend on whatever she liked. She’s only little, barely in grade school but its still all but confirmed she’s going to bullworth when she gets old enough(based on the little kids I’m assuming is a mixed middle school/high school but that’s a an entirely different can of worms) , and god help everyone then. If he’s not already graduated, Hal will literally knock his grades down low enough to not graduate if it means he can hang around and protect his sister for just a smidge longer.

-this kid is so fucking smooth, it comes in the greaser gauntlet, you’ve gotta woo the ladies (or gents, they’re delinquents, not bigots) to get in or you’ll make them look bad. Hal’s a real Casanova but he gets the piss taken out of him because his taste is a little… unconventional. He’s just ahead of the curve, and heavy on the curve. It’s all but confirmed he likes bigger ladies and honestly who are we to take that away from him?

- he does that dude thing where he’ll slap you on the back when he hugs you and he is STRONG. He’s got big calloused hands with crazy surface area that wind you for a good 20 minutes after a pat on the back. Best to avoid him on your birthday too, his birthday digs are LETHAL (is that a thing in the US its a thing inthe UK?)

#bully cce #bully #bully canis canem edit #bully se #hal esposito #bully greasers #greasers bully #bully hcs #bully rockstar #bully scholarship edition #keeping it so real i had toi but myself off i could talk about this dude FOREVA

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 7 days ago

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Mamacita - Lee Taeyong x Reader

Now Playing: » Mamacita « Chase Atlantic 0:52 ─〇───── 3:22 ⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

Pairing: Mafia Leader!Taeyong x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 18,829 Part 2 of 3 (Part 1) - (Part 3)

Warnings: 18+ MDI, (Oh Boy), MAFIA, SMUT (unprotected, p in v, spitting, switch, choking, other's I can't remember), Minor Angst (good ending), Sexual Arrangement (Kinda FwB), Drug Abuse, Forced Drug Abuse, Overdose (survives), Attempted Murder, Sex while Intoxicated, Toxic Relationship(?), Commitment Issues, Manipulative Behaviour, Guns, Implied Age Gap

Summary: 🎵 That's my mamacita, yeah (mamacita) I won't ever leave her, yeah (yeah, yeah) Mama, I might keep her, might keep her I don't love her, but I need her, yeah 🎵 or What happens when a firey girl catches the eyes of a mafia leader

A/N: god, I did not want to do multiple parts, but it would nOT fit in one part so...

It was barely a couple of days later when the first call from Taeyong came.

"Sweetness, I've arranged for Johnny to come grab you after 5 PM, bring you straight to me," his smooth, commanding voice rang over the phone, leaving no room for negotiation.

Y/n blinked, holding the phone a little tighter. “Wait, Taeyong–” she started, but the line had already gone dead.

He hadn’t even waited for her response, as if her agreement was simply a formality he could skip.

She stared at her phone, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. The pit in her stomach deepened, a mix of apprehension and frustration bubbling inside her. He was relentless, always in control, but considering the position he was in, it was really no surprise.

Y/n sighed, setting her phone back down. She glanced at the clock. It was already past noon, and she had just a few hours to prepare herself for whatever this impromptu meeting with Taeyong would entail.

The rest of the afternoon felt like a blur as she went through the motions of getting ready. She couldn’t shake the knot in her stomach, her thoughts swirling with questions. Sure, she expected a call, but why was he calling her over so soon? Was he that desperate?

When 5 PM rolled around, the car pulled up outside her building. Y/n peered out her window, spotting Johnny in the driver’s seat, casually leaning back as if he had all the time in the world. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her bag and headed downstairs.

As she stepped outside, Johnny rolled down the window and gave her an easy grin. “Right on time. You’re learning,” he teased.

Y/n rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Do I even have a choice?”

Johnny chuckled, opening the passenger door for her from the inside. “Not really. Get in.”

The ride was quiet at first, with Johnny drumming his fingers on the wheel every now and then. Y/n stared out the window, watching the city blur past, her nerves mounting with every mile. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Johnny,” she started, her voice hesitant. “Do you know what this is about? Like…really?”

He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. “Not my place to say. But don’t worry too much, Taeyong’s a good man.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they did little to ease the tension coiling in her chest. She nodded faintly, deciding it was best not to press him further. She’s never been this deep in before, not for a long time.

The car eventually slowed as they turned down a familiar street. Y/n’s pulse quickened when she realized they weren’t heading to Taeyong’s mansion or the hotel, they were going somewhere new. As they pulled up to what she assumed to be a speak-easy, her heart sank.

“What is this?” she asked, glancing at Johnny.

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically, stepping out of the car to open her door.

Y/n hesitated before stepping out, her heels clicking against the pavement. The building loomed above her, its dark glass exterior reflecting the evening sky. She followed Johnny up the stone steps, her unease growing with each step.

Inside, the space was lavish but dimly lit, with plush furnishings and an air of exclusivity that made her feel out of place. Taeyong was already there, seated in a secluded corner, a drink in hand. He looked up as she entered, his sharp gaze softening when it landed on her.

“Sweetness,” he greeted, standing and gesturing for her to join him. “Right on time.”

Y/n forced a smile, walking over and taking the seat across from him. Her palms felt clammy, but she refused to let it show. Whatever game he was playing, she would figure it out and she’ll play it twice over.

Johnny gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before retreating to stand by the door, his watchful eyes scanning the room.

Taeyong leaned back in his chair, his eyes trailing over her “You look stunning,” he said, his voice smooth, almost lazy. “I thought tonight we could have dinner together. Something nice.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Dinner?” she echoed, her tone edging on disbelief.

He nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s just a meal, Sweetness. Don’t overthink it.”

Her brows knitted together. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for. Dinner felt...intimate, and intimacy wasn’t supposed to be part of their arrangement. “Taeyong,” she started, her voice firm, “I thought we agreed to keep this simple. What’s this all about?”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Simple doesn’t mean boring,” he said, his tone teasing but with an edge that made her stomach flip. “And having a meal together doesn’t change anything. You still have your boundaries, and I still have mine.”

She frowned, feeling the ground beneath her metaphorically shift. “It feels like you’re crossing a line.”

Taeyong’s smirk deepened, and his voice lowered, rich with amusement. “Sweetness, I’m just feeding you. Let’s not make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but the waiter appeared, setting down two glasses of wine and handing them menus. She looked at the table, her pulse racing.

Dinner. Just dinner, she told herself, though the unease coiled tighter in her chest. Taeyong always had a way of steering things in his direction, and tonight was no different.

Y/n picked up the menu, her fingers steady despite the churn of thoughts in her mind. She glanced at Taeyong, who was watching her with that same unreadable gaze, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.

He thought he was in control, steering this strange dynamic between them. What he didn’t realize was that she had her own plans, plans that didn’t involve staying under his thumb for long.

"Fine," she said, her voice light as she tapped a finger against the menu. "I suppose I’ll let you buy me dinner. But don’t expect this to become a regular thing."

Taeyong chuckled, low and smooth. “You make it sound like I’m twisting your arm. It’s just a meal, Sweetness.”

She forced a smile, hiding the confidence bubbling underneath. He might think she was another piece on his chessboard, but she had her own game to play. Let him think he was winning. The more he underestimated her, the easier it would be to slip through his grasp when the time came.

When the waiter returned, Taeyong ordered for both of them, Y/n barely lifting a finger. Y/n sipped her wine, letting him take the lead for now. She wasn’t fazed by his assertiveness, if anything, it only solidified her goal.

As the first course arrived, Taeyong leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on her. “So, tell me, Sweetness. What’s your story?”

She raised a brow, cutting into her food with deliberate care. “My story?”

He nodded, swirling his wine. “Everyone has one. I’m curious about yours.”

Y/n smiled, tilting her head. “You’re telling me you don’t know it already?”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, she could see the flicker of challenge in his eyes. “I wouldn’t ask if I knew. You look to have a lot on your mind.”

She shrugged, taking her time before answering. “Maybe. But some things are better left unsaid.”

He leaned in slightly, the air between them charged. “Not to me.”

Y/n met his gaze head-on, her confidence unwavering. “Especially to you.”

The tension crackled, but she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to let him corner her, no matter how magnetic his presence was. If Taeyong was trying to unravel her, he’d find himself facing a wall.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, leaning back again. His smirk softened into something almost genuine. “I like a bit of mystery.”

Y/n let him think he’d won that round, though the triumph simmered quietly in her chest. She had to play her cards carefully, she was playing her own game, and she wasn’t about to lose.

As the dinner wore on, they exchanged light conversation, both of them probing for weaknesses in their own ways. To Taeyong, it might have seemed like a casual meal. To Y/n, it was a challenge.

The clinking of glasses and silverware faded into the background as the waiter brought the bill, which Taeyong settled with a flick of his wrist, his gaze fixed on Y/n.

She kept her expression neutral, her mind already preparing for what came next. This was the predictable part of their arrangement, dinner, the unspoken tension, then back to his domain where boundaries blurred and control shifted.

Taeyong stood, offering his hand. She hesitated for a heartbeat before taking it, letting him guide her out of the restaurant. The cool night air greeted them, but it did little to settle the simmering heat between them. Johnny was already waiting by the car, his stoic presence a reminder of the world Taeyong operated in.

As they slid into the backseat, Taeyong didn’t say much. His arm draped casually over the back of the seat, his fingers brushing against her shoulder. Y/n leaned into the window, watching the city lights blur past, her thoughts racing. She was playing a game of patience, and every move had to be calculated.

“You’re quiet,” Taeyong said, breaking the silence.

“Just tired,” she replied, keeping her voice even. “It’s been a long day.”

He hummed, as if unconvinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, his gaze lingered on her profile, studying her with the intensity she had grown used to. It was as if he was always searching for something, some unspoken truth she refused to give.

The car slowed, and Y/n blinked as they turned into the driveway. Of course, they were back at Taeyong’s mansion. Where else would he take her? The sprawling estate loomed in the darkness, its grandeur a stark contrast to the simple life she was used to.

Johnny opened her door, offering a polite nod. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, stepping out.

She glanced at Taeyong as he joined her, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back as they walked up the steps. The gesture was possessive, a subtle reminder of the dynamic he believed they shared.

Inside, the house was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt suffocating. Taeyong led her to the living room, where he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. He poured himself a drink, his movements unhurried, as if savoring the control he held over the moment.

“Drink?” he asked, gesturing to the crystal glasses.

Y/n shook her head. “I’m good.”

He tilted his glass toward her, his gaze sharp. “Suit yourself. But I insist you stay tonight.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her heart raced. “I figured as much.”

Taeyong chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “Good. You’re learning.”

Y/n crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the couch. “What if I had other plans?”

“Cancel them,” he said simply, taking a slow sip of his drink. “You’re here now.”

She raised a brow, the fire in her eyes flickering. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Always,” he replied, setting the glass down and stepping closer. “You wouldn’t have come with me tonight if you didn’t want this.”

He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean she’d give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Besides, it’s not like she had much of a choice. Instead, she let him close the distance between them, her chin tilting up defiantly as his gaze bore into hers. He was intoxicating, a storm she couldn’t quite resist, but she reminded herself of the endgame.

“Fine,” she said, her voice laced with feigned indifference. “Let’s see how the night goes.”

Taeyong smirked, taking her hand and pulling her toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. “Oh, Darling,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise. “The night is just beginning.”

She stopped him in the dimly lit hallway, her hands curling around his collar as she pulled him down into a kiss. It was slow at first, her lips brushing against his with deliberate softness, before deepening into something that made his head spin. His eyes fluttered shut as he melted into her, savoring every second of the kiss like it was the only thing grounding him.

When she pulled back, a teasing smile played on her lips as she took his hand, trying to guide him back toward the living room.

Taeyong dug his heels in, his grip firm as he stopped her. “Where are you going?”

“Grabbing a bottle,” she repeated, her brow raising in mock defiance. “You know, our tradition?”

He pulled her closer, his arms sliding around her waist and holding her snugly against him. “Not tonight,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I want to be sober for this.”

Her head tilted as she looked up at him, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “But you’ve already had a couple of drinks, and you’re literally holding one right now.”

Taeyong smirked, the corners of his lips curling mischievously. “This is sober compared to what you have had me drink,” he quipped, leaning down to steal another kiss.

Y/n chuckled against his lips, her amusement tinged with disbelief. “Oh, come on, Taeyong. You make it sound like I’m your personal bartender.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that disarming way of his. “Maybe you are. Except I don’t think bartenders look as good as you do.”

Rolling her eyes, she placed her hands on his chest, pushing lightly. “Flattery won’t distract me. Let me grab the bottle.”

Taeyong’s grip tightened, his arms circling her waist as he pulled her closer. His voice dipped lower, more serious now. “I’m not joking, Y/n. Tonight, I don’t want anything clouding this.”

Her heart skipped a beat, his intensity catching her off guard. The air between them shifted, heavier with meaning. She searched his eyes, trying to read him, but all she found was an unspoken determination.

