#shall we end this here? or if you'd like to reply can end on yours? lmk <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[gabevargas]

There she was, demeaning him again. Gabe shifted uncomfortably under in his chair as the coldness of her gaze penetrated his soul. Why did he find this sexy? "I am a big man," he barked back at her, fully sat up now in defiance of her, despite it being exactly what she had demanded of him.

Gabe's flinched and clutched his nose when she flicked it, "Hey, what the fuck?" He moaned, thick brows knitting together as he glared at her. He growled as she spoke, impatience growing. "Ay dios mío, no! If I had known that, I wouldn't have gone near her! I'm an asshole, but I'm not that bad," he exclaimed, huffing back into his chair with his arms folded. He was offended Selin thought so low of him. "So, stop hitting me... that hurt," he added, brown eyes watering as he rubbed his nose. It hadn't hurt, but his pride had taken a few knocks in the last twenty-four hours, so he was fragile, and her thinking that of him is what stung.

Despite last night's mistakes, he didn't push anymore with her and Leyla's relationship, as he knew when there was a line. That was their business, and he would never come between family. "I don't like you today — just so you know..." Gabe remarked as he stood to leave, making sure his back was to Leyla in the process. The last thing he needed was the other sister to notice him. He placed cash down on the table, enough for a very generous tip, like she had asked, mumbling under his breath once more. "You know, you're not the boss of me..." Gabe turned on his heel and stormed outside. "I'm going home to ice my jaw AND my nose," he called out to Selin as he walked to his car. He was in a mood with her now.

Selin could barely look in Gabe's direction, fuming that this was the fuckery she got dragged into so quickly upon returning to town. She should have known that karma would come back to bite her in the ass and she couldn't blame it on a past life because she'd done more than enough wrong in this lifetime. "Everyone enjoys a kiss when they're drunk, but who says you were memorable. Put the menu down and let her see that boy bruise after you're done hiding your face in your arms like the big man you are if you're so confident."

The words weren't meant to be as harsh because she did love Gabe, and he wasn't the worst person Leyla could be kissing— but her entanglement with it all made her way to shrivel up and die. Better yet if she could find a way to bring Gabe with her.

His saving grace in the moment was that Selin was too curious about Leyla's relationship with her employee to immediately reach over and hit the toe of her heel straight against Gabe's shin. The complication of Benny being so close to Leyla and Billie, with the addition of feelings, worried her to no end. It provided the risk of it all blowing up in their faces and her sister and niece being on the receiving end of a broken heart. As for Benny, she'd have to place him in a grave beside Gabe should he hurt her family.

Speaking of murder.... Her gaze flicked back to her friend, leaning forward to lower the menu and flick him upon the bridge of his nose, allowing her manicured nail to tap the bone with a satisfying 'thock' sound. "You knew he liked her and you made out with her? He should have hit you harder." Her head shook disapprovingly. "Nuh huh— you don't get to know anything about Leyla and I this close after what you did." Clearly their relationship was estranged but she wasn't going to give Gabe any sort of leverage. "Let's get out of here before I call them both over just to watch you embarrass yourself for fun." An empty threat because no matter how angry she was, between everyone involved, Gabe was probably the only person who was willing to be around Selin. "Come on, playboy— leave some cash for our coffee, and a big tip as your first step to mending your conscience."

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (1)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

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

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. You have one more option. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait with baited breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

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

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

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

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

This was bad. Very bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

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

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

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

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause. 

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

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

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

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

If it’s his ship that he wants…

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

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

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

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

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

“I can help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

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

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

Is he about to cut your hands off?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

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

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

“I’ll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I led you astray?”

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

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

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost?” he questions.

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

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

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

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just saved his life.

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

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“Not even an inkling?”

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you shake him off last time?”

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

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

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

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

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something you wanted from him. 

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

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

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

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

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

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

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

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

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

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you pulled the trigger. 

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

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

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

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

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

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasry. Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten coin.”

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

“I’ll do seven!” 

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

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

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

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

You remain silent. 

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

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

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

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

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

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

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

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

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

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

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

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

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

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

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

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

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

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

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

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

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

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

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me what? you grind. 

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

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

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

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

[222col]

is it casual now? | part 2

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ part two of this - based on the song 'casual' by chappell roan ★ 5.7k ★ 18+ | inc: angst, smut, fluff, f oral, unprotected sex, choking, spitting, breeding, smoking, drinking, drugs ★ an: patrick is a college student & also has a sister for context

your grades had slipped, your drinking had gotten worse, your body count had gone up. your focus and energy stripped away from you in one conversation with patrick zweig. you were smoking out your dorm window, rather than just usually at parties. going through bags of weed alone, rather than at the park with some friends. you faked smiles and acted like your world wasn't shattered the minute patrick left you dorm room all those months ago. your friends hadn't noticed how badly you were struggling, putting on too good of a facade for anyone to dig past. you hadn't seen patrick once since he left, not even at parties or around campus. one of your friends heard he'd dropped out of college, but you didn't know how true that rumour was, although you wouldn't put it past him. he never was too interested in classes, more the parties and the tennis. he'd told you once that college was his parents' idea, not his. but, you still couldn't bring yourself to believe that he may have well and truly left.

patrick was on your mind often, when you'd find an t-shirt of his in your laundry, or someone walking past you was wearing his cologne. you'd blocked his number the morning after he left, knowing you'd probably drunk call him if you didn't delete it. his sister calls you sometimes, asking about college, telling you about school, but she never mentions patrick. neither do you, you don't want him to find out you're asking about him. can't face the embarrassment of him thinking you're still pining over him. you always end her call and immediately roll a joint, needing to numb the pain after remembering patrick's actions.

as another friday rolled around, you began your weekend routine. showering, smoking a cigarette out of the window, towel in your hair. doing your make up at your desk, drinking a few cans of whatever was cheapest before slipping into the smallest skirt and top you could find that was clean in your wardrobe. drying your hair, packing your purse and walking over to whatever fraternity was hosting a party that night. meeting your group of friends, stealing a bottle of liquor from the kitchen and sitting outside in the garden. lighting another cigarette as you all shared the stolen alcohol. "do you always have to show us up?" one of your friends laughs to you, passing the bottle along. you laugh back, rolling your eyes. "i'm not showing anyone up. we're all hot." toking on the cigarette, legs crossed on the plastic chair. all of you gossiping about your weeks, pointing out the cute boys inside and laughing your way through the liquor bottle. stubbing out your cigarette, a blonde boy walks outside. "hey, art." your best friend smiles to her fellow tennis teammate. your breath hitches, half expecting patrick to follow him out, they used to be attached at the hip. but art's alone. "what, no patrick glued to your side?" your friend teases, met with a slap to the arm. "i thought we said no mentioning he who shall not be named." your best friend whispers in her ear.

art laughs at your group, lighting his own cigarette. "no, no patrick. he dropped out a couple months ago, haven't seen much of him since." holding in any form of a reaction to art's words, apart from sipping on the vodka you stole. "hmm, interesting. why'd he drop out?" one of your friends asks, as your best friend slips her hand into yours. "not really sure, he just said he couldn't be here anymore, said it was too hard for him." art replies, pulling up a seat with you all. "the classes?" someone asks him. art shakes his head. "i don't think so, i think something must have happened that he just couldn't get over." standing up abruptly, you march inside the house, locking the door to the bathroom behind you. gritting your teeth, head leaning back against the door, holding back your tears. trying to persuade yourself that it couldn't have had anything to do with you. refusing to let your mind wonder, slipping down the door, sitting on the cold floor. did patrick actually feel bad? could he possibly have left college because the sight of you was too hard for him to get over? your mind racing, trying to ignore all the feelings rushing to your brain. you pull yourself out of it when you hear someone saying your name and knocking on the door.

you see the blonde locks before you realise it's art, opening the door fully and letting him join you in the bathroom. "hey, are you okay?" he asks, as you sit down on the side of the bathtub, art joining you. "yeah, sorry, i'm fine." art tilts his head, looking for the real answer. "is this about patrick? i know you guys used to hook up." you can't hold back the scoff, patrick really did never describe your time together as anything more than a hook up. fiddling with your hands, so anxious to be talking about patrick for the first time in over six months. "you know patrick told me he loved me once, while we were hooking up." you start, eyes glued to the floor. "in the bathroom of a restaurant, while his parents were still at the table." you half laugh, as art breathes out. "then when i asked him about it, after he'd kissed some girl at a party i took him to, he just told me he didn't mean it, and that i was nothing more than a fuck buddy to him." art immediately starts to apologise, genuinely disturbed by his friend's actions. "he left me crying on my bed that night, and i never saw him again." nodding your head as you look art in the eyes. he sighs, stroking your back as he apologises again. "so that's why he left." art breathes out. you shake your head in response. "i meant nothing to him, he wouldn't have left because of me." art's hand stays on your back. "patrick gets scared when real emotions come into play, he runs from them. this time he must have just physically ran away from them." tears well up in your eyes, holding your head back, trying to stop them from falling. "i can't think about that, art. he's gone, he's obviously not coming back. i need to try and move on." you respond, standing up and readying yourself to rejoin the party. "thanks, for coming to check on me, and for listening." art smiles sweetly to you, standing up to follow you out of the bathroom. "anytime." closing the door behind you two as he leans down to give you a friendly hug, before you rejoin your girls outside. distracting yourself with more drinks as you attempt to glaze over what just happened, letting your friends lead the conversations and join in the drinking games occasionally. heading home when the sun starts to come up, stumbling into your room, passing out on top of the blankets.

art wakes up the next morning with one thing on his mind, patrick. specifically how patrick treated you, and why he's been hiding everything from him. brushing his teeth before calling his best friend. "a-art? why are you calling so early, are you okay?" patrick's groggy morning voice answers the phone. "patrick it's literally 11am." art replies, pacing around his room, phone to his ear. "whatever, what's up?" patrick mumbles. "why didn't you tell me what actually went down when you left?" art questions, blunt as ever. "what do you mean? i told you, it got too much." art sighs in response. "yeah, but you never said what got too much." it's patrick sighing now, he'd managed to avoid this conversation for all this time. "it was because of her, hasn't it?" art almost whispers into the phone, patrick silent, art speaks your name through the phone. "you left because of what happened between you, didn't you?" patrick still silent, knowing he had to face the music. "yeah," he whispers, voice low. "i couldn't do it anymore, it was killing me to see her around." art hums down the phone, listening to patrick's confession. "how'd you realise?" patrick questions. art explains the conversation you had with him at the party last night, telling patrick how hurt you looked, how upset it made him to see you like that. "she's not doing good, pat. you really fucked up." art tells him off, still walking circles around his room. "trust me, i know." patrick admits to his friend as art asks him, "do you regret it?"