“You’re being unusually sentimental,” she teased, though her voice was softer than she intended.

His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something more serious. “No,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly along her jawline. “I just don’t want anything dulling this. I want to feel everything tonight, every moment with you.”

The weight in his words made her breath hitch, catching her off guard. For a moment, she just stared at him, unsure of how to respond, but the intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt.

“Well,” she finally said, masking the flicker of nerves behind a smirk. “If you’re planning on being all tender, you’d better make it worth my while.”

Taeyong chuckled, pulling her closer as he pressed another kiss to her lips. “Trust me, Lovely,” he whispered, his tone equal parts promise and challenge. “I intend to.”

Taeyong paused, his lips barely brushing hers, his breath warm against her mouth as he whispered, "You want this?" His voice was low and rough, laced with vulnerability that made her chest tighten.

Y/n hesitated for only a moment before nodding, her voice soft but certain. "I do."

His lips curved into the faintest smile, one filled with relief and something deeper.

"I need to hear you say it," he murmured, his fingers brushing along her jawline, his touch achingly gentle despite the fire burning in his eyes.

"I want this," she said, her voice stronger now, matching the resolve in her gaze.

That was all he needed. Taeyong captured her lips again, this time with a fervor that made her heart race. "Good," he breathed against her mouth, the word almost a growl.

As he leaned in closer, his hand ghosted over her waist, his fingers pressing lightly but firmly as he whispered, "I want you to feel how much this means to me, Y/n. Every second, every touch, I don’t want there to be any doubt."

She exhaled shakily, her hands moving instinctively to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms. "You’re not holding back this time, are you?"

"Not a chance," he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips before he kissed her again, deeper this time, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

This was different, Taeyong was making sure of it, and so was she.

He stopped for a brief moment, his lips still grazing hers, eyes searching hers for a flicker of approval before continuing his slow, measured movements. “This good?” he murmured, his voice a low, breathy whisper that made her shiver.

Y/n nodded, her fingers threading through his hair as she whispered back, “Yes.”

Taeyong's lips trailed slowly down her body, each kiss a soft promise that ignited a fire inside her. “You deserve to feel everything, every second,” he said, his voice vibrating against her skin. “I want you to remember this for the next week.”

Her breath hitched as his hands became more deliberate, teasing and exploring with a quiet intensity. “Taeyong…” she whispered, her voice trembling as her body arched slightly under his touch.

As he moved lower, the heat between them grew, every inch of his touch a lingering claim on her skin. He pulled her closer, feeling the rush of her breath quicken as his lips ghosted over her stomach, his hands tracing the soft lines of her hips.

“I can feel your heart racing,” he said with a soft chuckle, his tone filled with both teasing and adoration.

He took his time, savoring every moment as his fingers worked their way to the waistband of her underwear. “Ready?” he asked softly, pausing with his fingers hooked around the fabric.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice steady despite the fire in her chest. “Don’t stop.”

The fabric clung to her, but with a gentle tug, he removed it, his movements slow and purposeful, as if undressing her was as intimate as any kiss. His gaze never left her, eyes dark with desire and intent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, the sincerity in his voice making her cheeks flush.

As the last of the fabric slid off, he paused, looking down at her exposed body. Drugging his finger past her slit, Y/n shivered.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he muttered, his voice almost reverent as his hands roamed freely.

Y/n gasped sharply, her breath catching in her throat as Taeyong’s gaze held hers. “Tell me how it feels,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent another shiver through her.

“It feels…good,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper as the sensation of his touch overwhelmed her.

The intensity of his eyes made her pulse quicken, and without breaking eye contact, he slowly pushed his finger past her pussy lips, pumping her slowly. The sensation sent a shiver through her, a wave of heat pooling in her stomach as she felt every inch of him, every deliberate movement.

It had been a long time since any man had made her feel this way, with his touch, his attention, his ability to bring her to the edge of pleasure with just his fingers rather than his dick.

Her body instinctively responded, arching up toward him, urging him on. Taeyong, ever the patient yet focused lover, leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. The soft touch of his lips made her legs tremble, her breath hitching.

He kissed her softly at first, savoring the taste of her skin before moving lower. Then, with a deliberate, almost reverent motion, he lifted her leg and draped it over his shoulder, his lips following the path along her body.

His touch was firm but gentle, his hands holding her securely as he explored every inch of her. His movements were calculated, knowing exactly how to tease, how to please, and how to leave her gasping for more.

Each kiss on her thigh, each press of his fingers, each shift of his body as he maneuvered around her made her heart race, her body surrendering to the rhythm of his touch. There was no rush, only the slow, deliberate build of anticipation, of a moment that would stretch out into something unforgettable.

Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, knuckles white with the intensity of the moment. The fabric bunched beneath her fingers, grounding her in the mess of her own senses.

Her body trembled, not just from the touch of his hands and lips, but from the rising anticipation that seemed to pulse through her veins, making her entire being feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Every touch, every movement from him seemed to heighten that tension, making her heart race faster, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

She was acutely aware of the way his fingers worked, each pump of his fingers bringing her closer. Looking her in the eyes, Taeyong pressed his tongue on her open hole, licking it slowly. Her body responded instinctively, her back arching as she tried to meet his movements, a soft moan slipping past her lips.

Dragging his tongue up, Taeyong flicked her clit gently before wrapping his lips around her little bundle of nerves, sucking it sweetly.

She could feel the heat pooling in her core, the pressure building as he brought her closer and closer to the breaking point.

It was as if time had slowed, the air thick with desire, each passing moment dragging her further into the depths of the pleasure he was giving her.

Taeyong's voice was low, his words dripping with control and seduction as he spoke between kisses and lickes.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and admiring, his breath warm against her skin. “So responsive…I barely have to try, and you’re already trembling for me.”

His hand moved with precision, his fingers exploring her, eliciting soft moans from her lips. “You like this, don’t you?” he asked. “You like how I make you feel…how I know exactly what you need.”

When her body arched into him, her fingers gripping the sheets for dear life, he chuckled softly, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

“I can feel it,” he whispered, his dark eyes locking with hers for a moment. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Let me take you there.”

Her breath hitched as he continued, his words relentless, each one sinking deeper into her mind. “I want to hear you,” he urged, his voice firm but enticing. “Don’t hold back. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

As her moans grew louder, his fingers slowed slightly, his eyes flickering up to meet hers just as his fingers flicked her bundle of nerves. “Not yet,” he said with a sly smile, his tone a mix of command and playful cruelty. “I want to savor this–savor you.”

When she whimpered in protest, her body begging for release, he leaned closer, his lips grazing her ear. “You’ll get what you want,” he promised, his voice soft. “But only when I’m ready to give it to you.”

The tension in her body was almost too much to bear, and he could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she trembled under his touch. “Taeyong.”

“That’s it,” he said, his tone shifting to something even darker, more possessive. “Let go for me. I want all of you–all of this.”

And as his fingers pumped inside her, her body finally succumbed, the overwhelming waves of pleasure taking over, Taeyong’s voice was the last thing she heard, grounding her as she spiraled into bliss.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his words a mix of pride and satisfaction. “You’re mine now, Y/n. Don’t ever forget that.”

Y/n gasped softly at his words, the weight of them settling over her like a velvet chain. Just hours ago, she would have scoffed at the thought of allowing any man to speak to her like that, to claim her with such confidence.

But Taeyong was different. He had a way of dismantling her defenses, one deliberate touch, one seductive word at a time, until she couldn’t help but surrender to him.

His lips captured hers once again, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. The kiss was hot, igniting a fire that spread through her body, leaving her craving more. She couldn’t think beyond the feel of him, the weight of his presence pressing down on her like a promise he fully intended to keep.

Their hands moved in sync, tugging at the fabric that still separated them. His fingers slid over her skin as he stripped her down slowly, as though he was savoring every second. She reciprocated, her hands working to free him of the last barriers between them, her fingertips brushing over the warmth of his skin.

As the final piece of clothing fell away, Taeyong hovered above her, his dark eyes drinking her in as if she were the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a gentleness that contrasted starkly with the intensity in his gaze.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice low, as though he was speaking more to himself than to her.

Y/n’s heart raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing against her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated, designed to make her feel as though the rest of the world had melted away, leaving only the two of them.

Taeyong shifted slightly, his body aligning with hers, his weight grounding her in the moment. “I want all of you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice dripping with possession and promise. “Every part of you, mind, body, and soul.”

And as he claimed her lips once more, Y/n found herself unable to deny him, her own desires tangling with his in a way that felt inevitable, there was no stopping this.

Taeyong didn’t hesitate, positioning himself at her entrance with need, the head of his cock stroking at her enterance. With one deliberate thrust, he sank into her, his body melding with hers as a shared gasp filled the space between them.

His head dropped forward, the pleasure overwhelming in the tension of his muscles and the soft groan that escaped his lips. He pressed a series of tender kisses to her cheek, trailing them down the curve of her jaw and the column of her neck.

His arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her closer as though he couldn’t bear even a whisper of distance between them. Slowly, he began to move, sliding in and out of her in a rhythm that was unhurried but intentional. His pace was steady, each thrust carrying a weight of emotion that should not exist.

It wasn’t rough or fast, it was something else entirely. Intimate, almost romantic in its simplicity. Every movement spoke volumes, as though he was telling her all the things he couldn’t put into words. Y/n felt herself surrendering completely, her body and mind clinging to the moment.

She should have said something, corrected the situation, but she didn’t. She was too lost in the sensation of him, the way he filled her so perfectly, the way his hands caressed her skin as if she were something precious. It was a side of him she hadn’t expected, a gentleness that left her utterly disarmed.

Her hands found their way to his back, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as she clung to him, anchoring herself in the experience. Their breaths mingled, their bodies moving together in a harmony that felt as though it had always been there, waiting to be discovered. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Pulling away from her neck, Taeyong’s gaze locked onto Y/n’s through heavy-lidded eyes, his expression intense. His mouth hung slightly open, each exhale a soft gasp that matched the rhythmic thrusts of his hips. For once, Y/n wasn’t distracted with schemes or distractions. She allowed herself to simply look at him, really look at him.

Every detail came into focus, the little scar just beside his eye, one which had a story all of it’s own, the tiny mole at the corner of his full lips, which were still flushed from their earlier kisses, and those dark, soulful eyes, brimming with emotion even as they bore into hers. He wasn’t just the enigma she had been trying to figure out, he was real, alive, and breathtakingly close.

Almost on instinct, her hand rose to his face, her fingertips brushing against the warmth of his skin. The touch was soft, caring, and it caught him off guard. His eyes fluttered shut, a quiet hum escaping him as he leaned into her palm. His thrusts faltered momentarily, their rhythm breaking as if her touch had thrown him completely off balance.

Encouraged by his reaction, she let her fingers trace along the sharp line of his jaw before threading into his dark hair. She dragged her fingers through the strands slowly, savoring the way his body seemed to respond to her every movement.

“Don’t stop,” Y/n moaned, her voice trembling with a mix of urgency and pleasure.

Taeyong’s eyes opened, intense as he met her gaze again. “I have no intentions of stopping,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

His hips regained their rhythm, but now there was an added edge, a desperation to match her own. His movements became more deliberate, every thrust drawing soft cries from her lips.

The intimacy of the moment wasn’t just physical, it was in the way he looked at her, in the way their bodies moved as if they had been made to fit together.

Y/n felt her heart pounding in her chest, the intensity of his presence surrounding her. For a moment, all of her plans, her worries, and her doubts melted away, leaving only the raw connection between them. And as Taeyong continued to move, his breaths mingling with hers, she knew this moment would linger with her far longer than she’d ever admit.

Taeyong’s movements grew more deliberate, each thrust hitting deeper as his pace quickened, pushing both of them closer to the edge. His grip on Y/n tightened, one hand anchoring her hip as if to hold her in place, the other trailing up to cradle the back of her side, pulling her even closer to him.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure rippled through her, building to an almost unbearable peak. “Taeyong…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, her body arching to meet his every thrust.

“I know,” he rasped, his voice raw and low, his forehead pressed against hers. His eyes flickered shut for a moment before opening again, dark and intense as they bore into hers. “Just hold on, Sweetness. I’ve got you.”

Her legs tightened around him instinctively, her body trembling as her hands clung to his shoulders. The sensations were overwhelming, every stroke of his hips igniting fireworks in her core. Her breaths came faster, mixing with his, their voices rising in unison as the tension between them climbed higher and higher.

Taeyong’s jaw clenched, his brows furrowing as he fought to keep control, though the way her body responded to his every movement was quickly unraveling him. “You feel so good,” he muttered, his words barely coherent, spilling out between deep, ragged breaths.

The sound of his voice, low and commanding yet filled with need, sent a shiver down her spine. Her hands found their way to his hair, tugging lightly as her body trembled beneath him.

“Fuck, I’m close,” she gasped, the confession tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

“Me too,” Taeyong admitted, his voice hoarse, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Cum, pretty girl.”

His words were the final push she needed. Her body tensed beneath him, her back arching as a wave of ecstasy washed over her, pulling her under.

“Taeyong!” her voice shaky and filled with raw emotion, her nails raking across his skin as she clung to him.

The feeling of her unraveling beneath him sent Taeyong over the edge. With one final, deep thrust, he groaned her name in return, his body shuddering as he let himself fall into the pleasure, every nerve ignited by her.

His hot seed filled her inner walls as he held her close, their bodies trembling together as the world seemed to blur around them, leaving only the sound of their breaths mingling in the stillness.

As Taeyong collapsed onto her, his body heavy with exhaustion, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her and rolled over, shifting her onto his chest. The movement made Y/n’s heart skip, her breath catching as she found herself sprawled on top of him. The intimacy of the moment felt almost too much, but his arms held her securely, refusing to let her go.

Taeyong's fingers traced light patterns along her back as they lay there, their breaths gradually evening out. He tilted his head down to look at her face, his expression a mix of smug satisfaction and genuine tenderness.

“See?” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Wasn’t this better?”

Y/n blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“Sober,” he clarified, his lips curling into that cocky smirk she was starting to recognize all too well.

Y/n rolled her eyes, letting out a small scoff. “Eh,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug, though her voice lacked conviction.

Taeyong’s eyes widened in mock offense, his hands tightening slightly around her waist. “Eh?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Really? That’s all you’ve got for me?”

Y/n glanced away, trying to mask the warmth blooming in her chest. She wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, the way his deliberate, steady touch had left her feeling exposed and cared for all at once. It wasn’t like the impulsive encounters she was used to, where there was no time to think, no time to feel.

But this…this had been different. His pace had been deliberate, his touch almost reverent, and for a fleeting moment, it had felt like he was laying her bare in more ways than one. It made her heart ache in a way she didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone admit.

“It was...fine,” she finally said, her tone deliberately flat as she tried to deflect the truth of her emotions.

Taeyong raised a brow, his smirk returning. “Fine, huh? I’m not convinced,” he said, his hand sliding up to tilt her chin so her eyes met his. “You’ve got that look on your face. The one that says you’re trying not to give me too much credit.”

Y/n gave a half-hearted shrug, still determined to keep her composure. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“Or maybe,” Taeyong murmured, his voice dropping as he leaned closer, “you’re just scared to admit you liked it”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she thought about denying it. But the way he was looking at her, with that maddening mix of cockiness and understanding, made her realize he saw right through her. Still, she wasn’t about to let him have the upper hand. It would throw her whole plan out the window.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered, resting her chin on his chest to hide the faint flush creeping up her neck.

Taeyong chuckled softly, his chest rumbling beneath her. “Whatever you say, sweetness,” he teased, pressing a light kiss to her temple. “But we both know the truth, don’t we?”

Y/n didn’t respond, letting the silence settle between them instead. As much as she wanted to brush him off, a part of her couldn’t shake the way her body had felt so in sync with his, or the way her walls, both physical and emotional, had momentarily crumbled under his steady hands.

And that was exactly why she couldn’t let herself fall any deeper. Not yet. Not ever.

As Y/n began to push herself off the bed, Taeyong's arms tightened around her, pulling her back against him with a firm but gentle hold.

“Oh, don’t even think about it,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “You’re staying here tonight.”

She huffed. “I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow, Taeyong.”

He smirked, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “That’s right–stuff with me.”

Y/n turned to look at him, her disbelief plain on her face. “And why exactly should I stay here?”

“Because,” he said, his tone calm but laced with authority, “tomorrow, I’m taking you out. We’re going to get you looking all nice and pretty. If you’re going to be by my side, you’re going to need to look the part.”

Her jaw dropped, a sharp scoff escaping her lips. “Excuse me? That wasn’t part of the arrangement.”

Taeyong met her defiance with an unamused glare, his expression steady and unwavering. “This is exactly the arrangement.”

“No,” she countered, sitting up slightly to emphasize her point. “The arrangement was sex and leave. That’s it.”

Taeyong shifted, propping himself up on his elbows, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a look that made her stomach twist. “It’s whatever I want it to be, and right now, I’ve decided that you’re coming with me tomorrow. No arguments.”

Y/n blinked at him, momentarily stunned by his audacity. She wasn’t used to anyone dictating what she did or didn’t do, and yet here he was, speaking as though his words were law. There was no way she was going to let him boss her around.

“Taeyong,” she began, her voice firm, “I don’t think you understand—”\

He cut her off, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Sweetness,” he said, his tone soft but unyielding, “I always get what I want. And right now, I want you. By my side. End of story.”

Her cheeks flushed, a mix of anger and something she couldn’t quite place bubbling to the surface. She wanted to argue, to push him away and assert her independence. But instead, she found herself staring into those intense eyes, her resolve faltering.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Taeyong’s smirk returned, full of victory. “And you like it,” he teased, leaning in to press a kiss to her shoulder.

Y/n rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

“What’s taking her so damn long?” Taeyong muttered, his irritation evident as he stared out the tinted car window, fingers drumming impatiently on his knee.

Johnny glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his tone calm but slightly amused. “You made her stay the night, knowing she didn’t have any of her own things here. What exactly did you expect?”

Taeyong huffed, his jaw tightening as he leaned back against the plush leather seat. “I expected her to move faster.”

Johnny chuckled under his breath but said nothing more.

The sound of the door opening broke the tension. Y/n slid into the car, her expression a mix of annoyance and feigned composure. She didn’t miss the way Taeyong’s gaze immediately shifted to her, scanning her outfit with a quick, assessing look.

“Ready?” Johnny asked, his voice light as he glanced at her in the mirror.

Y/n nodded, adjusting her bag in her lap. Before she could say a word, Taeyong made a dismissive gesture with his hand, signaling Johnny to drive.

As the car pulled away, Y/n shot a sideways glance at Taeyong. “Impatient much?”

He smirked, leaning closer to her, his voice low and teasing. “I don’t like waiting. But you make it hard to stay mad when you clean up so nicely.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Hmm,” Taeyong replied, a sly grin tugging at his lips as he turned his attention back to the view outside. “You’ll learn to keep up, Sweetness.”

Johnny, catching the exchange in the mirror, shook his head with a small laugh. “You two are something else.”

Y/n shot him a mock glare. “Don’t encourage him.”

Taeyong only chuckled, reaching over to rest a hand casually on her thigh. Y/n stiffened at first but didn’t push him away. Instead, she glanced out the window, a swirl of thoughts clouding her mind. How had she gone from a calculated plan to sitting here, letting this man wrap her into world?

The hum of the engine filled the silence as the city blurred past, the day ahead feeling both unpredictable and inevitable.

She should have known it wouldn’t be a quick trip. This was the third store they’d visited, and poor Johnny’s arms were overflowing with shopping bags. Each time Taeyong picked something out, Johnny accepted it without a word, his expression a mix of patience and resignation.

“Taeyong, are we done yet?” Y/n asked, trailing behind him with a huff.

“Just one more store,” he said dismissively, barely sparing her a glance as he inspected a row of tailored shirts.

Y/n groaned and turned to Johnny, silently pleading for help.

Johnny chuckled, shifting the weight of the bags. “What can I say? He’s the boss.”

With a sigh, Y/n trudged along after Taeyong. The excitement of playing dress-up had long faded, replaced by an acute boredom she could no longer ignore.

As Taeyong lingered over a display of dresses, Y/n’s curiosity got the better of her. Wandering off, she moved toward a different rack of clothes, fingers running over the fabrics.

The soft hum of the store's background music barely registered as she browsed. A particular dress caught her eye, its sleek design and bold color calling out to her. She was about to reach for it when she felt it. The unmistakable weight of someone’s presence behind her.

Turning around, she barely had time to process what was happening before a hand gripped her wrist tightly, yanking her backward. She gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she came face-to-face with a disheveled man.

“You!” he yelled, his voice rough and raw with emotion. “You ruined my life!”

“Let me go!” Y/n demanded, struggling to free herself from his iron grip.

His hair was a wild mess, his face gaunt and drained. Whoever this man had been before, he wasn’t anymore, just a shadow of himself, fueled by anger and desperation.

Before she could react further, the man was suddenly yanked away, his grip on her wrist breaking as he stumbled back. Her breath shook as her eyes darted up to see Johnny, his arm locked firmly around the man’s neck in a hold that left no room for struggle.

Taeyong moved instantly, positioning himself between her and the man, his dark eyes cold and calculating. There were no wasted words, just swift action. Taeyong delivered a sharp punch to the man’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The man groaned, doubling over, but Johnny’s hold kept him upright.

“Take him away,” Taeyong said, his voice low and lethal.

Johnny nodded and hauled the man toward the exit without hesitation, his grip unyielding as the man sputtered curses and weak protests.

Taeyong turned back to Y/n, his gaze softening slightly as it met hers. His hands reached for her shoulders, steadying her. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with concern.

Y/n swallowed hard, trying to compose herself. “I’m fine,” she replied, but her trembling hands and the quiver in her voice betrayed her words.

Taeyong frowned, studying her. “You know this guy?”

“Crazy ex,” she said, but every words was insincere.

Taeyong’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as his gaze flicked to where Johnny had just disappeared with the man. “He won’t come near you again,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Y/n nodded, but her mind was racing. The encounter had rattled her more than she cared to admit, but she couldn’t let Taeyong see that.

She straightened up, forcing a smirk onto her face. “What, scared I’ll bring too much drama into your life?”

Taeyong scoffed, his lips curving into a smirk of his own. “I can handle a little drama. But I don’t share, Sweetness. Remember that.”

Despite his cocky tone, there was something protective in his gaze that made her feel…safe. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but right now, she was glad Taeyong was here.

Taeyong’s mood shifted immediately. “Find something you like?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

“I was just looking,” Y/n replied, her hand returning to the rack.

Taeyong stepped closer, his hand brushing past hers as he took the dress off the rack. He held it up, tilting his head as he studied it. “Try it on.”

Y/n blinked. “What? No, it’s fine. I don’t need–”

“Try it on,” he repeated, more firmly this time, his smirk turning into something dangerously persuasive.

Before she could argue, he gestured toward the fitting rooms. “Go. I’ll wait.”

Y/n hesitated but eventually relented, muttering under her breath as she made her way to the fitting room. Taeyong’s gaze followed her, a satisfied glint in his eyes as he leaned against the nearest display.

Johnny, now having returned, shook his head with a wry smile. “He’s relentless.”

Y/n didn’t expect to see him back so quickly, but was glad to see it was all handled.

“That’s one word for it,” Y/n mumbled as she closed the curtain behind her, already dreading whatever game Taeyong had planned next.

Inside the fitting room, Y/n hung the dress on the hook and stared at it for a moment. It was undeniably beautiful–elegant, sleek, and way too much for what she was used to. She huffed, brushing her hair out of her face as she reluctantly slipped out of her clothes and into the dress.

The fabric hugged her frame perfectly, the kind of fit that made her wonder how Taeyong could have possibly picked it out so easily.

“Y/n,” his voice called out from outside, smooth and teasing. “Don’t take all day. We’ve got more stores to hit.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “Pushy,” she muttered as she adjusted the straps.

Taking a steadying breath, she pulled back the curtain. Taeyong was waiting, his arms crossed, an easy smirk on his lips that only grew when he saw her.

He stepped forward, his gaze trailing from her head to toe. “Now that,” he said, his voice low and approving, “is exactly what I was picturing.”

Y/n crossed her arms, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. “It’s a dress, Taeyong, not a miracle.”

“It’s not just the dress,” Taeyong said, stepping closer until there was almost no space between them. “It’s you. You make it look better than it ever did on that rack.”

Johnny, standing nearby with his arms full of bags, chuckled. “Smooth.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at Johnny before turning her attention back to Taeyong. “Yeah, okay.”

Taeyong grinned, pleased with himself. “Good. And don’t think this is the last one.”

Y/n sighed dramatically. “Of course it isn’t.”

As she stepped back into the fitting room to change, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the compliments or the way the dress fit–it was the way Taeyong looked at her. Like she was the center of the world, even if just for a moment.

Whatever game he was playing, she was starting to feel like she wasn’t as in control as she thought. And that both thrilled and terrified her.

The shopping trip, while exhausting, turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Y/n found herself laughing more than she expected, teasing Johnny about his endless patience and rolling her eyes at Taeyong’s insistent choices. It wasn’t her usual idea of fun, but there was something charming about the dynamic between the three of them.

As Johnny drove the car through the evening traffic, Y/n leaned back in her seat, ready to finally head home and call it a day. But when she noticed the familiar streets leading back to Taeyong's place instead of her own, she straightened up, a sigh escaping her lips.

"Seriously?" she asked, turning to glare at Taeyong.

He remained infuriatingly calm, his gaze focused out the window like nothing was amiss. "Relax," he said smoothly, barely sparing her a glance. "Just for dinner."

"Just for dinner?" she repeated, eyebrows raised. "You said that last time, and look where I ended up."