"very much so." patrick replies, without missing a beat. his voice softening with his reply. "apologise and get her back then?" art words phrased as more of an instruction than a question, hearing patrick breathe out heavily. "it's not that easy, art." art slumps onto his bed, aggravated with his friend. "patrick, if you miss her, get her back. she clearly misses you." his words sharp, letting patrick understand the situation. "she was never mine to begin with." patrick chokes on his words, art's never heard him like this. "yeah, and who's fault was that? just don't make the same mistake again, you clearly really like her." art argues back through the phone. "i love her, art." patrick finally admits, his voice soft and quiet, softer than art had ever heard him. "i know you do buddy, that's why you gotta come home and get your girl back." art finally matching patrick's tone. "what if she doesn't want me anymore, art? i fucked up so bad, and hurt her so much. i couldn't cope if she didn't want me." art can hear patrick's quiet sobs as he cries out the words. "look, i'm pretty sure she's not gonna do that, but if she does, i'm always here, okay? i wish you'd have just talked to me in the first place." patrick sighs through the phone before responding. "i know, okay, i'm gonna pack a bag and jump in the car now." patrick says through sniffles. "i'm gonna need your help with this, art."

waking up, head banging, yesterday's make up still on, your room a mess. typical weekend routine continuing. rubbing your eyes, sitting up in bed, checking your texts through squinted eyes.

hey, do you wanna come watch tennis with me today? ur best friend's crush is playing lol if u wanna bring her along. we're all hitting up the dive bar off campus after

you read the text from art, you couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in the sun on the bleachers watching tennis right now, but you know how much your best friend liked this guy on the tennis team. you also know how shy she is about it, despite everyone knowing about her crush. so you of course, as a good friend, accept the invitation.

yeah sure, what time? :)

art tells you the match starts in a couple hours. downing a bottle of water before calling your friend to tell her the plans then jumping in the shower. putting on some make up, jeans and a tank top, placing your sunglasses over your eyes and heading off to meet art and your best friend. a couple girls from your group sit together on the bleachers, as well as the other tennis players that art knows. "you not playing today, art?" you ask him. "nah, my match is tomorrow." nodding your head as your friend starts blushing at the sight of her crush on the court. the game lasts a little while, your friend's crush ended up losing. your hangover finally disappearing as you all head over to the bar. cramming around a couple tables, the big group of you all share drinks and laughs, discussing tennis and college antics.

"where's my blondie?" that oh too familiar voice comes through the door. your body sinking, looking to your best friend for comfort. your back to the door, hoping, praying that it's not him. art's sat two chairs away from you, smile spreading across his face as he turns on his chair. "tell me it's not him." you mumble, grasping your friends hand. her gaze soft, just nodding her head at you. art's engulfed in a hug, those brunette curls are unmistakable. "oh have i missed that face." patrick's words echo around the bar, everyone laughing at the reunion, still facing away from the two of them. as though if you don't look at him, you don't have to accept that he's actually here. he and art walk over to the bar, catching up and ordering drinks. "i need to leave, i can't be here with him." you start standing up, being pulled back down to your seat. "no, you can't give him the satisfaction. you're staying." your knee bouncing up and down as your favourite drink is placed in front of you with a napkin. you don't have to look up to know patrick placed it there, as he and art sit back down on the table. you sigh, pulling the napkin under the table to read the note.

i would have just text you, but you blocked my number. meet me at the park at 10pm?

scrunching up the napkin, you place it in one of the empty glasses on the table. looking over to patrick finally as you do. his eyes locking on yours, mouthing 'please' to you across the table. you roll your eyes and turn back to your friend, telling her what the note said. "you're not going." she instructs you as you sip on the drink patrick bought you. "i know i'm not." you say, eyes drifting back over to patrick who's deep in conversation with all the boys who play tennis. "would you kill me if i did?" you breath out. "yes. yes i would." she laughs, your head falling on to her shoulder. "you're gonna go, aren't you?" her tone is soft, you can feel her shaking her head. "yeah, i am." she simply pats your head. "you're a lost cause." she laughs, the two of you reentering the groups conversation. all the boys at the table gushing over patrick, leaning on his every word, all of your friends are weary of him, subtly giving him dirty looks, smiling at you whenever they do. patrick commands the room, his charm working on everyone at the table, as it always has.

everyone finishes up their drinks around 9pm and heads home, your best friend following you back to your dorm. brushing your hair and reapplying your make up, picking up a hoodie from the floor and slipping it over your head. "just be careful, okay? don't believe everything he says, i'll wait here for you until you get back." your best friend tells you, hugging you before you leave. "and whatever you do, don't fuck him!" she shouts as you close your door behind you. your heart is in your stomach as you walk towards the park on the edge of campus, the path lit by streetlights in what would otherwise be complete darkness. hands in the pocket on your hoodie as you see the park in sight. and there he is. leaning on the wall by the entrance, a toothy grin plastered on his face as he sees you approach. smiling slightly at him as you stand before him. "i'm so glad you came." patrick says sweetly. "why did you ask me here?" you ask, following him as he leads you to a bench in the corner of the park. "this is where we first kissed, did you know that?" he says, the two of you sitting down, his arm resting on the back of the bench behind your head. "mmm, didn't realise." you lie, of course you know that. you've spent hours on this bench in the time he's been away, journalling, listening to music and only sometimes crying.

"we walked here after the party i met you at, we sat here on this bench and talked for hours, before i finally got the courage to kiss you." you scoff at his words, lifting your legs up onto the bench to sit cross legged. "you didn't need courage patrick, i've watched you kiss a girl after two seconds of meeting her." his fingers are inches away from the back of your neck, desperate to touch you. "that's different, you were different." you're shaking your head now, hands reentering your pockets. "i liked talking to you, i hadn't felt like that with someone i wanted to kiss before." he brings his leg up onto the bench, directing his body to you. "oh wow, you were actually interested in what i had to say, that's so kind of you." patrick says your name. "please, this isn't what i asked you here to talk about." his hand fiddling with the hem of his jeans. "well what did you want to talk about, patrick? because i don't have much to say to you." you return, your body shifting to the same position he's sat. finally looking at him, a smile spreading on his cheeks as you do.

it slowly fades as he begins talking. "art told me what happened at the party last night, he called me this morning cussing me out for how i treated you. telling me he knew why i ran away now." your head dips, looking down to your lap. "and he's right, i treated you awfully. you didn't deserve it, i was a piece of shit." he laughs, lifting up your chin to look you in the eyes. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. it was one of the worst things i've ever done, leaving you like that." his hand stays on your face, stroking your cheek. "and it is why i left, i was scared. because i did mean it, what i told you in that bathroom." your lip quivers at his words, desperately trying to not fall for his games. shaking your head and moving from his hand. "you're just saying that to get what you want." you tell him, eyes welling up. "i'm not, i promise you. i'm telling you because it's true, i was scared and stupid and thought i didn't deserve you." his eyes honest, his leg bouncing, hands fidgeting. "i tried to stick it out, but every time i saw you around and at parties, i couldn't handle it. i couldn't deal with how i felt, and how i let you slip through my fingers." quiet tears from your eyes, his hand moving to wipe them away. "so i left," patrick continues. "i went back home and tried to ignore how i was feeling, but when art called me this morning, i realised it didn't work. because," patrick takes a deep breathe. "i love you."

more tears fall down your cheeks, gulping before you think about speaking. "you hurt me so much, patrick. hearing what you told your friends about me, having you tell me to my face how casual it was after you told me you loved me during a weekend meeting your parents." his fingers tangle between yours, too hurt to move them away from his. "i thought i was the stupid one, for believing you could think of me in anyway that wasn't just some girl you fuck." his eyes welling up now too, listening to you intently. "and i'm still being the stupid one, coming here and meeting you the second you come back, because i missed you so much and i love you." you barely recognise that you're saying the words until it's too late. your lip between your teeth, watching the tears fall down patrick's face. "you do?" he smiles through the tears, laughing as you gently hit him on the arm. "of course i do, you idiot."

his fingers grasp hold of yours tighter now, wiping his tears on his sleeve. "i can't believe you've got me here crying, confessing my love to you." he laughs through his sniffles. "i know, what's happened to the patrick zweig that didn't care about anything apart from tennis and art donaldson?" you laugh, wiping your own tears from your cheeks. "shut up." he laughs at your words. "i know i've got a long way to go to get you to trust me, but i really care for you, and i really wanna give this a go." patrick says, his hands still fidgeting with yours. "my best friend is going to kill me." you laugh back at him, hand caressing his cheek as he leans into your touch. leaning towards you, meeting him half way as his soft lips crash into yours. pulling your body towards him as your lips move in unison. "you look really hot in my hoodie, by the way, cute that you kept it." he whispers against your lips, snapping your head down to the jumper on your body. realising 'stanford tennis' is printed on the centre, bursting out laughing. "oh my god, i didn't even realise, i just picked a hoodie off the floor before i left." hiding your face in his neck as he pulls you into his arms, holding you there for a short while. breathing in your scent, hands balled around the fabric of your hoodie, not wanting to let you go.

your name leaves his lips as he gradually releases you from his grasp. "i really am so sorry, you know? i'll never get over how much of an asshole i was." you smile to him, moving onto his lap, arms snaking around his neck. "i know, it's a good job you're so charming, otherwise there'd be no coming back." you laugh to him, patrick laughing softly in response. "can you actually admit that you remember this bench, now you're not as angry with me now?" he jokes, tickling your sides. "patrick, we literally had sex on this bench that night, how could i forget?" the two of you laugh into each others bodies. "god, you're actually my dream girl." patrick utters, blush creeping onto your cheeks, leaning down to kiss his lips. "shall we go home?" you ask him, standing up from his lap, holding out your hand for him. smiling sweetly as he laces his fingers through yours, following you back to your dorm. unlocking your door as patrick stops you before you push it open. "i just wanna say, i promise to never make you feel the way you did last time i was in this room, ever again, okay?" he tells you, hands holding yours, pressing small kisses to your knuckles. nodding your head softly at him as you enter your room.

"oh, i am going to seriously kill you!" your best friend laughs out, completely forgetting she had offered to wait at your dorm for you while you went to meet patrick. jumping up off your bed, she laughs and shakes her head at you, patrick attempting to hide behind your smaller frame. "i know, i know. but-" you start, cut off by her words. "and you, patrick zweig!" his hands up in defence, smirking at her words. "don't get me started on the torturous acts i will do to you if you hurt her again." your best friend continues, half laughing, half serious as she makes her way to your door. "i'm sorry, he just-" you try again to explain yourself, her cutting you off again. "i trust you, whatever makes you happy, girly. call me tomorrow and tell me everything!" she tells you, closing the door behind her.

sliding your shoes off your feet, patrick follows suit. the two of you discarding your hoodies to the floor, patrick sitting down on the bed, pulling you on top of him. laughing as you fall onto his body, knees either side of his thighs. his hands caressing the bare skin on your arms, placing soft kisses to your neck. "i've missed you so much, missed your skin, your smell, your lips." he mumbles, before placing his lips onto yours. grinding against him softly, arms snaking around his neck, tongue slipping into his mouth. soft breathing and quiet moans slipping through the kiss, the denim of both of your jeans grinding against each other. "are you already hard?" you giggle into his mouth, feeling his boner underneath you. "shut up, it's been a while." he smirks, slipping your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. "you're seriously telling me you haven't slept with anyone else in all this time?" you ask, hands slipping under his t-shirt, stroking the skin on his back. your lips wrapped around his earlobe, flicking your tongue over the skin, small groans falling from patrick's lips. "couldn't do it, couldn't even think about it. just wanted you." he speaks, eyes closed, distracted by your mouth on his jaw. his hands on your hips, grabbing the skin, guiding your movements against him. "god, where's the player gone?" you tease, sucking on the skin of his neck. "i'm a changed man." he smirks, lifting you up, throwing your body down onto the bed, giggling as you land.

pulling his t-shirt over his head, smiling down at you as he climbs on top of you. lips against yours, only pulling apart as patrick pulls your tank over your head. smirking as he notices your lack of bra, his big hands grasping and groping your exposed chest. lips continue attacking each others, reaching between you to undo the top button of his jeans, pulling down the zipper. using your feet to push the jeans down his body. patrick does the rest of the work for you, pushing them down his legs with his boxers, throwing them across the room as you remove your own jeans. patrick's mouth kissing down your stomach, pulling down your underwear with his teeth. heavy breathing filling the room, tension growing, along with your wetness. kicking your panties off your feet as patrick spreads your legs apart, kissing down your thighs, stomach against the bed as his curls disappear between your legs. your back arched, head flung back as patrick's lips leave kisses on your sweet spot. mewling at the feeling, grasping his hair as his tongue flicks back and forth over you. "fuck- i've missed the taste of you." patrick moans against you, causing more profanities to escape you. licking one last line through your folds as patrick kisses his way back up your body to your lips.

teasing you as his cock rubs against you, pushing himself in an inch before rubbing his tip against your clit once more. "jesus, patrick, please fuck me." you beg him, chest rising and falling. "well, seen as in you asked so nicely." he smirks, pushing in, bottoming out. loud moans leave the both of you, patrick grabbing the back of your thighs, pushing your legs against your body. his knees either side of your ass, fucking in and out of you at speed. sloppy kisses against your feet and ankles as sweat slicks his curls to his forehead. sheets balled in your hands, brows furrowed as patrick's name repeatedly falls out from your lips. dropping your legs down as patrick's body weight falls on you, his hands squeezing your waist, pulling you onto him as he pushes himself into you. wet kisses muffle the moans coming from the both of you, tongues gliding against each others. one of his hands moving around your throat, causing your eyes to roll back, signature smirk forming on his lips. "so pretty like this, baby." he utters, moving his free hand down to thumb your clit. "fuck- missed you so much." you confess in your fucked-out state, words coarse due to patrick's hand around your neck. "christ, missed you too princess, missed this pretty pussy too." mouth wide open as patrick's pace increases, eyes not leaving each others, a glob of patrick's spit landing on your tongue. the noise from you has patrick shivering, groaning as he watches you smirk and swallow. "fucking hell, you're perfect. christ, i love you." patrick moans, hand slipping off your throat, clawing at the fabric next to your head.