Taeyong smirked, leaning slightly toward her. "And you’re still alive, aren’t you? Thriving, even."

Y/n crossed her arms, her lips pursed. “I have my own place, you know. A perfectly good one that I’d like to go back to.”

Johnny chuckled from the driver’s seat, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth. “You might as well stop fighting, Y/n. He always gets his way.”

"Thanks, Johnny," she muttered sarcastically, though she couldn’t entirely suppress the small smile threatening to tug at her lips.

As the car pulled into the driveway, Taeyong turned to her, his expression softer now but still holding that undeniable authority. "Come on."

Y/n sighed dramatically, but as much as she hated to admit it, she was curious. Dinner with Taeyong always came with strings, ones she couldn’t quite figure out but found herself tugging on anyway.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "But if this turns into another impromptu all-nighter, I’m charging you for my time."

Taeyong grinned, stepping out of the car and offering his hand to her. "Worth every cent."

Y/n arched an eyebrow, tilting her head as she glanced at Taeyong. “You know, for a mafia boss, you don’t seem to do much…you know, crime,” she teased, her tone light but curious.

Taeyong’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though his eyes stayed serious. “That’s intentional,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “I keep you away from all of it.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. “It’s that easy?”

His gaze softened as he leaned back, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his glass. “No…However, I don’t want you involved. You’re not meant for that world, Y/n. I’ll handle the darkness. You just…stay in the light.”

The weight of his words settled between them, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. But beneath his calm demeanor, she could feel the protectiveness in his tone, the lengths he was willing to go to shield her from whatever shadows trailed behind him.

Y/n crossed her arms, leaning closer. “You can’t just keep me in the dark forever, Taeyong. You might think you’re protecting me, but I should at least know what I’m being kept safe from. You’re the one that forced me into your life..”

Taeyong’s jaw tightened slightly, his expression unreadable. “Knowing doesn’t make it easier. Trust me.”

Her lips parted, ready to argue, but his hand reached out, brushing against hers, silencing her with the smallest touch. “I’d burn the whole world down before I let anything touch you…it’s the least I can do,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute.

Y/n swallowed, her heart skipping a beat. It should never skip a beat. "Taeyong..."

“Let me protect you, Y/n. That’s all I’m asking,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto hers, a silent plea hidden in their depths.

As the car pulled up to Taeyong's grand mansion, Y/n stepped out, her eyes scanning the lavish property with a mix of awe and exasperation. Before she could say anything, she noticed Johnny standing by the front door, casually leaning against the frame with a knowing smirk.

“That is a quick man, you know,” Y/n said, glancing back at Taeyong.

Taeyong chuckled as he casually adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. “Johnny’s efficient. I don’t keep him around just for his charming personality.”

Johnny straightened up, giving Y/n a small wave. “That’s just a perk,” he teased. “Come on, dinner’s ready. You don’t want the food getting cold.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, dinner’s already ready?”

Taeyong didn’t respond immediately, simply gesturing for her to head inside. As they walked through the grand entrance, the scent of freshly prepared food filled the air, enticing her in.

“Of course, I had it prepared,” Taeyong finally said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I knew you’d come back here with me.”

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head. “The arrogance.”

Johnny chuckled from behind her. “He calls it confidence.”

They entered the dining room, where an elegant spread of dishes awaited them. Candles flickered softly on the table, the setup far too extravagant for what Y/n had assumed would be a casual dinner. Her eyes widened as she took it all in.

“This is…a lot,” she muttered, glancing at Taeyong.

He smirked, pulling out a chair for her. “Nothing’s too much when it comes to you.”

Johnny, rolled his eyes playfully. “Here we go again.”

Y/n sat down reluctantly, feeling oddly out of place amidst the opulence. Taeyong took his seat at the head of the table, pouring her a glass of wine without asking. The air between them was oddly calm, though she could sense Taeyong’s ever-present dominance in the way he carried himself.

As they started eating, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “So, do you always have your mansion stocked for unexpected guests, or am I just special?”

Taeyong looked up from his plate, his smirk deepening. “What do you think?”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “I think you have too much time on your hands.”

Johnny gave her a wink. “Welcome to Taeyong’s world.”

Y/n glanced at Johnny with a smile. “Eat with us.”

Johnny hesitated, his eyes flicking to Taeyong for permission. Taeyong gave a subtle nod, his expression unreadable but unmistakably commanding. Without another word, Johnny pulled out a chair and sat down beside Taeyong, resuming his role as the ever-loyal right-hand man, even in moments like this.

For a moment, surrounded by laughter and good food, the tension of their usual power dynamic eased, replaced by something almost…normal.

But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just another move in Taeyong’s carefully calculated game. And yet, for reasons she didn’t want to admit, she didn’t mind playing along.

The trip back to his bed had been inevitable. The sex was good–annoyingly good, Y/n admitted to herself–and just as frustratingly sappy as the last time. As she lay sprawled on the bed, her body still buzzing, she forced herself to recover quickly. Pushing herself upright, she began gathering her clothes and belongings from the floor.

Taeyong remained laying against the pillows, his sharp eyes following her every movement. He didn’t bother hiding the small flicker of irritation that flashed across his face. She was leaving again. Of course, she was. She had stayed longer than either of them originally intended, but despite his best efforts to remain indifferent, the ache in his chest grew stronger every time she walked out the door.

Taeyong wasn’t a man who let people linger in his life unnecessarily. He was a mob boss, hardened and sharp-edged. He didn’t need anyone. But damn it, he wanted her.

“Come back to bed,” he said smoothly, his hand grazing the empty space beside him. “Stay for a bit.”

Y/n turned, one brow arched, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Seriously? I’ve already overstayed my welcome. The night and half the day.”

“Thirty minutes,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “That’s all.”

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. “Thirty minutes...and twenty bucks.”

The corner of Taeyong’s lips twitched into a grin. “That’s all I ask.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at her mouth as she begrudgingly trudged back to the bed. With a dramatic sigh, she flopped onto the mattress, letting Taeyong’s arms wrap around her.

He pulled her close without hesitation, settling himself on top of her like she was the one thing keeping him grounded. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent like he was memorizing it.

Y/n let her fingers drift lazily through his hair, her other hand tracing random patterns across his bare back.

He didn’t say it, but the truth was in his every touch and glance: thirty minutes with her would never feel like enough.

It was in this moment, as her intoxicating scent filled his lungs and her touch seared against his skin, that the realization struck him with the force of a tidal wave, she was bad for him. The worst kind of bad. The kind that crept in under his skin, clawing its way into places he didn’t even know existed.

And yet, he couldn’t pull away from her. Wouldn’t, even if he could.

Maybe it was the way her presence unbalanced him, shifting his carefully constructed world. Maybe it was the way she could make him feel powerful–like the mob boss her was–with just a glance. Or how, in the next breath, she could render him utterly powerless, every sharp edge of his control dulled by her.

He hated it. He craved it.

Her soft, teasing voice broke the comfortable silence. “Taeyong...you know I was only joking about the money, right?”

He scoffed, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “There’s no way I’m letting you leave empty-handed.”

“You’ve already bought me a fuck load of clothes,” Y/n retorted, rolling her eyes, though a small smile betrayed her amusement.

“Shh,” Taeyong murmured, pressing a finger gently to her lips before laying back against her, his weight comforting rather than overwhelming.

“Taeyong,” she sighed, though she lacked protest.

“Shh!” he said, his voice muffled as he nuzzled into her neck. “Just let me spoil you a little longer.”

Y/n couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her. He was impossible, but somehow, that was part of the charm. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Now that Y/n had stepped into Taeyong’s world, she had every intention of taking advantage of his status. The power, wealth, and influence that came with being the boss of a mafia empire was hard to ignore. She wasn’t naive, she knew what his position meant and what doors it could open.

At first, she didn’t care for it, a mans status meant nothing to her, a man was just fun for her. However, Taeyong was something entirely different, he was relentless. The expensive clothes, the meals, the protection, it was all given for free, but somehow worked in her favor, and she made sure to stay just within the bounds of what he’d willingly offer without suspicion.

Today was no different.

The phone rang and Y/n was quick to grab it, slipping into her usual professional tone. "Avalon Bakery, how can I help you?"

"By finishing early and getting ready," came the unmistakable voice on the other end.

She froze for a moment, her breath catching. "Taeyong," she said, masking the flutter in her chest. "Calling me at work now? Really?"

"Doesn’t matter where I call," he replied smoothly. "I’m having one of my men come pick you up. I want you to have dinner."

Y/n leaned her hip against the counter, rolling her eyes. "Another fancy dinner? You're spoiling me," she teased, though the warmth in her tone betrayed her amusement.

"Not quite," Taeyong said. "I won’t be there this time."

Her brow furrowed at his words. "Then what’s the point?"

Taeyong sighed softly on the other end of the line. "I wanted to take you myself, but I’m stuck with work tonight. Still, I don’t want you going home without a good meal. Call it...my way of taking care of you."

Y/n blinked, her chest tightening unexpectedly. The sincerity in his voice was something she wasn’t used to.

"Well..." she hesitated, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you. That’s...sweet."

There was a pause, the faintest chuckle coming through the receiver. "Don’t read into it too much, Doll. Just be ready to be picked up."

Y/n laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"And yet, you’ll go," he said, his confidence palpable. "See you soon."

As the call ended, Y/n found herself staring at the phone, her heart beating faster than she cared to admit. It wasn’t just the gesture, it was the way Taeyong made her feel like she mattered, even when he wasn’t there.

With a sigh, she shook off the thoughts swirling in her head and got back to work, already feeling a strange anticipation for the night ahead.

It wasn’t long before the soft hum of a car engine broke the evening silence. Y/n glanced out the window, immediately recognizing it as her ride, no one else would be pulling up this late.

A small smile graced her lips as the door to the bakery opened, but the figure stepping in wasn’t who she expected. Instead of Johnny’s familiar face, this man was different. His longer hair framed sharp features, and his piercing gaze darted around the cozy interior of the bakery, scanning every detail.

Before Y/n could speak, his eyes landed on her, his voice steady and direct. "Taeyong sent me to take you to dinner."

“Oh, of course,” she said, straightening up. “Let me grab my things and close up.”

As Y/n moved around the bakery, switching off the lights and tidying up, the man stood in the corner, hands in his pockets, his sharp eyes still roaming the space. She locked up the doors, double-checking everything before turning back to him.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone carrying a professional coolness.

“Yeah, all set,” Y/n replied with a nod.

He led her to the car parked outside, his movements efficient and confident. Pulling the door open for her, he gestured for her to get in.

“Thank you,” she said politely, sliding into the back seat.

He closed the door and rounded the car, slipping into the driver’s seat with practiced ease. The engine purred to life as he set off, the city lights reflecting off the window.

“May I ask your name?” Y/n ventured, curiosity piqued.

“Yuta,” he replied, his voice calm as he glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

“Well, nice to meet you, Yuta. I’ve never had anyone but Johnny pick me up before,” she said, trying to make conversation.

“Johnny’s tied up with Taeyong tonight,” Yuta explained. “Work. So, you’ve got me this time.”

Y/n nodded, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her bag. There was something about Yuta’s demeanor, cool and composed, that reminded her of Taeyong in a way, yet distinctly different.

“Do you always run errands like this for him?” she asked, half-teasing but genuinely curious.

Yuta’s lips curved into the faintest smirk. “Not always, but when it’s important and he’s with Johnny, I’m the one he calls.”

His response stirred something in her. Important? Y/n looked out the window, the lights of the city blurring past. The thought of Taeyong going out of his way for her again made her chest tighten, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Well,” she said softly, glancing back at him, “I appreciate it.”

Yuta nodded, his sharp gaze flickering toward her briefly before returning to the road. “He’s good like that. You’ll see.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air as they continued toward her destination, the car filled with a mix of quiet anticipation and unspoken thoughts.

As the car pulled up to what she assumed was the restaurant, Y/n sank further into her seat, her fingers brushing over the flour smudges on her work clothes.

“I can’t go in there looking like this,” she muttered, her voice laced with unease as she glanced down at her bakery-stained attire.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Yuta replied, his tone dismissive but calm.

Y/n shook her head, almost pleading now. “I have better clothes at home. I can change, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Nonsense,” Yuta said firmly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead as he put the car in park.

“Nothing to worry about. Besides, if anyone has a problem with you tonight…” He paused briefly, stepping closer to her to whisper. “…Taeyong’s instructed me to shoot them.”

The casual delivery of his words hit Y/n like a cold wave. She blinked at him, stunned, her mind scrambling to process what he’d just said.

“Excuse me?” she managed to say, her voice in disbelief.

Yuta finally turned to look at her, his expression calm. “You heard me.”

And just like that, she was reminded, this world Taeyong lived in, the one he so easily pulled her into, wasn’t just about expensive dinners and extravagant gestures. It came with an edge of violence, the kind she rarely let herself think about.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “You’re joking…right?”