"i love you- fuck i'm close." you whimper, scratching lines down his spine. "me too baby, shit, fuck-" his hips slap against you a few more times, thumb still rubbing circles on your sweet spot as patrick's thrusts stop, his cum filling you up, painting your walls as your orgasm washes over you. both mumbling each others' names, riding out your high before patrick's body falls onto yours, sliding out of you. your bodies awash with each others' sweat and spit and cum, breathing together as one. patrick falls off to the side, turning to face each other on the bed. giggling at each other, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek as you pull his body closer to yours by his waist. smiles not leaving your faces. "i love you, you're so perfect." patrick mumbles, breathing starting to calm. kissing the tip of his nose as you reply. "i love you too."

patrick spends the week at your dorm, spending every minute he can with you. only darting off to see art during your classes, but making sure he's there to pick you up and walk you home when you finish. going on dinner dates, helping you study, bringing you to tennis with him and art. he hates being away from you, fingers always laced through yours when you're out and about. this week of domestic patrick shows you how far he'd go to get you to trust him, wanting to prove to you that you really do mean everything to him. slowly, but surely, the trust was coming back. meeting art for lunch after your day of classes, the three of you sit and laugh your way through your food. "are you guys coming to the party tonight?" art asks, mouth full of food. it's the one thing you've been scared about. patrick and you had been enjoying your time in your bubble, no real outside influences penetrating. a party with patrick filled you with so much anxiety, knowing how the last one went down. "oh yeah, sure, we'll be there." patrick answers for you, his hand on your thigh.

anxiously getting ready, patrick playing music as you pregame your way through your make up. slipping into a tiny dress, putting your shoes on your feet, asking patrick to put your necklace on for you. looking at you through the mirror as he does, placing kisses on your neck after putting on your necklace. "are you trying to kill me?" he chuckles, zipping up the fly of his jeans. "what do you mean?" you laugh back, packing your bag with your things. "you look so so good, baby." he smiles, pulling you to his lips. "let's go, princess." patrick instructs, lightly smacking your ass on the way out. patrick's engulfed in commotion as the two of you enter the party, by those who hadn't seen him back on campus, his hand never letting go of yours. "i'm gonna go find my girls, i'll find you soon, okay?" you tell him, kissing his cheek as he nods to you, being pulled into the kitchen by the boys. finding your friends hanging around on couches, whistling and complimenting you as you join them. "patrick's still here then, hey?" one of your friends tease you, smirking as you steal her bottle of tequila. gulping some down as the questions come flooding in. is he staying at art's? are you two fully back on then? is it official now? is he re-enrolling?

"oh my god girls, is this twenty questions?" you laugh, swigging down anther gulp. all their heads tilted, waiting for the answers. "patrick's been staying with me, we're doing well but not official no, and he doesn't know yet." you finally breathe out, passing back the liquor. multiple oohs and awws leave your friends mouths, before the tennis boys all join you. squeezing onto couches and piling on the floor as more partygoers join you. "truth or dare!" someone shouts out, everyone nodding in agreement. the big group of you go round playing the game, crushes being revealed, shots being taken, all drinking as you go. "patrick zweig, truth or dare?" one of the boys you've not seen before asks him. "dare, obviously." patrick laughs, sipping on his beer across the room from you. "i dare you... to make out with lucy." the group erupts, reactions mixed. gulping down the frog in your throat, chewing the inside of your cheek. "no." patrick states, shaking his head. "no offence obviously, but i've got a girlfriend." patrick smiles smugly at you, feeling the flush on your cheeks, sipping on your own drink. everyone whispering at patrick's words, as your best friend speaks out. "oh, do you?" she laughs, her head leaning against your knee as she sits on the floor next to you on the couch. "yeah, do you, patrick?" you ask, smirking at him. "you know i do." he laughs across the room, winking at you.

the crowd gradually disperses, patrick nodding you over to him, the two of you heading outside for a smoke. "girlfriend, huh?" you ask, as he lights both your cigarettes. patrick smirks, pulling you into his side. "well, you are, aren't you?" he says, kissing the top of your head. "news to me." you tease him, smirking through your cigarette. patrick says your name, head tilted. "well, you never asked." your eyes looking away, smug as you toke the cigarette. "will you please be my girlfriend?" patrick smiles, pushing your body against his. "hmm, i guess it would be a bit embarrassing if i said no, everyone in there already thinks i am." you continue to tease him. "please be my girlfriend." patrick repeats, laughing through his words. "of course i will." you finally give in, his lips latching on to yours. "i can't believe you did that." you laugh into his neck. patrick just shrugs in response. "i told you, i don't wanna hide how i feel anymore, i'm a taken man!" patrick chuckles. the two of you finish smoking, heading back into the party. patrick pulling you onto the floor where everyone has started dancing, his arms around you, hands resting on your ass as the two of you dance with each other. "hottest girl in the world." he mumbles into your ear, placing kisses below your earlobe. "hottest boyfriend in the world." you mutter back to him. "don't think i'll ever get over hearing you call me that." he states, smirking down at you before kissing your cheek. "i love you."

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn part vi

Ships: sauron/halbrand x reader, Galadriel x Halbrand, galadriel and reader DO NOT LIKE EACH OTHER AT ALL (yet), reader x ?????

Summary: some unwanted feelings bubble to the surface.

Tags: angst ish, reader gets mad, insecurities, the love triangles are officially starting, saurons pov next part is gonna be intense after some of this stuff.

Notes: this one might be meh, I wasn't able to edit much and my mind is kinda mush. The secret third ship is revealed. I'm also adding too, extending, and overall changing some of the numenor stuff. Again it's my fanfiction, I can do what I want

It wasn't long before bright light filled the room, you and your companions heading to the deck of the ship. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sun and the blue of the sky. You saw the ship captain and spoke before anyone else, “Thank you, sir.

He nodded simply in a silent acceptance of your words, his attention turning to Galadriel. The two exchanged words, and you were resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You didn't like the elf. She seemed to think herself better and more worthy of sorrow. You could tell she looked down on you, fueling anger inside your stomach. Anger and annoyance were both feelings that you avoided at all costs. Your father's anger had been great and tragic. You didn't want to tempt the fates by letting your own go unchecked. This elf made it hard to feel anything but those feelings.

“Nearly where?” Halbrand asked, his voice was what brought you from your thoughts, he was trying to get an answer as to where they were going.

“Home,” the ship captain answered.

“Well that tells me fuck all,” he said softly so only your ears could hear.

“Halbrand.” You gave him a look.

“Sweet one,” he teased, returning the look.

Before you could reply, the words dried on your lips as you saw great stone faces carved into rock in stunning detail. You moved closer to the edge to get a better look. The hard work and detail on the face of the mountain was incredible. You were even more stunned by the giant carving above the city, almost as though it was watching over and protecting the city beneath.

“I've never seen anything like this,” you whispered softly.

“What is this place?” Halbrand asked Galadriel.

“There's only one place it could be, the island kingdom of Númenor.”

-

You looked at the buildings, the architecture, the people. It was all fascinating, as if there was no poverty or hunger. The buildings were gorgeous, breathtaking in the ways they were built, and you'd never imagined anything like this in your wildest dreams. A small part of you began to hope that you could stay here and not return home.

“I never imagined a man like me could build a kingdom like this.”

“Because these aren't men like you, your ancestors sided with Morgoth. Theirs sided with the elves, and the Valar blessed them for it. Though elves have not been welcomed on these shores for many years.”

“I wonder why someone would choose to deny you entry into their city,” the words dripped with sarcasm as they slipped past your lips before you could stop them.

A bark-like laugh filled the air before Halbrand stopped himself, clearing his throat and wiping at his mouth to hide his smile.

“Perhaps you wonder, but I know why you'd be denied entry,” Galadriel had stopped to look at you, as if daring you to say something more.

“My reasons are but one, and it is for someone else's sins. Yours would be for being an arrogant, insufferable..-”

“Let's keep going, shall we,” Halbrand placed a hand on your shoulder, and Galadriel opened her mouth to say more when the ship captain hurried them along.

When she was a few steps ahead of you. Halbrand started laughing again, softer this time. “Perhaps, sweet one doesn't suit you well after all.”

You huffed a sigh, “I should not have said that, I know.”

“I will forever sit and ponder how you were going to end that sentence,” he teased with a twinkle to his eye.

Butterflies stirred in your stomach as you looked back up into his eyes, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

“You must promise me, sweet one, not to provoke the angry elf. Can you do that?”

You nodded, but he cocked an eyebrow. “Use your words,” his voice was soft and a little husky as if he might have been enjoying this exchange more than he let on, “I want to hear you say it.”

“Halbrand, I promise not to provoke the angry elf,” you said in all but a whisper.

“Good girl,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before continuing the journey.

~

“If blood is the price to pay to leave this place, I will pay it.”

You noticed the guards moving closer, your eyes darting to the queen for her response to this threat. Galadriel was going to get you killed at this rate. Without thinking, your hand found Halbrands, lacing your fingers with his, and he squeezed your hand as if to reassure you before he spoke.

He was very well spoken, very convincing. He could command the attention of all in the room with his words. It was impressive, and in the end, they granted you 3 weeks. You hated the sense of satisfaction you had felt when they mocked Galadriel. You were sure there was a reason she was the way she was, but thinking she's better than the mortal races or more entitled to grief would never cease to fill you with anger.

“You were rather good at that,” you turned to Halbrand with a relieved smile on your face.

“Just be glad I'm not your enemy,” he responded with a wink, squeezing your hand that was still tangled with his before he followed the elf.

You found the ship captain once more, “I would like to offer my most sincere thanks. I will forever be in your debt.”

He smiled softly at you, looking at you as only a father could. “I did what was right. I am glad you will find some respite in our great city. If you are to need anything, I have a daughter about your age and I'm sure she has dress and other niceties to spare. Take these, though,” he placed some coins in your hands, “to aid you in whatever ways you may need.”

“I appreciate that very much.” He was a good man, you could tell it. Of good heart and strong character. He had dismissed himself politely, and you looked for your companions.

Your eyes landed on them atop the stairs. You didn't know what they were talking about but they were close. He seemed to be earnestly defending something, you knew not what, and she seemed to be arguing against it. Just as the conversation seemed to be closing, you saw as he pulled her closer to him with that smirk and sparkle in his eyes and suddenly it all came crashing down on you.

What if you weren't special? What if you read too much into it? What if he was like this with everyone?

Or perhaps you were special, but she was just more than anything you could be. She was a beautiful elf, a commander of armies, and what were you?

The daughter of a disgraced mass murder who had yet to do anything of significance.

Your lip started trembling. Perhaps you were too sensitive, but it felt as if your heart was breaking. Did you really have such strong feelings after a week? Perhaps you had been more interested in him. Perhaps you'd allowed your feelings to become too intense when his had not. And perhaps you only thought he'd been looking that way at you.

You found your feet carrying you outside of the palace. You weren't the one that was confined to the grounds, and there was no reason for you to stay. You thought you heard a voice calling after you, but you did not care. You wanted away and to be on your own to think. To figure out what you want for the future. To figure out your feelings to figure out your plans for the next 3 weeks.

~

You sat on a bench in some courtyard, eyes watching as the sun dipped below the waves. It was nice to watch, a beautiful sight, especially now that night didn't bring worries of being cold or being attacked. For the first time in what seemed forever, you would have a place to sleep that wasn't rocking back and forth. Your stomach was growling. It was starting to gnaw at your stomach, but you didn't want to get the stares from the locals. You knew you weren't entirely welcome. So, instead, you sat and watched the sunset until it made its way beneath the waves, and the only light was that of the fires and torches. Your eyes wondered, examining the amazing architecture. It's what you had been doing all day as a way to avoid the insecurities in your head and heart.

A group of boys about your age had drawn your attention,their laughter was boisterous and almost contagious. You were reminded of what little pleasures you'd lost due to the orc attacks; laughing with friends was one of them. You were grateful to see it amongst others and know that it still exists. You must have caught one of their attention somehow because he excused himself, telling his friends to go on without him before coming to sit with you.

“I…sorry I didn't mean to pull you away from your group. I'm just…”

“You're one of the newcomers. One of 3 that arrived today, yes?” He asked curiously, and you nodded.

“You match the description that was given. You seem a little lost," He smiled warmly at you. It was genuine, you could tell. He wanted to help you if you were to need it.

“I am, I admit, but I've enjoyed getting lost here. Your home is gorgeous. We don't have architecture anywhere near this in my homeland, the Southlands. It's remarkable.”

He chuckled softly, looking around him, “This isn't even the best the city has to offer.”

“That is impossible.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “It is entirely possible, I assure you.”

You couldn't help but smile. He was full of energy, but at the same time, it was calming. It was easy to talk to him because he felt relaxed and relatable.

“There must be art and architecture where you're from. There has to be.”

You shook your head, “not like it is here. It would be like comparing a master swordsman to children whacking each other with sticks. We have wood carvings and some words engraved in stone but nothing like a whole, giant person carved in stone. Our cities are just wood or brick. It's not carved out like this. This is all incredible.”

“There has to be beauty, though,” he pressed his tongue into his cheek as if he wanted to say something else. “I have a lot of questions about your home. I've never left this island."

“There is beauty, yes. In the trees, in the green of the grass. In autumn, the trees turn red and orange, and they look beautiful at dusk.”

“So, there's beauty in the trees, in the leaves, in the women…” he watched you for a moment. You couldn't help but giggle at the comment.

“That was horrible, wasn't it?” He asked, looking down at his hands but laughing softly as he did.

“A little bit, but the compliment is very appreciated,” You stopped giggling and placed a hand on his knee.

“It sounded so much more clever in my head,” he chuckled with a shake of his head.

“My name’s Isildur. My father was the ship captain who saved you. I would like to buy you dinner as a way to say sorry for that horrendous comment I just made. "

You gave him your name with a large grin that made your cheeks hurt, “And I would love that, as long as you promise to tell me more about your kingdom.”

“It's a deal.”

[buckgasms]

Ok let's get some of these trailer park Bucky ideas out shall we?

- This is what I need in my life ☝🏼

- Maybe you live opposite each other and one of you is the new neighbour?

- You could be the newbie maybe and you find he's very helpful when moving boxes.

- You both flirt a little but nothing serious, just a smirk or a touch here and there.

- But alas, nothing happens beyond that, and you settle in to your new home.

☀️

- Ah but perhaps you start noticing that Bucky has a lot of female visitors throughout the week.

- You mostly only see them leaving his place, but occasionally you get a bit more than that.

- From across the way, in the late hours you hear them whimpering and whining as his trailer creaks. You might hear a hand meet ass cheek or a shrill giggle.

- It's a little annoying no infuriating

- But sometimes, if you listen really closely which you'd never admit to you hear him.

- His grunts.

- His groans.

- "That's it. Take it."

- It's the sweetest form of torture and you try to resist but sometimes it just drives you to the edge and you desperately need release, imagining his hot, sweaty body working on you.

☀️

- Perhaps one morning you are sitting out front, reading a book and he appears, waving off another woman who looks satisfied and somewhat disappointed to be sent on her way.

- You smile and try to go back to your book, but he's intrigued. And a tease.

- "Morning sugar."

- "Good mornin Bucky" you reply turning a page you haven't read a word of in your book.

- He pulls up a chair and settles next to you.

- "Wow. Our bedroom windows are pretty close to each other huh?" He remarks, a smile tugging at his lips as you clear your throat.

- "I never noticed" you say, voice clearly strained.

- He stands to leave but first leans down, right by your ear.

- "But I have sweetheart."

☀️

- You spend the rest of the day totally paranoid.

- Had he heard you? Has he seen you?

- You don't hate the idea of him wanting you, but you don't want to be a notch on his belt.

- If he's going to tease, why don't you tease right back?

☀️

- Ice lollies are your weapon of choice.

- You sit in your chair, book open, skirt short, top skimpy and a ice lolly popping lewdly from your mouth.

- He looks like he's leaving but when he catches sight of you he seems to change his mind.

- Instead he sets himself up with a beer and a pack of cigarettes and enjoys the show you e decided to put on.

- Naturally, your plan immediately backfires because damn he looks so hot.

- It's Bucky....

- He distracts you by offering a beer, which you accept once your lolly is finished.

- He distracts you by asking about your book.

- He distracts you by talking about where you are from.

- Before you know it, he's back next to you, you are feeling warm from the beer and you can't help but notice how blue his eyes are.

- But wait I am getting ahead of myself.

- Because maybe????

- One night after the "sweetheart" incident you see Bucky come home, head into his trailer and open his bedroom window wide.

- You crawl into bed and slowly push your window open, enjoying the cool air streaming into the room.

- "Can you hear me sweet girl?"

- You freeze, sweat springs up on your brow despite the cool air.

- "I know you can baby. God, you should see what you do to me. Fuck."

- Your heart is thumping in your chest. Oh god, he's going to give you a heart attack.

- "You're gonna touch yourself baby girl? Gonna think about what I might do to ya huh?"

- Despite yourself, you find yourself thinking all those things, doing all the things he says as the night goes on.

- It ends with your sweet voice calling out his name in the dark and a deep chuckle from his bedroom window.

☀️

- So...

- with all this in mind....

- After all this teasing and flirting he leans in a presses a soft kiss to your lips.

- "I wanna hear you moan for me baby. Properly this time..."

- He pinches your chin between his fingers and deepens the kiss and you instinctively wrap your arms around him.

- He breaks the kiss with a chuckle.

- "Come on sweetheart, let me give you the tour."

- The tour takes moments because you want to kiss him. He presses your body up against a wall, you can barely breathe as he dominates your mouth, hands squeezing at your waist.

- Finally you land on the bed, and he growls as your skirt flips up and reveals your skimpy underwear.

- "Such a little tease huh?"

- You watch as he unbuckles his belt, you admire his rings but swiftly get distracted by his thick cock springing towards you.

- He strokes himself but you take over, shimmying forward so you can get nice and close.

- "Oh I see baby girl, not so innocent are we?"

- His grin turns to a growl as your lips wrap around his length, fingers wrapping around what you can't swallow.

- Your chokes fill the room, as he sinks further down your throat, his hand lacing through your hair holding you in place.

- Finally he pulls you off him, smears your spit over your face before pushing you back down onto the bed.

- He rips your underwear and leans over, pushing the fabric into your mouth.

- "You just hold onto those for me sweetheart" he chuckles as he moves your legs, gripping your ankles, pressing a kiss to them as he lines himself up.

- His fat cock slaps against your aching heat. You groan around your underwear, as he rubs against you until suddenly he slides in, filling you, stretching you until your eyes roll.

- "Sweet jesus baby girl. Knew you'd be perfect for me. So tight. Takin me so well baby..."

- He presses your legs back, so he can bring himself closer to you. He pulls the gag from your mouth and presses a kiss to your lips. You try your best to return but you've lost control of pretty much everything.

- All you can feel is his cock stretching you and hitting that point inside that has been neglected for so long.

- "Wanna hear those pretty moans angel. Want everyone to hear you, let them know what a pretty little slut you are. How desperate you are for me, for this."

- He defines the word with a smooth thrust of his hips that draws a long groan from your lips.

- "Thatta girl, just what I wanted."

☀️

- It's hours of endless pleasure.

- He explores your body, working out every pleasure point, finding your secret kinks that you swore no one would ever know.

- His fingers flex in your pussy as he fucks your ass, watching as he spits on your heat. It sends you crashing over the edge again as he rubs it over your heat, a scream leaving you as tears track down your cheeks.

- "Bucky.... I can't... So sensitive" you wail as he slowly continues fucking your ass, a thumb lazily rubbing your swollen clit.

- "Not my fault angel, you can't stop coming for me can ya?"

- He still sounds remarkably put together, but he isn't. He's just as gone as you are, mesmerized by what you can do, what he can pull out of you.

- Laying out before him, you are divine.

- Your legs tremble as another wave of pleasure rips through you and it drags him with you.

- Your walls pulse and squeeze as you emit a long weak cry. It mixes with his groan, a loud curse slips from his lips as he fills you up, again.

- Finally he crashes down, dragging you in close as exhaustion takes over your body.

Like sign me up.

God I want a trailer park Bucky 🥺

[daysofyellowroses]

sandwich

carmen berzatto x afab!reader | 7.9k | based on this wonderful request by @kpopgirlbtssvt (sincere apologies this took so long!) | 18+ minors dni | warnings: smut, mentions of abuse, shitty shitty behaviour, language

finally finally finally i am posting this! it was not intended to be so long but i couldn't bring myself to end it, then life and work got busy and long story short, here it is! i have more requests to get working on, but i have a week off from today so hopefully no more delays! 🌼💗🫶🏻

🐻

“I can do this, I can totally do this.”

You repeated the words to yourself over and over, looking at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was just a job interview, it wasn't like you were going into battle or something. Still, that thought didn't ease the knot in your stomach. Job interviews were always nerve-wracking, it was just the nature of them. You'd lost track of how many you'd been on, they all started to blur together. Some of the jobs weren't even really what you wanted, but you needed something new. Your notice was burning a hole in your pocket, just waiting to be handed in. 

You stepped back from the mirror, taking a deep breath. Your outfit looked professional, you felt. A white shirt and navy pants, simple but effective. You forced yourself to smile, to try and feel more relaxed. The world wouldn't end, you still had a job, technically, had a roof over your head. A new roof, a new life. Now you just needed a new job and it would all fall into place.