Yuta’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

Y/n turned away, her gaze fixed out the window now. Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear exactly, but from the sudden, sobering reminder of the kind of man Taeyong really was, and the people he surrounded himself with.

She forced a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. “Well, let’s hope no one has a problem with me, then.”

Yuta chuckled softly as he opened his door and stepped out. “They won’t. Taeyong doesn’t give anyone the chance.”

Yuta was a lot more casual and out-spoken than Johnny, that much she noticed. As he rounded the car to open her door, Y/n couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words, and of the evening ahead.

Yuta opened the door for her, his sharp eyes scanning the street as she stepped out of the car. Y/n adjusted her jacket self-consciously, still painfully aware of her flour-streaked clothes.

The restaurant loomed ahead, warm lights and understated elegance, a clear step above the casual spots she was used to. She hesitated at the entrance, her nerves getting the better of her, but Yuta placed a steady hand on the small of her back, urging her forward.

“Relax,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “You belong here.”

Y/n let out a small, uneasy laugh. “Easy for you to say. You don’t look like you’ve been beat up by a bag of flour.”

Yuta smirked, opening the heavy wooden door for her. “Trust me, no one will care. And if they do, well…you know my orders.”

She rolled her eyes but stepped inside, immediately greeted by the soft hum of conversation and the clink of glasses. The atmosphere was warm and intimate, the kind of place where people came to impress or celebrate. Y/n’s stomach twisted as she caught sight of women in sleek dresses and men in tailored suits.

“I stick out like a shit stain,” she whispered to Yuta, glancing around.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said simply, his tone dismissive as he gave a brief nod to the waiter at the entrance.

The man behind the podium straightened immediately, his eyes darting between Yuta and Y/n. “Right this way,” he said, his voice tinged with a nervous politeness.

Yuta gestured for Y/n to follow, his hand lingering at her back as they were led to a secluded table near the rear of the restaurant. The soft glow of a single candle lit the table, the surrounding booths providing just enough privacy to make it feel like they were the only ones there.

As Yuta pulled out her chair for her, Y/n couldn’t help but glance around, still feeling out of place. “This is way too fancy for someone who smells like cinnamon rolls,” she muttered under her breath.

Yuta chuckled as he took the seat across from her. “Then you’re in luck. Everyone loves cinnamon rolls.”

Despite herself, Y/n smiled, though the knot in her chest refused to loosen entirely. She still didn’t quite understand why Taeyong had gone through all this trouble for her, especially if he wasn’t even going to be here.

But as the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine and two glasses, she decided to let herself enjoy the night, pushing her unease aside. After all, it wasn’t every day she was treated like royalty.

“Order whatever you want, Taeyong’s paying,” Yuta said casually, leaning back in his chair as he glanced around the restaurant, always observant.

Y/n stared down at the menu, her brow furrowing as she scanned the intricate dishes with names she couldn’t even pronounce.

“Bloody hell,” she said under her breath, setting the menu down. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

Yuta raised an eyebrow. “I’m not eating,” he said flatly.

Y/n tilted her head, surprised. “Why not?”

“It’s your dinner,” he replied.

She frowned, crossing her arms over the table. “Well, I don’t want to eat alone. That’s awkward.”

Yuta’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he said nothing, clearly unconvinced.

“And besides…” she added with a sly smile, “Taeyong’s paying.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gave in. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Maybe,” she teased, leaning back in her chair.

“Well, when you put it like that…” Yuta flagged down the waiter with a smooth gesture, ordering for the both of them.

He didn’t even glance at the menu, rattling off two dishes with the kind of confidence that suggested he’d been here more than a few times before.

As the waiter walked away, Y/n couldn’t help but grin. “You seem to know this place pretty well. Do you bring people here often?”

Yuta shrugged, his sharp gaze flicking back to her. “Not exactly. Taeyong’s got a few go-to spots. This just happens to be one of them.”

Y/n leaned her chin on her hand, studying him for a moment. “So, do you always play chauffeur slash dinner companion, or am I just special?”

“You’re definitely special,” he said, his tone dry but not without a hint of amusement. “I don’t usually get roped into this kind of thing…come to think of it…this thing doesn’t happen…ever.”

She chose not to think on the second part too much. “Roped in, huh?” she said, feigning offense. “Am I that much of a burden?”

Yuta smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Not yet. Let’s see how the night goes.”

Y/n laughed softly, the earlier tension in her chest starting to ease. For all his sharp edges and serious demeanor, Yuta wasn’t as intimidating as she’d first thought. She might even enjoy his company tonight, if she could keep herself from thinking too much about Taeyong.

The waiter returned with their drinks, setting down two whiskey on the rocks. She raised her eyebrow at his choice for the two of them.

“Whiskey? Seems a little intense for a dinner companion,” she teased.

“Gotta stay sharp,” Yuta replied, lifting the glass to his lips. “You never know when someone might need shooting, remember?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, a soft laugh escaping her lips despite herself. “Right, because that’s such a normal part of dinner.”

Yuta’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t say more. Instead, his gaze flicked briefly over the room, scanning as if it were second nature. Y/n watched him curiously, noticing the way his shoulders remained relaxed yet ready, a quiet confidence radiating off of him.

“Do you ever just...turn it off?” she asked after a moment, her voice quieter now.

“Turn what off?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely at him, “the whole...hyper-vigilant, sharp-eyed, ‘I could kill a man if I needed to’ vibe.”

Yuta chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Not really. Comes with the job.”

She studied him for a moment, sipping her wine. “You seem so calm about it all. Doesn’t it ever get to you?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral. “You get used to it. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t weigh on you sometimes. But that’s not something I’d bring to dinner.”

His honesty surprised her. She didn’t expect someone in his line of work to talk so openly, or to show even the slightest hint of vulnerability.

Before she could ask anything else, the waiter arrived with their meals, carefully placing the plates in front of them. The food looked even more extravagant up close, and Y/n stared at the dish in front of her, wondering if she should have just asked for something simpler.

“Trust me, it’s good,” Yuta said, picking up his utensils.

She glanced at him, then took a cautious bite. Her eyes widened in surprise as the flavors hit her. “Damn, that is good.”

“Told you,” he said, smirking as he started eating.

They ate in relative silence for a while, the clinking of silverware and the hum of conversation from other tables filling the space between them. But Y/n couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, thoughts of Taeyong creeping in despite her best efforts to keep them at bay.

Yuta seemed to notice her distraction. “You’re thinking about him,” he said matter-of-factly, not looking up from his plate.

Her fork froze mid-air, and she blinked at him. “What?”

“Taeyong,” he said simply, setting his utensil down and meeting her gaze. “You’ve got that look. Like you’re trying not to think about him, but you can’t help it.”

“What the fuck,” Y/n said, shocked, placing her fork down as well. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me? Yeah.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“I don’t expect anything,” Yuta said, his voice calm but firm. “But if you’ve got something on your mind, maybe it’s better to deal with it now instead of letting it eat at you later.”

His words struck a chord, and for a moment, Y/n wasn’t sure how to respond. She wasn’t used to people like Yuta, people who seemed to see right through her defenses without trying.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her tone softer.

“Good,” he said, returning to his food as if the conversation hadn’t happened.

Y/n picked up her fork again, but the weight in her chest lingered, making each bite harder to swallow.

As the plates were cleared and the check discreetly handled, no doubt charged directly to Taeyong, Y/n leaned back in her chair, sipping the last of her drink. The evening had been unexpectedly pleasant, though her mind was still clouded with thoughts she couldn’t shake.

“Ready to head out?” Yuta asked, standing and adjusting his jacket.

She nodded, smoothing her hands over her flour-streaked clothes as she got up. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Yuta led the way out of the restaurant, holding the door open for her as they stepped into the cool night air. The city buzzed softly around them, streetlights casting a gentle glow on the pavement.

“You’re quiet,” Yuta remarked as they made their way to the car.

Y/n glanced at him, offering a faint smile. “Just tired, I guess.”

He hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t press further. They reached the sleek black car parked along the curb, and Yuta moved to open the passenger door for her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, slipping into the seat.

Yuta closed the door and rounded the car, hopping into the driver’s side. He started the car and merged into traffic.

The drive was quiet, the faint sound of the radio filling the space between them. Y/n stared out the window, watching the city blur past.

Her mind kept drifting, tugged in different directions, Taeyong, this unusual dinner, Yuta’s unexpected insight.

“You sure you’re okay?” Yuta asked after a while, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just...a lot on my mind.”

“Figured,” he said simply, his tone neutral but not rude.

They pulled up in front of her building, and Yuta shifted the car into park. He turned slightly to look at her, his sharp eyes softening just a fraction.

“Get some rest, Y/n,” he said.

She offered him a small smile. “Thanks for tonight, Yuta. Really.”

He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t mention it. Just doing what I’m told.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped her. With one last glance, she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly against the pavement.

As she walked to the door, she felt Yuta’s eyes on her, protective rather than invasive. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, it made her feel...safe.

The car pulled away as soon as she entered the building, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more. The weight of everything, Taeyong, the evening, and everything in between pressed against her chest.

Y/n sighed, leaning against the elevator wall as she rode up to her apartment. Tonight had been different, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. But one thing was certain, the lines she thought she’d drawn were blurring more than ever.

When Y/n finally reached her apartment, the familiar click of the door behind her brought a brief sense of relief. She dropped her bag on the counter, kicked off her shoes, and padded into the dimly lit space.

She had just flopped onto the couch, when her phone began to ring. She could already guess who was calling her.

“Hello Taeyong,” Y/n answered.

“Did you have dinner?” Taeyong’s voice came through, calm yet commanding in its usual way.

“Yeah, Yuta made sure I enjoyed the whole night,” she replied.

“Good,” he said. “What did you think of the restaurant?”

“It was...fancy,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “The kind of place I’d never go to on my own.”

“That’s the point,” Taeyong said smoothly. “I wanted you to have something nice tonight, even if I wasn’t there.”

Y/n leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. It felt...unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” His tone shifted slightly, laced with amusement. “It’s not unnecessary to take care of you, Y/n.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, and she swallowed hard. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

A pause hung between them. She could almost picture him, leaned back in his chair, that ever-calm expression on his face as he waited for her to say more.

“Yuta said you were caught up with work,” she ventured, her voice quieter now.

“I was,” Taeyong replied, his tone shifting to something softer. “But I would’ve been there if I could. You know that, right?”

She pressed her lips together, her chest tightening. “I know.”

“Good.” There was a pause, and then his voice dropped just a fraction. “I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?”

Y/n’s fingers gripped the edge of the couch cushion. “Maybe,” she said, trying to sound playful, but it came out weaker than she intended.

Taeyong chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “Get some rest, Y/n.”

“You too,” she said softly before ending the call.

She set the phone down beside her and exhaled, her heart racing. The warmth of his words lingered, mixing with a growing sense of unease she couldn’t shake.

Why did his care feel so heavy? Why did his voice make her chest ache?

For the first time in a long while, Y/n felt conflicted, unsure of what tomorrow might bring.

Y/n told herself it was just a game, a mutually beneficial arrangement where she could enjoy the perks without getting too deeply involved. But somewhere along the line, her plans began to unravel. Taeyong wasn’t the cold, ruthless kingpin she expected. Beneath his sharp exterior was a man who didn’t just have power but a man with complicated emotions.

The problem was, Taeyong wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind to her intentions. Every time he handed her something, another shopping bag, a lingering look, a smirk that felt he knew far more than he let on, she felt like she was being pulled deeper into his world, not the other way around. But surely it was all just in her head, he couldn’t possibly know her end goal.

Y/n hated how much she enjoyed the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered, how he cared in a way no one else had, even if it was wrapped in arrogance and dominance.

Still, a part of her clung to her original plan, reminding herself why she had stepped into his arms in the first place. She couldn’t let herself forget her plans.

That’s why she had to pull back. The lines were blurring too quickly, and the space between them was shrinking with every encounter. What had started as an arrangement, vague and undefined, had spiraled into something else entirely.

The once-a-week meetings became twice a week, then four times. She’d even spent an entire week at his place without leaving once. The routine, the comfort, the magnetic pull of his presence, it was suffocating in its intimacy, and Y/n hated it. Hated how easy it was to fall into his rhythm, how natural it felt to be around him.

It wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t supposed to get comfortable, and neither was he. Yet here they were, teetering on a dangerous edge, and Y/n knew she had to stop it before it went too far.

So, she pulled away. Ignored the calls she knew would come, each one more persistent than the last. The familiar ring of her phone became a reminder of her resolve, a battle against her own instincts. The missed calls and voicemails stacked up, but Y/n didn’t answer. She refused to.

Until it was 2 a.m. and the silence of the night was broken by the insistent ring of her phone again. This time, the sound wasn’t just a distraction, it was relentless, demanding her attention.

Y/n sighed, not having to answer to know who it was. She knew she shouldn’t answer, knew that picking up would only draw her back in. But the stubborn resolve that had kept her away all day now wavered under the weight of the hour, the quiet, and the undeniable pull he had on her.