Heading into your bedroom, you checked your phone to see which interview it was, your calendar flooded with notices. The latest was a hostess job for the Bear, a newly opened restaurant. You'd been a little surprised to get a call for an interview, while you had worked in a restaurant before it was a couple of years ago and you'd worked there for less than a year. Still, an interview was an interview, and you wouldn't be too down if you didn't get it.

When you arrived at the restaurant, you wondered if you'd gone to the right address. In theory it looked like a restaurant, but there was still a whole lot of construction work going on. You wondered how soon the soon-to-be-open was exactly. Heading inside, you raised a brow at how much work was being done, an interview on a construction site would be a new experience for sure.

After a moment,  a blonde woman walked through one of the open doorways, picking her way across the floor to you. She seemed to be heavily pregnant, but it didn't stop her weaving through the room with ease.

“Hi, sorry to keep you waiting,” She smiled as she approached you. “I'm Natalie, one of the managers here. You must be my ten o'clock interview, come on in.”

She led you to a table that had been laid out how you imagined all the tables would eventually look, with its elegant wine glasses and luxurious napkins and cutlery. There were, you noticed, three chairs across the table from you, your heart beating a little faster. You didn't mind interviews but when there were three or four people talking to you at once it could be a little intense.

You gave her your details and placed your purse on the back of your chair, taking a deep breath.

“Great,” Natalie smiled, placing the copy of your resume that you had given her on the table. “I'm just waiting for-”

“I'm here,” A voice called from across the room. “Sorry I'm late.”

You looked over, finding a tall man in a dark suit walking over to the table. He looked about mid-40s, piercing blue,eyes, pretty attractive but not necessarily your type. Not that it mattered, you told yourself. Finding your boss attractive hadn't been great for you historically. 

The man introduced himself and you did the same, sitting up a little as he sat down beside Natalie.

“Are Carm and Sydney coming to this one?” Natalie asked Richie, quietly. “They said they would.”

“Said they'd try,” Richie replied, looking over to you with a polite smile. “But let's get started shall we?”

“Absolutely.” You nodded with a smile, taking a deep breath. 

“Well let's tell you a little bit about us,” Natalie smiled. “As you can see we're still in the renovation stage, but we're close to the end now. We were a sandwich shop before but now we're moving to a more high end operation, which we're all very excited about. It's a great team we have here, and we're looking forward to building on what we already have.”

“That sounds great,” You smiled, glancing down to the table for a moment to gather your thoughts before looking back up. “I'm used to working as part of a strong team, so that wouldn't be a problem.”

“Excellent,” Natalie nodded, looking at your resume for a moment before looking over to Richie. “Well Richie here is our front of house manager so I'll let him fill you in on what we would expect from you.”

Richie nodded, looking over to you and you felt your heart race a little. For good or bad you weren't sure, but you decided to roll with it.

“As Natalie said we're going to be a high end operation,” Richie began, his gaze burning into you. “What does that mean to you?”

You thought about it for a moment, adjusting the napkin in front of you before looking back at Richie. 

“To me it means excellent food, a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere, and a strong focus on customer service.”

Richie was quiet for a moment and you found yourself questioning your answer. 

“Good,” Richie nodded, sitting back a little. “Now..”

It was fifteen or so minutes later when the door to the restaurant opened. Richie and Natalie both glanced over and you paused what you were saying. After a moment they looked back at you and you kept going, a man about your age coming over to the table and sitting in the empty chair beside Natalie. He gave you a polite smile and you felt your heart race in a way you knew definitely wasn't good but in the best possible way. 

“Apologies for my brother's lateness,” Natalie sighed softly, gesturing to the man beside her. “This is Carmy, he's the head chef.”

He smiled as he held his hand out to you and it took you a second to remember your own name. You shook his had, trying to ignore the spark that shot through you.

The rest of the interview felt like a blur, before you knew it you were saying your goodbyes and heading out. You had no idea if you had actually done well or not, with every other interview you'd had some idea but you were honestly clueless with this one.

It was a couple of days later when you got a phone call. You had just gotten out of the shower when your phone rang, you could hear it from your bedroom and quickly threw a towel around yourself before heading into your bedroom. You didn't have time to check the ID before answering your phone, clutching your towel around yourself. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, sorry to call so early.”

You vaguely recognised the voice, running through possible options in your head before it dawned on you.

“Uh..no, no it's fine,” You nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Don't worry.”

“Great,” Carmy replied. “I wanted to thank you for coming in the other day, we had a lot of interviews..”

You took a deep breath as you braced yourself for rejection. It wouldn't be the worst thing, but it still always felt a little deflating to be told you weren't good enough. 

“..and I wanted to let you know that we would love to have you on board, if you're still interested?”

Your heart flew into your mouth, your mind unable to process an answer for a moment.

“I..yes, yes I'm still interested,” You nodded, a smile breaking out on your face. “That's amazing, thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” Carmy's voice sounded low in your ear and you found yourself clutching your towel tighter. “I know you have to work out your notice in your current job but whenever you're free to start, we'll be here.”

“Oh, great,” You murmured, cursing yourself for sounding so dazed. “I'll hand my notice in today, and..I'll keep you updated. Thank you so much.”

“Don't mention it, I'll talk to you soon okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded, saying your goodbyes before ending the call and sitting on your bed for a while longer to process what had happened. It was a weight off your shoulders, of course, but you still had a nervous excitement about it.

The two weeks you had to finish out seemed to pass by in an instant. On your last day you were given a card and flowers, someone brought in a cake, and you found yourself wondering if anyone would even remember you in a week's time.

Then, before you knew it, you were getting ready to start your first shift at the Bear. It was the opening night, and you weren't sure if the nerves would ever end. The evening was all a blur, you felt like you were on autopilot, watching your own body in action. Richie took the helm much to your relief, and you just followed his lead. By the time you were putting your jacket on and getting ready to go home, you weren't sure you hadn't dreamed the whole thing. 

The nerves really hit on your following shift. There wasn't the buzz of the opening night, the pressure that made you strangely calm. You spent a solid two hours getting ready, looking at yourself in the mirror for a ridiculously long time. Your dress felt too short, even with your dark tights. Your makeup felt like it was too much and not enough. Eventually you had to leave, and tried to push your insecurities aside before they drove you crazy.

You arrived at the restaurant just in time for the staff dinner, taking your seat and taking off your jacket. You felt too nervous to eat, even though the food looked incredible. Instead, you opted to take a sip of water, glancing up and finding Carmy looking at you. He looked away when you met his eyes and you slowly set your cup down, adjusting your dress under the table.

While you forced yourself to eat something, you looked over to Richie as he launched into a story, finding yourself relaxing slightly. You were sure you felt eyes on you, but when you glanced at Carmy he wasn't looking at you. After dinner, the nerves struck again as everyone got ready for the service. You hung back for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

“Hey, feeling okay?”

You looked up and swallowed a breath as you saw Carmy walking over to you.

“Uh..yeah, yeah I'm good,” You nodded, clearing your throat. “Just the tiniest bit nervous. It's been a minute since I was in a job like this..I hope last night wasn't just a fluke.”

“It wasn't,” Carmy smiled, raising a brow. “Don't worry. You were great, really great. You can do this, just overthink it, alright?”

“Alright,” You smiled, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen slightly. “I won't.”

Service actually went well, at least for a while. You put on a mask of confidence and found yourself feeling better about your abilities as the evening went on. Until, that is, you were in the kitchen explaining an order update for a table when Richie burst in with a face like thunder and your stomach dropped.

“Hey,” He looked over to you and you already wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. 

“Did you seat table nine?”

“I..yes, I did,” You nodded, wondering what exactly the problem was, nothing springing to mind. “Why? Should I..not have?”

Richie sighed and ran his hand over his face, while you felt like you were back in school about to be ripped apart by a teacher. 

“You seated them,” Richie nodded, resting his hands on his hips. “Despite the fact that table nine is reserved for seven thirty, did you just decide not to do your job?”

“I..I'm so sorry,” You insisted, holding your hands up.  “It was a mistake, I take complete responsibility for it, I'm so sorry.”

“You should be,” Richie sighed, shaking his head. “You made the mess, you clean it up. I can't fucking believe this.”

“I..” You stopped yourself as Richie held his hand up, trying to hold back your tears and cursing yourself for being so damn overly sensitive. 

“No, you just need to stop,” Richie muttered. “I gotta think.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, looking over your shoulder as you felt a hand on your back.

“Don't worry,” Carmy murmured softly, meeting your eyes. “he's just a drama queen. You can do this, don't panic.”

You felt more eyes on you, some of the other chefs looking at you with surprise before they got back to work.

“Alright,” You nodded, taking a deep breath before looking back at Richie. 

“I'll handle it.”

You left the kitchen, holding your head up high and leaving the mask aside. 

After service was over, you slipped out to the back and sat on a low wall before pulling a back of cigarettes from your purse. A moment later you let out a long exhale and felt your body relax. 

“Mind if I bum one of those?”

“Of course,” You smiled, holding the packet out to Carmy as he walked towards you. “Go for it.”

“Thanks,” Carmy nodded, taking the pack. “Didn't have you pegged as a smoker. No offense.”

“None taken,” You smiled, wrapping your arm around yourself. “I don't smoke so much anymore, just after a tough day. Stress reliever.”

Carmy nodded as he lit up a cigarette, handing you back the packet. “I get you. But I should warn you this job will have you back smoking full time, nature of it and all.”

You nodded as you took a drag of your cigarette, watching Carmy sit down beside you. 

“Thanks for the heads up..and I'm sorry again for tonight.”

Carmy shook his head, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.

“Don't apologize, honestly. It was an honest mistake, it all got resolved. Richie just needs to have a moment now and then. He'll apologize in a day or two.”

“Can't wait,” You laughed softly, flicking your cigarette by your feet. “I really thought he was gonna kill me at one point. If I'm still here in a month I'll be amazed.”

“You'll still be here,” Carmy nudged you gently. “If I have my way anyway. Don't let Richie get in your head. You're good at what you do, embrace it.”

“Are you a chef or a life coach?” You teased, smiling to yourself. “I just get a little too in my head sometimes, overthink things.”

“Well join the club,” Carmy laughed softly as he shook his head. “We're all guilty of that. You just gotta push past it, I guess.”

“Hm, has that ever worked for you?” You asked, looking over to Carmy.

“Honestly?” Carmy met your gaze, his cigarette between his lips and his eyes sincere. “Not even once.”

“Hm, I suspected as much,” You smiled, looking away. “easier said than done, right?”

“Right,” Carmy murmured. “So maybe we just tell each other when we're overthinking. Get the thoughts out.”

“That sounds great, in theory,” You raised a brow, looking up for a moment with a smile. “Guess we'll just have to see how it goes in practice.”

A month later, you had started to settle into your role more, getting more comfortable and confident. There were a couple of slip ups here and there, but you always seemed to have Carmy in your corner. You got better at handling problems, and gradually started to build a bond with Richie, who you grew a soft spot for.

One particular Saturday, there was a plan to go for drinks after work. You hadn't been planning to go, but figured it would be nice to spend some time with everyone outside of work, in your normal clothes and without only being able to speak in short bursts.

Well, you and Carmy did tend to spend some time after work having a cigarette, sometimes it was twenty minutes, sometimes it was an hour. At first you would just talk about work, about the night's service, any annoying customers, but gradually you started to learn more. You found that you enjoyed just listening to him talk, when he would tell you little snippets of his life. It was never too much, too detailed, but enough for you to piece together a more clear picture of his life. You shared some details of your life, never anything too much, but enough that he seemed interested, asking you more and more questions. 

After service that Saturday, you felt like you could sleep for a week but everyone else's excitement gave you a buzz. You got changed in the bathroom, throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a simple red velvet top, stuffing your hostess dress into your bag. You felt more than ready for a drink, but there was one thing you had to do first.