She picked up the phone, her voice steady but her heart racing. “What?” she said, trying to sound annoyed, even indifferent.

On the other end, there was a moment of silence, and then his voice, low, rough, and undeniably him, cut through. “Open your door, Y/n.”

Her breath hitched. He wasn’t asking. He was here. Frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear as her mind raced.

He’s here? At my door?

“Taeyong, it’s two in the morning,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “What are you doing here?”

“Open the door and find out,” he replied, calm but with an unmistakable edge to his tone.

She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sure, she wanted to keep him desperate, but she thought he had more dignity than this. And yet, here he was, as relentless as ever.

“Go home, Taeyong,” she said, trying to sound firm, but the slight waver in her voice betrayed her.

“I don’t think so.” His voice was steady, laced with quiet authority. “Not until we talk. Now open the door before I shoot it open.”

Y/n froze, her pulse quickening as his words sank in. A gun?

The Taeyong she knew, the one who had always promised to keep his business far away from her world, was now standing on the other side of her door, threatening to shoot it open. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding. Was he serious? She wanted to believe he was bluffing, but with Taeyong, she could never be sure.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of her phone. This wasn’t the deal, they had boundaries, rules to keep her safe, to keep his dangerous life from bleeding into hers. And now, those promises felt like nothing more than empty words.

Forcing herself to breathe, Y/n pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm the rapid thud of her heart. She couldn’t think clearly, not when the image of him standing there with a gun flashed in her mind. He’s never done this before. Why now?

Sighing shakily, she hung up the call and hesitated, her feet rooted to the floor. Every step toward the door felt heavier than the last, dread coiling in her stomach.

“Taeyong,” she said, her voice cracking as she stood on the other side. “You promised…You swore you’d keep this kind of thing away from me.”

His reply came calm, but unyielding. “And I have. But you’ve been ignoring me, Y/n. What did you expect me to do? Wait forever?”

Her hands shook as she unlocked the door, her fingers fumbling on the latch. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before pulling it open just enough to see him standing there, his expression unreadable but his presence suffocating.

He wasn’t holding a gun, but the weight of his words, and the implications, was enough to make her knees feel weak. His hands in his pockets, the faint glow of a nearby streetlight highlighting the sharp lines of his face. He looked calm, collected, but his eyes told a different story.

“What the hell are you doing, Taeyong?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “What I have to. Ignoring me. Avoiding my calls. Acting like you can just disappear after everything. Now let me in.”

Her grip tightened on the door, but she didn’t open it further. “I needed a little space...time for myself”

“Space?” He tilted his head, a humorless smile playing on his lips. “You had no problem being close when it suited you. So tell me, Y/n, what changed?”

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing personal.”

“It’s always personal,” Taeyong said, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “Especially with us.”

Y/n felt a lump rise in her throat. He wasn’t wrong. It had always been personal, even when she tried to convince herself otherwise.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice firmer now, though her heart ached with every word. “We’re not doing this right now, Taeyong.”

He took a step closer, forcing her to either meet his eyes or retreat. “Why not?” he asked, his voice low and cutting.

“Because it’s 2 in the morning!” Y/n snapped, her voice laced with frustration and exhaustion.

“You’re going to answer me,” Taeyong demanded, his tone firm, unwavering.

“I have!” she shot back, her words sharp and biting. “I needed some time to myself. I’ve been staying over with you for days! I haven’t even been going to work! It’s supposed to be a once a week arrangement!”

“Hey, I make the rules,” Taeyong countered, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of power and control.

“Exactly, you made those rules!” Y/n exclaimed, her hands flying up in exasperation.

“So I can change them whenever I want,” he replied smoothly, as if his logic was irrefutable. “So why are you ignoring me?”

Y/n groaned, running a hand through her hair, her patience hanging by a thread. “Oh my god, I’ve just told you already!”

“Well, it’s bullshit!” Taeyong shot back, his voice rising with the heat of his frustration.

Her jaw dropped, her disbelief palpable. “...Are you kidding me right now?”

Taeyong stepped closer, his presence filling the doorway, his frustration matching hers. “You’re avoiding me for no reason. If you think I’m just going to sit back and take that, you don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, I know you,” Y/n retorted, crossing her arms. “I know you’re used to getting your way, but newsflash, Taeyong, I’m not one of your men, and I’m definitely not one of your rules to bend and break whenever you feel like it.”

His eyes narrowed, his frustration momentarily giving way to something unreadable. “You’re more than that,” he said quietly, his voice losing some of its edge. “Now, just let me in.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and tried to push the door closed, hoping to end the argument then and there. But she should have known better, Taeyong wasn’t someone who took no for an answer.

With a swift shove of his shoulder, Taeyong forced the door open, the momentum knocking Y/n off balance and sending her to the floor. Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened in alarm. She instinctively pulled her knees to her chest, her arms coming up defensively as if to shield herself from whatever was about to happen.

Taeyong stepped inside, his presence darker and more intimidating than she had ever seen. He didn’t even glance down at her as he closed the door behind him with a heavy click.

“Sit,” he commanded, pointing to the couch with an authority that sent a chill through her.

Y/n scrambled to her feet, her breath shaky as she hurried to the couch, her heart pounding in her chest. She sat, her hands gripping her knees, trying to steady herself. Taeyong took a seat on the coffee table directly in front of her, leaning forward, his gaze piercing. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between anger and something far more complicated.

Her wide, glassy eyes met his hard stare, and she felt smaller than she ever had before.

“Now listen here, Y/n,” Taeyong began, his voice low but firm, leaving no room for argument or interruption. “You and I are going to bed. We’re going to sleep. And in the morning, you have a choice. You can either tell me what’s going on, or you can keep quiet, and we’ll go on with our arrangement.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Y/n opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it, unsure of what to say. The Taeyong she was used to, the teasing, smug, and occasionally overbearing man, was gone. In his place was someone unrelenting, someone who made it clear he wasn’t leaving without some kind of resolution.

She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she finally whispered, “Taeyong...you promised you wouldn’t bring your world to me.”

He leaned closer, his jaw tightening. “And I haven’t. But don’t think for a second that I’ll let you push me out of yours.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/n’s chest tightened as she tried to process his words, the weight of his intensity settling heavily in the room. For the first time, she was scared and unsure of what to do.

Taeyong rose from his seat on the coffee table, his movements deliberate and calm, but the tension in the air was still thick. Without a word, he turned and walked toward her bedroom, his posture tall, as if he had already decided the night’s outcome.

Y/n remained frozen on the couch for a moment, watching him disappear down the hallway. Her heart pounded in her chest, still reeling from the events of the last few minutes. Slowly, she stood and followed after him, her steps hesitant, her mind racing with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite untangle.

When she reached the bedroom, Taeyong was already unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. His back muscles flexed with each movement, his calm demeanor unnerving her more than any words he could have said.

He slid off his pants next, leaving him in just a pair of boxers. He climbed into bed, pulling the covers up and leaning back against the headboard, watching her with a silent intensity that made her skin prickle.

Y/n hesitated in the doorway, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The weight of his gaze was heavy, but she knew better than to defy him now. Sighing softly, she climbed into bed beside him.

As soon as she was under the covers, Taeyong shifted, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to his chest. His warmth enveloped her, and she stiffened, her body still tense from the confrontation earlier.

Taeyong pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering for a moment before he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing now, a stark contrast to the authority he had wielded earlier.

Y/n swallowed hard, her body rigid against his. She wanted to relax, to let the comfort of his embrace wash over her, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Every moment of the night replayed in her head, his words, his presence, the way he had barged into her space and taken control so effortlessly.

Taeyong’s breathing evened out behind her, his arms still securely wrapped around her. He was already slipping into sleep, but Y/n lay wide awake, her heart still racing. Her mind churned with questions and doubts, her chest heavy with emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, but it didn’t come so easily. The night stretched on, the sound of Taeyong’s steady breaths a stark reminder of how deeply he had entrenched himself in her life.

Morning arrived faster than Y/n had hoped, a cruel reminder of the decision she had to make, to speak up or remain silent. The weight of the night before lingered heavily in the air, and her chest felt tight with the pressure of it all.

As she tried to slip out of Taeyong’s grasp, his arms instinctively tightened around her before releasing her. His eyes opened, sharp and alert, as if he had been awake all along.

“Ready to talk, are we?” Taeyong’s voice was smooth, but there was an edge that made her stomach twist.

Y/n didn’t respond. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her legs dangling as she stared blankly at the floor.

“No?” he pressed, the silence stretching. “Well then, I’ll send a car for you after five. Be ready.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, moving to where his clothes were draped over the chair. Y/n’s gaze flickered toward him, careful not to linger too long, but she couldn’t help but watch as he got dressed.

It was when he slipped on his pants and shirt that she saw it, her breath hitched. He picked up a shoulder holster and secured it around himself, the dark leather stark against his crisp white shirt. Her heart leapt, the realization crashing over her like a tidal wave.

The gun nestled in the holster was no empty threat. His words from the night before weren’t just bluffs, he meant them.

How had she missed this before? Had he always carried a gun? The thought sent a chill down her spine, her hands gripping the edge of the bed as her mind raced.

Taeyong grabbed his coat, slipping it on and fastening the buttons with fluid movements. He turned back to her, his expression unreadable. Stepping closer, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, the gesture gentle, almost tender, but it only made her feel more unsteady.

“I’ll be off,” he said simply, his tone as calm as if they had just shared a normal morning.

Before she could muster a response, Taeyong strode out of the room, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and the undeniable tension that seemed to follow him everywhere. Y/n sat frozen, her mind spinning as she replayed the image of him holstering the gun, a stark reminder of the world he belonged to, and how deeply she was entangled in it.

Taeyong stood in front of the mirror, meticulously adjusting his tie, his eyes scanning his reflection with a critical gaze. Behind him, Johnny lounged casually in the armchair, one leg draped over the other, his chin resting on his hand, sighing as he does.

Taeyong took his time getting ready, ensuring every detail was perfect. He smoothed his shirt, straightened his jacket, and checked his shoes. Tonight wasn’t just any other night, he wanted her to notice that he’d gone the extra mile. She needed to see that he’d put in effort, not for appearances, but for her.

Johnny yawned, a stark contrast to Taeyong’s focused intensity. “Shouldn’t I be heading out to pick her up by now?” he asked, his tone curious.

“Send someone else,” Taeyong replied without looking away from the mirror. His hands moved with precision, adjusting the collar of his shirt as if every detail mattered.

Johnny shrugged and pulled out his phone, making a quick call. Once done, he leaned back in the chair, studying Taeyong with a knowing smirk. “Alright, how do I look?” Taeyong finally asked, turning to face him.

Johnny didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “You love her?”

Taeyong froze for a moment, the question catching him off guard. His face contorted in a mix of disbelief and disgust. “Of course not.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Then why am I here, helping you get ready like this?”

“Because I told you to,” Taeyong snapped, his voice tinged with irritation as he turned back to the mirror.

His brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened, but his hands betrayed him, briefly pausing before resuming their adjustments.

Johnny leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter but no less certain. “You may not love her…but you do need her.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, one Taeyong didn’t immediately acknowledge. He glanced at his reflection again, his expression hardening. Johnny’s observation had struck closer to home than he wanted to admit.

Taeyong scoffed lightly, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket as if to dismiss the weight of the statement.

“I don’t need anyone,” he muttered, though his voice lacked the conviction it usually carried.

Johnny smirked, leaning back in the chair. “Sure, boss. Should I leave then?”

Taeyong ignored his quip, his focus returning to his reflection. But as he finished adjusting his appearance, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. Whether he’d admit it or not, there was something about her that had burrowed under his skin, a feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

Y/n sat on her couch, her hands clasped tightly on her knees, the smooth fabric of her dress brushing against her palms. The dress and coat she wore were gifts, or perhaps demands, from Taeyong, chosen with precision to fit his idea of what she should look like. The heels, she recalled, had been Johnny’s suggestion while the three of them were out.

Her heart felt heavy, and her stomach churned with unease. She didn’t want to go out tonight, not after everything that had happened. The memory of the night before still clung to her, vivid and raw. The fear she’d felt, the sheer intensity of Taeyong’s presence and the realization of what he was capable of, had shaken her.

But here she was, dressed and waiting. Not because she wanted to, but because she had no choice. Taeyong didn’t ask, he demanded, and she had learned quickly that resistance only made things harder.

The sharp sound of a knock on her door startled her. She exhaled shakily, gathering what little composure she had left. Rising from the couch, she walked to the door, her heels clicking softly against the floor. It was Yuta again.

He had sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through her, but the smirk on his lips added an unsettling edge to his otherwise composed demeanor.

He was quick to speak, “Taeyong sent me to pick you up.”

Y/n hesitated, her grip tightening on the doorframe, but she nodded silently. There was no point in arguing. She stepped outside, pulling her coat tighter around herself, and followed him to the car waiting at the curb.