“Didn't think you were coming out tonight.”

“For a drink or a smoke?” You asked, walking over to the wall and sitting beside Carmy. He was wearing jeans and a sweater but when you were so used to seeing him in his whites it made a difference. 

“Either,” Carmy handed you a pack of cigarettes. “Not complaining though.”

“Didn't think you would,” You smiled, plucking a cigarette from the pack. “I told Syd I'd head to the bar in a few, they're all gonna go on ahead. Richie said first round on him.”

“I'll believe that when I see it,” Carmy scoffed, shaking his head. “What's your poison?”

“Arsenic,” You replied, looking over to Carm with a grin. “Ask an old question and get an old answer.”

“Alright, fair,” Carmy nodded, a smile on his face. “if I was to give you a drink right now what would you have?”

“Right now?” You looked up for a moment, thinking about it. 

“Mm..probably like a whiskey sour.”

“You're such an old man,” Carm laughed as you rolled your eyes. “A whiskey sour?”

“It's a classic,” You lightly swatted his arm. “Don't knock it. We can't all be cool bros who drink fucking beer.”

“I never said I was having a beer,” Carmy raised a brow, holding his hand over his heart. “You're really gonna slap me with the bro label?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, taking a drag on your cigarette before looking over to Carm with a grin. “It's an old man's prerogative.”

You and Carm ended up arriving at the bar after everyone else had already finished half their first drinks. One of you had suggested walking to the bar, it didn't seem so far away at the time. On the way you'd stopped to get cigarettes, arguing over who was paying, Carmy beating you to the card machine by a split second.

The bar felt warm when you walked in, Carm's hand on your back as you removed your jacket not helping. He told you he'd order the drinks, disappearing before you could offer your card.

You joined the others, sitting down beside Richie and laughing as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his head on yours. By the time Carmy came over with your drinks you were caught up in Syds's story, taking a moment before looking over to Carm and mouthing a ‘thank you’.

As the night went on, you weren't sure how many drinks you had actually had, between your trips to the bar more glasses were placed in front of you, everyone forgetting who they actually owed. In the latest bar you'd all ended up in, you leaned against Carmy's shoulder, his arm around yours.

“Oh shit,” You heard Richie exclaim, slowly dragging your gaze over to him. 

“They got karaoke!”

“Karaoke?” You grinned, looking up at Carmy. “Oh wait, you're probably too cool for that, huh bro?”

“Shut up,” Carmy rolled his eyes with a smile, lightly squeezing your shoulder. “We can't all get up and belt out Sinatra.”

“Hey,” You raised a brow. “My drinks may be old but my music taste is not. Get me the sight up sheet.”

The lights of the stage felt bright and hot on your already warm skin, but you felt a rush of adrenaline as everyone cheered and your eyes met Carm's. 

“Hey,” You smiled, giving a little wave and trying not to cringe at the sound of your voice in the microphone. “I'm gonna sing a song that I love, and hope I don't butcher it entirely.”

You laughed softly as the Bear crowd cheered, someone giving you a whistle. The alcohol-induced confidence took over you as the music started, and you decided to just embrace the moment as you held the microphone.

‘All the lights in Miami begin to gleam

Ruby, blue and green, neon too

Everything looks better from above my king

Like aquamarine, ocean's blue

Ah ah ah ah

Ah ah ah ah

Cacciatore

La da da da da

La da da da da

Limousines

Ah ah ah ah

Ah ah ah ah

Ciao amore

La da da da da

La da da da da

Soft ice cream’

Any lingering nerves you had disappeared when you looked over to your table and heard cheers, your eyes meeting Carmy's for a moment. His gaze was totally focused on you, your heart beating faster as you continued the song, feeling a little more confident as you kept your gaze on him.

‘Catch me if you can

Working on my tan

Salvatore

Dying by the hand

Of a foreign man

Happily

Calling out my name

In the summer rain

Ciao amore

Salvatore can wait

Now it's time to eat

Soft ice cream’

You felt like you were in a daze as the song ended, smiling when there was a round of applause and making your way back to the table. Richie squeezed your shoulder and went to get you a drink, which you knew would have you fully committing to a hangover but you didn't care.

“You were incredible,” Carmy whispered in your ear, low and warm. “I had no idea you could sing.”

“Really?” You grinned, turning your head and meeting his eyes. “Well I guess I'm just full of surprises.”

A couple of hours later, you found yourself trying not to fall asleep in the back of an Uber, your head on Carmy's shoulder. You were drunk, but not so much that you had lost all sense of yourself. Instead you felt pleasantly buzzed and sleepy, wanting to fall into your bed and stay there forever.

“We're here,” Carm gently squeezed your shoulder, dragging you from your drifting thoughts. “Let's go.”

You let him help you out of the car, your arm linked with his as he led you to the door of your building. It took a minute to remember the code to the door, but you got there in the end, laughing to yourself when it worked. 

“Now I just need to remember what number my apartment is,” You sighed as you pushed the button for the elevator, grinning as Carmy gave you a deadpan look. “Kidding, don't worry.”

When you reached your front door, you expected Carmy to give a polite excuse and leave, even though that was the last thing you wanted him to do. When he didn't, you tried not to look too pleased, holding the door open for him and taking a deep breath. 

“Where's your kitchen?” Carm asked, turning to you as you closed the door. “I'll get you some water.”

“Just through there,” You smiled, gesturing to the door on your left. “I'm gonna go change.”

You went into your bedroom, leaving the door open and flicking on the light. You peeled off your clothes and dropped them into/close enough to the laundry hamper before heading to the chest of drawers and pulling open a drawer. You rifled through until you found a pair of simple blue pajamas, pulling on the t-shirt then the shorts. 

When you turned around Carm was heading through the door, glancing around the room before placing the glass of water on your nightstand. He turned to look at you and you felt your heart leap from your chest.

“Stay,” You asked, or rather requested, feeling a little embarrassed by your firmness. “I mean..if you want, you can stay. It's pretty late.”

“Oh, uh..okay,” Carmy nodded, and you found yourself relaxing a little. “Sure. I can crash on the couch.”

“Don't be stupid,” You smiled, gesturing to your double, albeit a small double, bed. “It's alright, I don't bite.”

Carm looked concerned for a moment before he laughed and shook his head.

“Ah what the hell. It's one night.”

“Don't sound too offended to share my bed,” You teased, walking over to the nightstand and picking up the glass. “Not just anyone gets that privilege.”

“I'm flattered,” Carm laughed softly, rubbing his neck. “Just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You couldn't if you tried,” You insisted, gently touching his arm before sitting down on your bed. “Now hurry up, I'm exhausted.”

A couple of moments later, Carm was down to his shorts, and you tried not to stare. He turned out the light before you could hear him crossing the room. You slipped under the covers, your breath catching as you felt him get in beside you.

“Comfortable?” You asked, turning onto your side and resting your hand under your pillow. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nodded, laying on his back. You could just about make him out in the dark, the lingering scent of his cologne, cigarettes and beer feeling heady and desirable. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” You murmured softly, taking a breath. “tonight was really fun..I can't really remember the last time I had a night out.”

“Me too,” Carm sighed softly, the mattress dipping slightly as he turned to face you. “I'll pay for it tomorrow, I feel the hangover creeping over the horizon.”

“That's the downside to getting older,” You shrugged softly. “You start to feel hungover before you've even gone to sleep.”

“Well you would know,” Carm retorted. “You old, old man.”

You gasped and reached out to lightly swat his arm, smiling as he laughed.

“That is uncalled for. I'm old, not old old.”

“Is there a difference?” Carm asked, his voice dropping low as he nestled into the pillow.

“Not really,” You murmured softly, your hand resting on the gap in the mattress. “But I stand by my actions.”

“Never had you pegged as violent,” Carm murmured, his hand resting close to yours. “Learning so much about you.”

“Hey I can't give away all my secrets,” You smiled softly, moving your hand ever so slightly closer to his. “I like being a little mysterious.”

“I like that,” Carmy laughed softly, his hand moving to lay gently on top of yours. “But I like everything about you so..hardly a surprise.”

You were quiet for a moment, a tired smile forming on your face. 

“I like everything about you too,” You murmured softly, feeling like you could see Carm clearly even in the darkness. 

“Hardly a surprise.”

He let out a gentle laugh, his thumb gently stroking over your hand. You felt your heart fly into your mouth, like you were suddenly wide awake and able to see through the alcohol-induced haze.

“We should get some sleep.”

The words had your heart dropping back into your stomach, your mouth turning dry. 

“Uh..yeah, yeah we should,” You murmured, closing your eyes and trying not to feel so disappointed. “Sweet dreams.”

Before you knew it the mattress had dipped again, and his hand was gone from yours.

Carmy was already gone when you woke up the next morning, and you decided to try and put the memories of his hand on yours to rest. 

For the next week at work, you felt like you weren't really yourself. Maybe it was subconscious, but you found yourself avoiding Carmy where possible. You sat at the opposite end of the table to him at family dinner, you stopped going for a smoke after work, and only really interacted with him in a professional manner. You could see he was confused by the change, and you hoped he would understand. In time you'd be like you were, you just needed time for your feelings to dissolve.

The following Saturday, you felt like you were going through the motions at work, flicking the customer service switch on when you needed to. Any time you'd gone into the kitchen Carm had looked at you with a smile and you had forced yourself to look away, guilt eating away at you.

Then it happened. 

The worst possible situation you could find yourself in.

The front door had opened and you looked up from the reservations list to greet the latest visitors, your heart sinking as you saw who it was.

Your ex-boyfriend, someone you had very carefully avoided for months was walking towards you with a woman holding onto his arm and giggling. She looked beautiful, was probably a decent, kind person. You wondered how long it would be before she realized who exactly she was dating.

It took every ounce of self control you had to stay professional, to smile and greet the pair. The reservation was under her name, and you knew it was a purposely chosen move. He lived on the other side of town, there was no way he would just happen to come to the Bear if you didn't work there, you knew it.

After taking them to their table, you found Richie and told him you needed a moment, which he granted you. You went to the bathroom and locked yourself in a cubicle, leaning against the door. 

He was out there, you couldn't avoid him. You imagined Richie getting their drinks, finding them to be a charming, loved up couple. Because your ex was great at making people think that. He was charming and witty and romantic, on the surface. Until you were alone with him.

You made your way back out to the floor, trying to focus on work. When you had to go into the kitchen you felt overwhelmed by the heat, the smells, the voices coming from every direction. You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. A moment later, you felt a hand on your back, your eyes opening and your heart calming as you met Carmy's gaze.

“Hey,” He smiled softly, raising a brow. “You good?”

“Yeah,” You nodded softly, wanting to touch his arm to ground yourself but forcing yourself not to. “I'm good.”

Back on the floor, you felt like you were in a daze. Any time you had to go to your ex's table it was like torture. He was perfectly polite, didn't give any indication he knew you, but you could feel his eyes burning into you.

After you took another small break to compose yourself, you left the bathroom and let out a gasp as you found your ex in the vestibule. You wanted to run to the door, go back to the floor. As you went to leave however, he grabbed your wrist, and you wanted to scream.

“Just gonna leave without saying hello properly?”

“Let me go,” You snapped, looking back at him and trying to pull your wrist free from his grasp. “Now.”

“What's the rush?” Your ex grinned, and you felt sick. “Let's have a little catch up. This where you been since you ran off?”

“I said let me go,” You repeated, gasping when your ex stepped forward and shoved you against the wall. He kept his hand on your wrist, his other hand resting on the wall by your head.

“Not so hasty hm?” Your ex smiled, tilting his head. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I don't owe you anything!” You snapped, trying to push him away and failing. “Get off me or I'll scream.”

“Oh try it,” Your ex laughed. “Your theatrics never worked before and they won't work now. “Now, maybe you want to tell me why you left? I never did get an explanation, did I?”

You opened your mouth to scream, the sound immediately muffled as your ex's hand clamped over your mouth, a furious look in his eyes.

“Don't you fucking dare,” He snapped, his hand pressing harder. “Nobody disrespect me, certainly not you. Look at you, you're pathetic.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, panic setting in. You knew what he was capable of, and you wouldn't be able to go back onto the floor if he lost control and left bruises.

The main door began to push open, your ex immediately stepping back from you while you tried to quickly compose yourself.  You felt a sense of relief when Richie walked in, your heart racing as you spotted Carmy walk in behind him.

“Everything okay?” Richie asked, looking over to you. “You were gone a while,” He looked over to your ex, skeptically, before looking back to you. “Just wanted to see if you were good to get back out.”

“Yes,” You nodded, taking a deep breath and avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. “Apologies, chef. I'll head back out.”

“She will in a second,” Your ex smiled, reaching out to grab your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin. “We're old friends, just catching up.”

“Well I have to go,” You murmured, trying to subtly free yourself and feeling fresh tears well up as your ex tightened his grip. “So..”

“Right,” Richie nodded, his eyes on your ex while you briefly met Carmy's gaze. “I'll escort you back to your table, sir.”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Your ex nodded, pulling you closer to him. “We just have some things to discuss.”

“Please don't do this,” You muttered, tears filling your vision, trying to pull your wrist free as your ex grabbed your arm firmly. 

“Hey,” You heard Carmy's voice and looked down at the ground, trying to compose yourself. “I need my staff to get back to work, and I need you to get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

“Fuck yes cousin,” Richie nodded. “He's out.”

“I don't think so,” Your ex laughed, squeezing your arm harder. “I'm a paying customer, show some respect.”

“Show some respect?” Carmy repeated, a harsh edge in his voice. “I'm giving you a chance to leave quietly, I suggest you take it.”

“Or what?” Your ex smirked, stepping closer to you. “I'll leave when I want. Like I said, we're catching up.”

“That's it,” Carmy sighed, stepping closer. “Get the fuck out of my restaurant right now before I have you forcibly removed.” 

You let out a gasp as you were pushed back against the wall, everything happening in a blur. You could hear Carm and Richie saying something as they grabbed your ex and pulled him off you. Richie hauled him outside before Carmy's hand was in yours, guiding you out into the restaurant and through the kitchen, the two of you finally ending up in his office.

“Sit down,” Carm gestured to the desk chair. “I'll go get you some water.”

“No,” You insisted, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please. Don't leave me alone.”

Carm was quiet for a moment before he nodded, stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you. You buried your face in his neck, clinging to him as you tried to stop your tears to no avail.

You weren't sure how much time passed, but before you knew it it was closing time. You assured Carm you were okay before you went to help Richie out front, giving him a nod as he gave you a concerned look. 

When it came time to leave, you clutched your keys tightly in your hand, making your way to your car and taking a deep breath. You felt like you couldn't breathe properly until you arrived back home and checked every room. Your ex didn't know where you lived, but it didn't stop you feeling a little paranoid.

After getting ready for bed, you decided to stay up a little longer, settling on the couch to watch a movie. While you were scrolling through Netflix your phone rang, and the brief panic that hit you subsided when you saw it was Carmy calling you.

“Hey,” You smiled softly as you answered, picking up one of the cushions and holding it against you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good,” Carm replied, and you could swear you heard traffic in the background. “Could you let me into your building? I didn't want to buzz, just in case.”

“Oh,” You glanced to the door before slowly standing up. “Uh..yeah, yeah just give me a second.”

You set the cushion down and walked to the door, pushing the button to open the door.

“Come on up, I'll see you in a second.”

You ended the call, taking a step back from the door and clutching your phone. When there was a knock at your door you took a second before opening it.

“Hey, come in,” You stepped aside, giving a quick glance out to the hall before closing the door and turning to Carmy.

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Of course,” Carm nodded, rubbing his cheek. “I uh..I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I was going to offer you ride home but I thought I might be being too much and you would be uncomfortable which is fair then I couldn't stop thinking about you and I thought I should-”

You held up your hand with a smile, tilting your head slightly.

“I'm glad you're here. I probably would have ended up calling you anyway so..it's fine. I'm just trying to find a movie, I'm open to suggestions.”

An hour later, you were sitting on the couch with your head on Carm's shoulder, his arm around your waist. You were only half focused on the movie, too busy enjoying Carm's presence after isolating yourself for a week. Cuddling up to him wouldn't help you dissolve your feelings but you were willing to overlook that, given recent events.

“Damn,” Carm murmured softly, his hand gently stroking your waist. “I guess they'll have to take down the government after all.”

“What?” You raised a brow, looking over to him. 

“I knew you weren't paying attention,” Carmy laughed softly, looking at you with a grin. 

“Oh shut up,” You rolled your eyes playfully. “it's not my fault it can't hold my attention. Got other things on my mind.”

“Yeah,” Carm nodded, clearing his throat and looking up for a moment. “I uh..I wanted to ask, how are you feeling after..after tonight?”

You thought about it for a moment, looking over to the TV and letting out a soft sigh.

“I feel like it was some kind of surreal dream. I don't hear so much as a whisper for months, almost a year, then suddenly he's just there..but I really appreciate what you did,” You looked back to Carmy, gently touching his arm. “I hate that you had to get involved in my drama but..thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Carm looked back to you. “I wasn't going to stand back and let it happen. You don't deserve to be treated like that. You deserve..I don't know, the universe.”

“The universe?” You repeated, smiling softly. “That's a lot to handle but..if I'm deserving of it I guess I'll learn to handle the responsibility.”

“That's my girl,” Carm smiled, and you felt a knot twist in your stomach at how much the words made your heart leap. “You deserve it and more.”

“Could you..could you not say that?” You murmured softly, taking a deep breath and feeling guilty when Carm immediately looked like he'd regretted everything he'd ever done. 

“It wasn't bad, I just..I want you to say those things but I also don't because it's just going to give me more feelings for you and I really can't even handle the ones I already have so..”

“You have feelings for me,” Carm murmured softly, and you weren't sure whether it was a question or a statement, looking away from him. “I..I had no idea. I mean, I didn't think you hated me but..you were so distant this week I thought I'd done something to you.”

“No, never,” You insisted, trying not to cry at how badly you felt you were handling the situation. “I just thought I could get rid of my feelings if I wasn't around you so much, that's all.”

“Why didn't you just tell me?” Carm asked softly, his hand on your waist feeling more prominent. “Am I so unapproachable? Oh god, am I unapproachable? That's it isn't it? You thought I would like flip out or something, and I swear I never would, not at you, ever.”

“I know,” You nodded, looking back at him. “I just..I didn't want to make things awkward. I'm not in high school, I don't want to act like I am. I may as well have gotten Syd to pass you a note from me, check the box if you like me kinda vibe.”

“Don't you want to know if I would have ticked the box?” Carm asked, his tone gentle. “Because I would have. Every time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and looking up. 

“Damn, guess I should have sent you the none then hm?”

“Well there's still time,” Carm smiled as you looked back at him. “Though I can't guarantee Syd wouldn't just chuck it in the trash. You know when you started she told me not to fall in love with you because the restaurant needs you more than I do?”

“Good thing you didn't then,” You smiled, leaning in a little closer and resting your hand on Carm's cheek. “I can stay.”

You leaned in and closed the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hesitated for a moment before kissing you back, surging forward.

Your arms wrapped around Carm's neck as he eased you onto your back, the kiss deepening. All the stress of the evening melted away as you felt Carm touch you carefully, smiling into the kiss as you reached for the hem of his white t-shirt and tugged it up. 

It didn't like long to have Carm completely stripped, a frown on his face as he looked at you.

“Well this isn't a fair trade.”

“No?” You smiled, picking at your pajama top. “ Well I'm not stopping you leveling the field.”

It took a little longer for you to be stripped, your breath catching in your throat as Carm took his time removing your pajamas, leaving a trail of kisses on your skin as he did. You felt exposed, laying on the couch in your deeply unsexy mismatched bra and panties, but in the most wonderful way. 

“Still not quite even,” You smiled softly, reaching out to gently stroke Carm's cheek and beaming when he leaned down to kiss you, his hand gripping your waist.

“You're right,” Carm murmured softly, pulling back and meeting your eyes. “It's not fair.”

He sat back, his hand slowly moving down to grip the waistband of your panties. You kept your eyes on him as he slowly peeled them down your thighs, stopping after a moment.

“Close enough.” He grinned,his hands moving to your thighs and lifting them up. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him move between your legs, closing your eyes as he slowly spread your legs, feeling the material of your panties rub against your leg.

“Oh god,” You breathed as you felt Carm lick a stripe along your already soaked folds, his hands gripping your thighs and holding you in place. His movements were achingly slow as he licked you, one of his hands slowly moving along your thigh.

It had been a long while since you'd felt so good, a wave slowly building in your stomach. Any urge to beg for more was dissolved as you felt Carm's finger gently sweep across your entrance, his tongue swirling your clit. You couldn't focus on anything, your hand moving to his curls as he eased his finger into your warm entrance, your eyes clenching shut as moans tumbled from your lips.

By the time he added a second finger you felt like you were ready to fall apart, his tongue moving slowly but precisely, exactly where you needed without having to tell him.

“Oh, fuck,” You moaned as you felt yourself get closer to the edge, your free hand clamping over your forehead. “Please..I..ohh my god..”

You felt your eyes roll back into your head, your breath catching in your throat as you came, feeling like you could see stars.

You wasted no time in pulling Carm up to you, tasting yourself on his lips and letting out a moan at the sensation. He pulled at your bra straps, tugging down your bra and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Please,” You murmured against his lips, your forehead hot against his. “Fuck me, now, please..”

“Are you sure?” Carm asked, giving you another kiss as he moved his hand down between your legs, a moan escaping you as he touched your sensitive pussy. 

“We can go to your bed, or wait, or..”

“Carm,” You breathed, opening your eyes and looking at him. “Please..I can't wait. I'm on the pill, it's fine, just..please.”

He met your gaze, a look in his eyes you hadn't seen before that had you soaked even more instantly.

“Use your words,” He murmured softly, two fingers pushing back into you as you moaned. “What does my girl want?”

“Oh god,” You groaned, wanting to stay in the moment forever. “I want..I want you to fuck me, now.”

“Anything my girl wants,” Carm grinned, slowly easing his fingers out of you and replacing them with his thick cock, another moan escaping you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs hooked around his waist, wanting him as close as possible.

You felt like everything fell away around you as Carm moved slowly, getting you used to the feel of him, before he was pulling you up into his lap, his lips wrapping around your hard nipple as your nails dug into your shoulders, his hands on your waist encouraging you to set the pace. 

By the time the two of you were laying on the couch, catching your breath with your arms lazily draped around each other, you wondered when you'd last been so unbearably happy.

“I'll understand if you immediately run away when I say this,” You looked over to Carm with a smile. “But.

I love you.”

He looked over to you, a wide smile on his face as he moved closer, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist. 

“I love you too. Which is a shame, I guess. Gotta find a new hostess now.”

“Yeah, sucks to be you,” You grinned, moving your hand into Carm's hair. “Though before you fire me could you help me fulfill this little fantasy I have of fucking my boss at work?”

“I guess I could,” Carm grinned, leaning in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let's get in some more practice shall we?”