Yuta moved ahead of her, opening the back door with a fluid, practiced motion. “After you,” he said with a slight bow of his head.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft, before stepping into the car. She settled into the seat, the faint scent of leather and cologne enveloping her.

Deep down, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Yuta's calm demeanor, though polite, felt more like a calculated mask than genuine friendliness. Taeyong’s reach seemed to extend further than she had ever imagined, and it was suffocating. Every choice she thought she had was slipping through her fingers like sand, leaving her with nothing.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Y/n stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, her mind racing.

"Taeyong’s been looking forward to tonight, it was going to be yesterday, but I heard you never picked up." Yuta said casually, breaking the silence. "He doesn’t usually go through this much trouble for anyone."

She glanced at him through the rearview mirror, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Yuta chuckled softly, his eyes briefly meeting hers in the mirror. “Let’s just say he doesn’t do things in halves. When he sets his mind on something, or someone, he doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

Y/n’s stomach churned. The weight of his words wasn’t lost on her. It was as if he was warning her without outright saying it, leaving her to fill in the blanks herself.

“Why does he…” she started, her voice faltering. “Why does he feel the need to control everything?” she knew the answer, but it still irked her.

Yuta’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “Taeyong doesn’t see it as control. To him, it’s care. Protection. He thinks if he holds on tight enough, nothing can slip away. And we can’t forget who he is and what he does…for him to lose control would be a one way trip into a casket.”

“But people aren’t things,” Y/n said, her voice firmer now, this feeling more personal.

“No, they’re not,” Yuta agreed, his eyes flicking back to the road. “But try telling him that.”

The car fell silent again, Yuta’s words lingering in the air like a challenge. Y/n turned her gaze back to the window, her reflection staring back at her in the glass. She felt like a pawn in a game she didn’t understand anymore, and the more she tried to resist, the deeper she seemed to sink.

When the car finally stopped outside a building, Yuta stepped out first, opening her door with a slight bow. “After you,” he said, his smirk returning.

Y/n hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest, but she stepped out anyway. The towering building loomed over her.

“Have a good night,” Yuta said quietly, his voice low enough that she almost didn’t hear it.

Then, with a sharp smile, he gestured toward the entrance. Y/n swallowed hard, straightened her coat, and walked toward the doors, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As soon as Y/n stepped through the door, Taeyong was there, his expression lighting up as if she were the only person in the world. His tailored suit was a step above his usual attire, and the way he carried himself was disarmingly charming.

“There she is,” Taeyong said warmly, his lips curving into a soft smile. He stepped forward, taking her hand without hesitation. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. He acted as though the night before hadn’t happened, as if he hadn’t stormed into her apartment, intimidating her into compliance. Instead, he was every bit the gentleman, leading her toward an intimate dining area lit with soft, golden light.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice betraying the tension she was still carrying.

“Of course. Sit, my Dear,” Taeyong replied, pulling out a chair for her to sit.

She hesitated before sitting, her mind racing as he settled across from her. The table was set for two, with a bottle of wine chilling nearby and plates that looked as if they should be on display.

“I thought we could use some time to unwind,” Taeyong continued, pouring her a glass of wine. “No distractions, just us.”

Y/n forced a small smile, lifting the glass to her lips but barely sipping. Her eyes flickered to his, searching for any hint of acknowledgment about the night before, but Taeyong gave her nothing. His demeanor was composed, his smile easy, and his words smooth.

The meal came out in courses, each one more extravagant than the last. Taeyong asked her about her day and other interests, but there was little to ask, as he knew most thinks about her already. Moving the conversation along, he threw in lighthearted comments that almost made her laugh. For a moment, she wondered if she had imagined the cold edge to him the night before.

But then he reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His touch was firm but not harsh, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “I like seeing you like this.”

Y/n stiffened slightly, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. The warmth of his skin against hers should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. It was a reminder of the control he wielded, the way he always managed to get what he wanted.

Taeyong noticed her hesitation, his smile faltering for the briefest moment before he spoke again. “I know I can be...intense sometimes. But I have a reason for everything. You know that, don’t you?”

Y/n didn’t answer immediately, her mind replaying the events of the previous night. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely audible. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair but keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Because I want you to feel safe with me, Y/n. I’d never hurt you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Y/n forced herself to nod again, though the knot in her stomach refused to loosen.

As the evening went on, Taeyong maintained his façade of charm, showering her with attention and care. But no matter how pleasant the night seemed on the surface, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking a tightrope, and one wrong step could send her spiraling.

But something had been nagging at Y/n’s mind for weeks now, a question she couldn’t ignore any longer. No matter how much she tried to suppress it, it lingered, growing louder with every interaction, every lingering glance, and every controlling move he made.

She hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she finally spoke. “What are your intentions with me?”

Taeyong stilled. He didn’t lift his head fully, but his eyes flicked up to meet hers through his dark fringe.

“You know this already,” he said, his voice calm but with an underlying edge, as if the answer should have been obvious.

Y/n didn’t flinch under his gaze, though her chest tightened. “Do I?” she pressed, her tone firmer now. “Because lately, it feels like I don’t.”

Taeyong leaned back in his chair. He looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, a mask of cool that revealed nothing.

“What are my intentions?” he repeated, his voice low and measured.

Y/n nodded, her pulse racing despite her attempt to stay calm. “Yes. What do you want from me, Taeyong? Beyond...what we agreed on.”

His expression didn’t waver, but the atmosphere between them shifted, heavy and charged. “I thought that was obvious,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers.

“It’s not,” she countered, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “You’ve been acting like...like this is more than what we agreed to. It’s confusing.”

Taeyong tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upward in a faint, almost amused smile. “You think I’ve been unfair?”

“It’s not about fair,” she said, her voice firmer now. “It’s about honesty. You say I matter, but what does that even mean? Am I just someone you can call whenever you want? Or is this about control?”

His jaw clenched at her words, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “Control?” he echoed, his tone darkening. “If that’s what you think, you don’t understand me at all.”

Y/n’s chest tightened at the shift in his demeanor, but she didn’t back down. “Then help me understand, because right now, it feels like I’m just...a possession to you. And if not that…then something else.”

For a moment, Taeyong said nothing, his piercing gaze holding hers in a way that made her want to shrink and stand her ground all at once. Then, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his voice dropped lower.

“You’re not a possession, Y/n,” he said, his tone deceptively soft. “But I also don’t take what we have lightly. You’re part of my life now, and I don’t plan on changing that.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of unease and something she couldn’t quite name. “But we never agreed to that,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Taeyong’s lips pressed into a thin line, his frustration evident. “Maybe not, but I don’t care. Agreements can change. People can change.” He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. “And I’m not going to let you go, no matter what.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, the weight of his words sinking in. She pulled her hand back slowly, unable to look at him.

“Does that scare you?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender.

Y/n swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on her lap. “I don’t know,” she admitted, the words barely audible.

He leaned back again, his expression calm but his eyes alight with something dangerous, something resolute. “You’ll understand eventually,” he said, his tone final.

And with that, the conversation was over, leaving her more unsettled than ever.

What had happened to her? She used to be confident, strong, unshakable. She had always held her ground, never letting anyone dictate her life or choices. But now? Now, she was letting him have control, letting him pull the strings, letting him decide.

This wasn’t her.

Her reflection in her spoon seemed foreign, like she was looking at a stranger wearing her face. The woman staring back at her wasn’t the Y/n she knew, the one who would have never tolerated this. When had she let him dismantle the walls she’d spent years building?

Her chest tightened, frustration bubbling to the surface. She couldn’t keep living like this, letting him dictate the pace while she stumbled to keep up. This wasn’t who she was, and it wasn’t who she wanted to become.

Her fingers clenched into fists in her lap. No more, she thought She needed to sort this out–whatever “this” was–before it consumed her entirely.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture, determination setting her jaw. She couldn’t erase what had already happened, but she could take back control. It was time to execute plan b, a plan she made up on the very spot while looking at the man across from her.

She was scared to find out what would happen if she didn’t.

A/N: this man crazy, lol thank you for reading, part three is available to read :) 💚

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chloe-caulfield94 · 7 months ago

Text

Bay Max has a talk with Other Max

This is going to be a part of a larger fanfic, so if it piques your interest, stay tuned. It's also quite darker than what I usually write, so be warned.

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Max went back to the scene of her crime. The filthy bathroom corner she had showered with her tears five days prior. The filthy bathroom corner that she had cowered in, waiting for Chloe’s heart to be pierced by a bullet. She touched the fire alarm she was supposed to use to save a life, but she had chosen not to. She turned to walk away and she noticed the moustache and glasses scribbled on the mirror. She walked over and touched the graffiti, repeating her movements from Monday.

“You were right. Something was mocking you. It wasn’t the universe, though. I highly doubt the universe is even aware a bug like you is currently crawling on its skin. It was me. I’ve been mocking you” – Max heard her own voice coming from the mirror. She noticed that her reflection not only wasn’t mirroring her movements, but it was even dressed differently – in her usual grey hoodie and pink t-shirt instead of the black dress she was wearing.

Max furrowed her brows. “You again? You told me to sacrifice Chloe. You told me she wasn’t worth my love and friendship. And that spectacle at the diner? All the townspeople accusing me of murder? Bravo. I especially liked Joyce telling me that I’m taking her away from her family if I don’t sacrifice Chloe. But her family is Chloe! Such a nice touch. How twisted do you have to be to even come up with something like that?”

“Why are you making fun of my tricks? You fell for them. They worked. You did what I told you to do”.

“Yes, you bullied me into killing my own best friend. I did what you told me was the right thing to do. Even though by doing so I killed my soul as well. What more do you want from me?”

Her reflection chuckled. “Bold of you to assume you had a soul to begin with. And our talks have never been about me telling you to do the right thing. Have you considered the possibility that I simply enjoy seeing you squirm?”

“Who … what are you?”

“I’m a part of you that contains all of your self-loathing, self-doubt, guilt and resentment. Or … perhaps I’m a demon sent to torment you. You always listen to Samuel’s talks about spirits roaming around Arcadia Bay. You constantly fall for various ‘woo’ you find on the Internet. You’re functionally an antivaxxer. I’m sure you’re more than capable of believing in demons”.

“So what now? You told me I should sacrifice Chloe and now that I did you’re going to say I shouldn’t have?”

“More or less. I’m always telling you things that make you feel bad. But before you say I’m evil, that’s just what I am. You could say it’s my job. I am a part of you that makes you feel sad. It’s not my fault you let me grow so strong. Stronger than all your other parts put together. You know, the nightmare you had when Chloe was hauling your unconscious body to safety was the first time we met face to face. But it was not the first time you heard my voice. No, for years I whispered in your ear. I told you not to return Chloe’s phone calls. I told you to respond to her texts with the most non-committal nothings under the sun. I told you not to write her letters. I told you not to reach out to her even when you already were in Arcadia Bay. And we both know for a fact you wouldn’t have contacted her, ever, had she not saved your ass in the parking lot, don’t we? And we both know that had you contacted her right after you arrived in town, six weeks before she was murdered, her fate would’ve turned out differently and she wouldn’t have found herself on the receiving end of Nathan’s gun. No Storm, no dead best friend, had you just had the guts to reach out to her, you coward. Your cowardice killed people. You could only choose who it killed. But it was fatal nonetheless”.

“So you are responsible for all of this?”

“No, no, no! Don’t pin your wrong choices on me, Max! I only ever highlighted the options you had. But we always make choices as one. All parts of us together. It’s not my fault you constantly follow my advice. Think of me as of an attorney, defending a client who’s obviously guilty. I have to do this. It’s my job. So when the neglectful jurors return a not guilty verdict and the accused is released into the world to commit more evil, whose fault it is?”

“You can’t be a part of me. I‘m not a good person. But you … you’re a monster”.

“If I’m a monster, that makes you a monster as well, at least in part. And I’d say that you’re a monster in full. All your parts are monsters. It’s just that I’m honest about what I am. All your other parts, including the one I’m talking to right now, are in denial. Care to explain one thing to me? Why did you kiss Chloe when she dared you to on Wednesday morning, but then you immediately rewound time and didn’t kiss her for a second time? So you had all the fun of kissing her and she had none of the fun of being kissed by you? You used her body for your own pleasure but you made sure she got none of that pleasure back? At best that makes you a selfish lover. At worst that makes you … an artist. Like Jefferson and Nathan. You like posing others for your own pleasure, you steal moments from other people and you make sure they don’t remember those moments at all”.

“Shut up! I am nothing like them!”

“Oh really? How is what you did to Chloe different than what Nathan did to her? You used her for your own pleasure for five days and then you tossed her away like trash, making sure she would remember none of it. At least he was done with her in a single night. You took your sweet time with her. Oh, and another thing you have in common. You both murdered her”.

“I had to! You said so yourself!”

“You didn’t have to do anything. You chose to do that. You know he’s going to be released soon, right? I give it three years. And then Sean Prescott’s golfing buddies at the Oregon Supreme Court, you know, the ones whose election campaigns he financed, are going to overturn Nathan’s conviction. What a beautiful story they are going to tell! And the media is going to repeat it a thousandfold. A story of a promising, talented, handsome, well-mannered young man from a good family who had the misfortune of crossing paths with two whores. One junkie whore named Rachel, who overdosed despite Nathan’s best efforts to make her quit her drug habit. He probably even performed CPR on her once she OD’d. Alas, to no avail. But it does explain his DNA, if any is found on Rachel. And then there was a second whore. She got innocent little Nathan drunk and she dragged him to bed. A filthy gold digger, who just wanted to lay her grubby hands on his family’s well-earned wealth. And when she tried to violently extort money from him, he simply had to stand his ground. Ooh, ooh! I have idea for another juicy detail to this story! She wanted to extort money from Nathan because she was pregnant! Nathan, being a responsible young man, of course insisted on using protection, but she pricked the condom with a needle, like gold-digging whores do to accomplished men they want to entrap. I mean killing your pregnant mistress is perfectly legal. Haven’t you seen ‘Fatal Attraction’”?

Max vomited into the sink, violently. She had eaten very little that day, so it was mostly bile. It went out of her mouth and nose. She wiped her face with her sleeve. Leaning against the sink, she said hesitantly: “But … those are all lies. None of that is true”.

“Max, of course we both know the truth. Nathan murdered Rachel in the course of a ‘photo session’ he gave her. And he was … extra hands-on with her, wasn’t he? At least Jefferson didn’t insert himself into the pictures. But Nathan … half the pictures of Rachel we found in the Dark Room were of him groping her, kissing her, lying on top of her … I mean no wonder Jefferson killed him. He was furious Nathan treated his adolescent girlfriend that way. And we know why Chloe wanted hush money from Nathan. Because he drugged her and gave her a ‘photo session’ too. And she knew she would get zero justice by going to the Prescott-owned police department. You remember that cop who openly told you, in a crowded diner, that he and his buddies were taking money to look out for little Nathan? We know what she did was the only way for her to get any semblance of justice. That’s the truth. But the biggest problem with the truth is getting people to believe in it. Especially if they were bribed not to. You know, they are not going to use exactly the same story I just told you. No, they are probably going to use something even worse, something even more insulting to your dead best friend’s memory. You can run, but you cannot hide, Max. You can run to a place where the local news from Oregon don’t reach, like a hippie commune in the middle of Arizona. But sooner or later, those news are going to reach you. Hell, maybe you’ll learn of Nathan’s rehabilitation and of the awful crimes of Rachel and Chloe ten years after it makes the headlines here in Oregon. But you will hear about that. I can’t wait to see your face then. I can’t wait to hear how you try and fail to convince yourself it had to happen for the greater good”.

“But … there is evidence. Nathan’s real student record. The photograph of Chloe he kept in his drawer”.

“Too bad you only regained memories of those days you chose to erase today. Had you remembered anything on Monday, you could’ve told someone. But now? Those documents and photographs are long gone. The principal has been on the take from the Prescotts for years. He swept under the rug Nathan’s many violent outbursts and his drug peddling. What, you think he won’t sweep this under the rug? If only out of concern for his own skin? If Prescotts go down, Wells goes down with them. Come on, he let a violent, drug-addled boy attend Blackwell for years, instead of expelling him, like he should’ve. But we know only poor people get expelled, don’t we? Poor girls get expelled for a little graffiti in the parking lot. Rich boys don’t get expelled when they are caught selling drugs and beating other students up. Wells will never let anyone see Nathan’s real student record, the one he kept secret for so long. He will only show the fake one, the one painting a rosy picture of Prescott junior. And the photograph from Nathan’s drawer? Long gone. Taken by Wells himself or some other schmuck on the Prescott payroll. But don’t be too hard on yourself, Max. Who would you have told about this evidence? The insanely corrupt cops, who only arrested Nathan because they found him at the crime scene, smeared in his victim’s blood? They would’ve supressed or even outright destroyed all that evidence, too. You know, to keep those envelopes coming”.

Max kept breathing heavily, as if she was about to throw up again.

Her mirror image kept driving the knife ever deeper into Max’s heart: “Why are you so disgusted with all of that? Those are all consequences of the choice you made. You didn’t want to live with the Storm as the unintended consequence of your rescue of Chloe. And now you don’t want to live with Nathan’s impunity and the desecration of your best friend’s memory as the consequences of your choice not to save her. At some point you have to own the consequences of your actions, whatever they are. And why are you so disturbed at the thought of Nathan’s release? You have so much in common. Two artistic souls? And you already share such a deep bond. To have murdered someone together? To have the same blood on your hands? I don’t know if a deeper connection can be established between two persons. If you start writing him letters now, you can marry him the moment he is released. But I suggest you start writing now. Because there’s going to be a lot of competition. Hybristophilia is quite common among young impressionable women such as yourself. Especially if the murderer is cute and rich”.

Anger overpowered Max’s disgust. She banged her hand on the mirror and shouted: “Fuck you!”

“’Fuck me?’ You’re talking to yourself, Max. What does ‘fuck you’ even mean in this context? Are you announcing that tonight, once you’re all snuggled under your covers, you’re going to touch yourself? Are you going to think about your precious punk Chloe as you do so? Face it, what you felt for her wasn’t love. If you loved her, why did you never say it? She said it twice. She always said it just before you killed her. Because no matter the timeline, you always end up murdering her. And always with her dying breath she confesses her love for you. And you never reciprocate. Why? If you loved her, why didn’t you tell her that? ‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this’ is not exactly a love confession. No, it’s what a butcher says to a sad-eyed calf they are about to slaughter. What you felt for her was lust. You realized you were already in your senior year and you wanted to go through a ‘bad girl phase’. And you did. A perfect ‘bad girl phase’. No messy breakup, no clinging. Everything just erased, like your browser history. If you didn’t want to lie you loved her, you at least could’ve told her she deserved your love and friendship and deserved to be alive. When she said she didn’t, you didn’t deny that. And by sacrificing her, you kinda proved her right on that point”.

Max once again banged on the mirror and screamed: “Stop it! I loved her! I still do! You are defiling the best, purest thing I’ve ever felt! That I will ever feel!”

Her reflection’s stern facial expression gave way to a malicious smile. Just like she said, she enjoyed seeing Max squirm. “And we both know why you lust for tall girls with tattoos and bright hair dye. Jefferson’s albums. The ones you loved so much. The ones which drew you to him. The ones which made you wish to be one of his students. The ones he shot in his Seattle days. The ones filled with girls from the local music scene. You loved how he captured them. The difference between you and him is that he grew bored of faux-punk sluts like that and moved on to decent girls from good families. But you continued to lust after low-hanging fruit. At least until you could try it. And when you saw your long-lost friend dressed just like those girls from Jefferson’s albums you’d thought about when touching yourself, you just had to possess her. So tell me, Max. This night, with your hand between your legs, are you going to think about her? Are you going to think about the oh so wet kiss you gave her just before you murdered her?”

“Shut up! Shut up, you monster!”

“I think you’re going to do just fine here at Blackwell. Now that the position of the school princess is confirmed to be vacant, you have a decent shot at taking it. You and Rachel are so alike. You both wanted to fool around with a cool punk rocker. But once you discovered that underneath that thin façade was a real girl, one with her own feelings and other messy things like that, who instead of constantly providing you with cheap thrills actually needed something from you, needed your love and care, you couldn’t throw her away fast enough. I wonder, what’s a more cowardly way of breaking up with someone? Leaving them a scribbled note or murdering them?”

“Shut up. Please, shut up” – Max pleaded quietly with her tormentor.

“Max, why are you even standing here, listening to me? You could’ve walked out that door the moment I spoke up. But you didn’t. Why? Because you know you deserve to hear all of that. You are simply accepting your just punishment. Because even though you want to delude yourself into thinking that you’re an everyday hero who saved their hometown, you know you are the monster. And something even worse. How do you call someone who makes a promise to love and protect another person, but then breaks that promise every single time? How about ‘oath breaker’? That does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Max turned to walk away. She said in a resigned tone: “Enough. Maybe I do deserve to hear all of that, but I can’t take it anymore”.

“If you’re tired of my words, how about listening to someone else?”

Max heard her voice. Not her reflection’s. Her own voice coming from the mirror. And then she heard Joyce’s.

“I wish I was a better friend. I know Chloe doesn’t get many visitors”.

“Oh, Max. You’re Chloe’s best friend for a reason. You’re here exactly when she needs you”.

Max turned towards the mirror again and saw Joyce sitting in her bed. Then the image shifted and she saw William sitting at the table in the Prices’ living room. And once again she heard her own voice.

“William, I just want you to know, that whatever happens, I’ll always be here for Chloe. Always”.

“I know you will, Max” – replied William.

Max’s reflection editorialized: “Had they only known that by ‘being there for Chloe’ you actually meant murdering her”.

The image in the mirror kept shifting, showing her various moments from the week that never was. Max was being lashed with her own words. Bitter, burning tears ran down her cheeks.

“I’m with you to the end, Chloe. You know that”.

“Chloe, you’re priceless”.

“I never want to hurt you! Ever!��

“I always wanted my life to be special, an adventure. But not without you!”

“You are my number one priority now! You are all that matters to me!”

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I have to save Chloe!”

“Nobody is going to hurt Chloe ever again!”

The image shifted and Max was once again staring into the eyes of her reflection. Only it was a reflection of her thirteen year old self, in a similar black dress meant for funerals. The reflection said, in a high-pitched, childish voice:

“You don’t have to worry about anything changing. You’re dealing with so much other stuff. You don’t deserve any of this. Chloe, listen. Even if I never … Even if we’re moving for good ... We’re always together, okay? Even when we’re apart. We’re still Max and Chloe. I will always, always love you”.

Her words were punctuated by a deafening gunshot, so loud it made the mirror shake and Max’s ears hurt.

Thirteen year old Max kept speaking: “Because I will never abandon you, Chloe. I'll always have your back”.

Another deafening gunshot.

Her thirteen year old reflection had more to say: “You’re sick in the head, you know that? I said those things because I was a stupid brat and I didn’t actually mean any of that. I didn’t even know what it meant to love someone. But you … It wasn’t enough for you to make false promises to a nineteen year old Chloe. No, you had to go back in time and lie to a fourteen year old Chloe’s face as well”.

Max turned around, walked over to the fire alarm and retrieved the hammer she was supposed to use on Monday.

Walking back to the mirror, she saw her eighteen year old reflection holding a black notebook covered in colourful stickers.

“You really should give it a read. I don’t know why Joyce and David gave their daughter’s belongings to you of all people. That guy Eliot deserved it way more. You know, the one from kindergarten? At least he loved her. In a possessive, jealous way. But he loved her. Unlike you and Rachel. And he was in her life for way longer than you. The next time you’re going through your victim’s belongings, don’t stop at the pictures you took of her. They only show how you saw her. Read her diary instead. Learn how she saw you”.

Other Max opened the notebook and started reading aloud. Max was already next to the mirror, hammer in her raised hand. But when she heard what had been written, she couldn’t move: “The worst part is that even though we haven’t spoken in months, even though she habitually ignored my texts so much that I just stopped trying, even though I know, deep down, that she doesn't care about me anymore and that she probably has all new friends up in fucking Seattle ... I still miss her. If she came back tomorrow and said ‘hey Chloe, want to dress up like pirates and be stupid together?’, I would take her back in a heartbeat”.

Other Max showed Max the contents of the page. “See? And then she drew a heart and added ‘in a heartbeat’ once more. That’s what she thought of you, bleeding out on the floor. How she would take you back in a heartbeat if you just reached out. But you never did. She never saw you after William’s funeral. She never had the chance to take you back in a heartbeat. Because you never came back. And because you stopped her heart from beating. Forever”.

With an unarticulated scream, Max struck at the mirror. An avalanche of glass shards fell into the sink, mixing with bile. Max breathed heavily. Some of the things the other her said were obvious lies. That she didn’t love Chloe. That she was anything like Jefferson and Nathan. But other things … That she had broken her promise. That she had failed her friend. Max desperately wished those things were lies as well.

Her reflection, its voice distorted, as it was now coming from dozens of glass shards at the same time, dealt her a final blow: “Live with the consequences of your actions, Max. Or don’t. I’m fine either way”.

“Oh, I’m not going to live with them. But not in the way you want me to”.

“What, are you trying to tell me you’re going to find your courage and confidence? That part of you is all shrivelled up, almost dead. You’re never going to find her alone”.

“I’m not alone. I have my best friend to help me”.

Max walked over to the corner she had cowered in on Monday. She looked everywhere, but the photograph she had dropped five days earlier was nowhere to be found. She turned to the trash cans, picking them up and emptying them onto the floor. She knelt and started going through the piles of slimy garbage with her bare hands, begging whoever and whatever was listening for the butterfly picture to turn up. It didn’t.

#max caulfield #other max #life is strange #lis #chloe price #pricefield #nathan prescott #mark jefferson #life is strange fanfiction #fanfiction #rachel amber

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