[sparklingchan]

Serendipity || Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Changbin

Word Count: 5.4k+

Warnings: Suggestive, mentions of pregnancy (the reader is not pregnant) , mentions of poison, Changbin is sweeter than sugar. Set in the Joseon Era.

Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, fluff with very slight angst.

Description: The King of Joseon had chosen you as his queen. But there are those that wish for this union to fail. Will your love be enough to overcome the competitiveness of the Palace?

A/N: Hello everyone! Back with another installation of the SKZ Royal AU. I am genuinely in love with this one ngl. King Changbin is a rizzler y'all. Hope you guys have fun reading this <3

Do check out the other fics in the skz royal series. (The stories are not interrelated)

Here's the link to the masterlist.

Being a woman in this country is not an easy task. Especially when one is a candidate for the position of the country's Queen.

You'd dreamt of this for years, the idea sewn into every thought by your father even since you were child. With time, you'd welcomed the thought without a complaint.

"My lady, the Royal messenger is here." Somi informs you, and your nervousness just goes up by a thousand.

Did you manage to become the Queen and make your father proud? Or did you get disqualified and were now just a daughter of some minister and free to marry any other commoner like yourself?

You run down the hallway and enter the pavillion in front of your house, the colorful banners of the Royal entourage shine under the bright sun.

You straighten your robes and kneel down, head almost touching the ground, as a mark of respect for the King's verdict.

The chief Eunuch opens up the scroll in his hands.

"Please find enclosed the Royal Edict from the King's Court:

I, Seo Changbin, the King of Joseon, have chosen Miss y/n of House Kim as my wife and, by extension, the Queen of our beloved country. I have consulted the three High State Councilors and my mother- the Queen Dowager about the same and we have all unanimously agreed that she would be the best choice for the country as well as the Royal family, owing it all to her wits, beauty and manners.

Congratulations to Miss y/n and her family.

The Royal family would also like to extend an invitation to the bride-to-be to shift into the Detached Palace at the earliest as part of the customary pre wedding ritual. "

It feels as if someone had punched out the air from your lungs, you couldn't speak nor stand, while your parents and brother continuously thanked the Royal Eunuch, accepting all the gifts sent by the Palace for you.

But you couldn't move. You just stayed there, frozen. For life as you had known it has come to an end.

And thereafter begins a new, Royal chapter of your life.

*

"I'm going to miss you, my child."

The days since the Edict pass by in a heartbeat. All the members of your family were busy with packing your belongings while you were busy with mentally preparing yourself to leave your family and house behind forever.

Yes, you'd always wanted to be a Queen. Yes, you'd spent years getting ready for this role. Yet when the time finally comes, it hurts you to think about leaving behind twenty three years of your life.

"I'm going to miss you too, mother." On hearing your words, your mother cries harder.

But as usual, your father shows no emotion. His face is calm.

"Remember, y/n, there are no friends in the Palace other than your husband. You cannot confide in anyone but him. The other concubines will do anything to gain his favor, but you shall always be a step ahead. Be vigilant and loyal. You will make a great Queen." He says. Like the strategist he'd always been.

"Yes, father." You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Your mother clinges to your arm.

"We will try and visit you whenever we can. I'm sure his Majesty will allow."

"Yes, of course. You can visit me anytime. The Palace is only a few hours from here."

"Oh, my child! How will I ever live without you!" Another sob tears out from your mother's throat. You hug her with all the love and care you could muster up in that moment.

Your father walks out of the room, hands behind his back and face twisted into a frown.

*

The Detached Palace is to be a temporary residence for the bride-to-be. For over the next thirty days, you would be receiving lessons on various subjects like history, Royal Etiquette, sewing, cooking and most importantly- lessons on intimacy. The last lesson is considered most important, according to Somi, since it allows you to birth as many healthy heirs as possible.

After helping you dress up for the night and setting up your bed, your maids take your leave for the night, only Somi remaining by your side.

"Do you think I'll see the King tomorrow? It's queer but I'd like to know what my future husband looks like, at least."

Somi sighs, "I don't think it's allowed, my lady. I believe you can only see his Majesty on your wedding day. A month from now."

You're oddly disappointed. You had dreamt so many nights of seeing the King, holding his hand, being by his side, yet the King in those dreams often never had a face.

Was it wrong to yearn to look at your future husband's face? Just once?

A subtle knock on your door startles the both of you.

"Yes?"

"My lady, the King is here to see you." Your handmaid almost whispers the words through the door.

With unparalleled urgency, Somi helps you straighten your clothes and rushes off towards the door.

"Your majesty." The maids and Somi greet him with the customary bow, while you purse your lips in a line, head hanging in a subtle bow.

Your heart hammers against your chest. It's so loud, you're sure even the King could hear it.

"Please give us some privacy." The King commands.

And you heart beats faster on hearing his voice for the first time. Gentle, yet authoritative, just like you'd dreamt.

When Somi closes the door behind her, you almost regret wishing to see your future husband. The proximity makes you nervous and you could only hope you'd not faint in front of him.

"My lady, you may rise."

You'd almost forgotten you were still bowing to him. You mentally slap yourself.

"Y-yes, your majesty. " your voice comes out as an embarrassing squeak, your eyes still on the ground.

You'd prayed for this moment for years, y/n. Why couldn't you just meet his eyes?

As if sensing your inner conflict, the King takes two long strides towards you and hooks his index finger under your chin, sending a chill down your body.

"My lady, please look at me."

And you do.

And he's like everything you'd ever wished for.

Perfect, like a beautifully crafted sculpture.

His soft brown locks, his rosy lips, the subtle mischief in his eyes. Everything is perfect.

"Y-yes, your majesty. Sorry." You mumble.

The king smiles, rubbing circles into your cheeks.

"You may call me Changbin when we're alone."

You nod.

"I just came to ask if you're finding your new residence comfortable. We both shall be busy with lessons tomorrow onwards so I figured tonight would be a good time to visit my bride."

His bride? His bride?

Your legs feel weak.

"I'm finding it extremely comfortable, your majesty. Thank you for your hospitality. "

Changbin let's out a low chuckle, leaning towards you. His lips hover inches above yours. And when he speaks, you feel hot air on your lips, "I told you, y/n. Call me Changbin."

You frantically nod.

"Good. Better be careful next time, my bride."

*

When you wake up the next morning, you're sure you'd dreamt everything that happened last night.

But apparently not.

"The King is a dashing young man." Somi teases as she lathers a concoction of herbs into your hair. "You're lucky, my lady. He seems to be a gentleman."

But you are too caught up in your thoughts to reply to her.

Did the king of Joseon really come all the way to the Detached Palace to see you? What if he's disappointed with how you had reacted? But he shouldn't blame you at all.

You had not been expecting anyone yesterday night, especially not him. But he did come to you. And he touched your chin. If you focus hard enough, you could feel his touch lingering in the area.

"My lady?" Somi clicks her fingers in front of your eyes, "Come back to earth. We have to get you ready for the classes today."

Blushing, you reply, "What classes do I have today?"

You had three classes today: Palace etiquette, literature and what Somi insists most important: lessons on reproduction.

While Palace etiquette mostly includes lesson on how to behave with Royal elders, ministers, maids, the King, literature includes important pieces of literature that are important for a woman.

And lastly, the most dreaded time arrived.

The reproduction lessons.

The tutor shows you all sorts of obnoxious hand movements and some drawings of couples in intimate positions. You feel uncomfortable from the beginning till the end.

A woman at least five decades older than you is teaching you about intimacy? Very awkward, to say the least.

But you heave a sigh of relief when the classes end for the day and you make your way to your room in the Detached palace.

"It's just the first day, Somi and I'm already tired to the bone." You say, kicking your shoes off.

"Well, it's going to be a lifetime of time this now, my lady. And you best be prepared for it."

You reply Somi with silence. But her words make you wonder. If this palace life would ever be less tiring someday? Would it even be worth it?

Perhaps not.

But King Changbin 's face flashes in front of your eyes; his sparkling eyes, mischievous grin, his feather like touch- maybe he is what will make everything worth it.

That night, after your maids get your bed ready while Somi is combing your hair, a familiar announcement echoes through the corridors of the Detached Palace.

"My lady, the King is here to see you."

His smiling face peeps through the doors as your maids hurry out of the room. He wears blue silk robes, and you feel weaker in his presence than you did yesterday.

"Did you miss me, y/n?"

And thus begins a month of secret nightly visits by the King of Joseon to the Detached Palace.

Everyday, you wake up looking forward to the time when King Changbin would come knocking at your doors, always up to some jesting.

Sometimes, he brings you fruits you'd mentioned you liked or he tells you stories from his childhood. At other times, he tells you about that one teacher he will hate till the end of time.

But most times, he spends his time listening to you talk- about everything and everyone, about the skies and gods, about ghosts and afterlife, about favourite foods and literature. After you'd overcome the initial shyness, opening upto Changbin was as easy as breathing, almost natural. Of course, you were still nervous around him, but it's a feeling you'd come to like.

Is this what the writers and poets describe as 'butterflies'?

"Do you think I'll make a good Queen?" You ask him one night. He sits in front you on a cushion, across the room, a position you told him is appropriate for two unwed people (although he did not agree to it initially).

If your nightly shenanigans were to be ever discovered by anyone, you would not want to be found in close proximity to each other even though you were betrothed to each other. He's breaking Palace rules everyday as it is.

He hums, "Of course! I think you'll make a great Queen. You're so good at your lessons already."

"That does not guarantee anything. I might not be good at taking the responsibilities."

"Do you trust my judgment, y/n? I think you'll make a great Queen. And even if you are overwhelmed, I shall always be here."

That night he leaves earlier than he usually does, owing to the fact that tomorrow is the day where his concubines are to be welcomed into the palace. Five of them.

The thought leaves you feeling bitter and dejected, but you make sure to not make those feelings obvious. This is a rule for Kings, to take as many concubines as possible to ensure the continuation of the blood line.

"Don't worry, my lady. Your rank in the palace is above these petty concubines. They will not mess with you." Somi comforts your thoughts the next day.

"But what if Changbin favors them more?"

Somi does not reply to that question.

*

On your 18th birthday, your father had promised to you that he would make you the Queen of this country. He kept his promise because here you are, after five years, getting dressed to be married to the most powerful man in the country.

Your father always insisted that powerful men do not love but Changbin's sparkling eyes always contradicted everything your father had taught. Nevertheless, you know the competitiveness among the concubines for the King's affection is mad. More often than not, even the Queen gets involved in petty fights.

But you try to remove all thoughts of your father and the concubines today. Because today, you are to be married to King Changbin. From today, your name will be written in the historical logs of the Royal family. From today, a new life begins.

"Are you okay, my lady?" Somi asks, "You look worried."

"I'm fine. Just hope the ceremony goes well."

The ceremony does go well and in all honesty, you were not worried about the ceremony itself. You were worried about the aftermath.

The maids guide you to your new palace, and get you dressed in white robes for the wedding night. The night when you will finally meet Changbin as his wife. The butterflies swim around in your belly.

The bed is decorated with flower petals and a few candles are lit. Everything is perfect.

"The King is here." One of your ladies in waiting announce and you get up to greet your husband.

The maids leave the room as the doors slide open and Changbin steps in, also dressed in white robes. He looks dashing, but his signature grin is nowhere to be found.

When the doors close behind him, he walks past you to the bed, the scent of liquor evident in his breath.

"Have you been drinking, your majesty?" You ask him, worried by his odd behavior.

What was wrong with him? Why wouldn't he even bother to meet your eyes?

"Changbin." He slurs, wrapping the blankets around him, "Call me Changbin."

He turns away from you and is snoring away in no time.

The butterflies in your stomach flutter around before dropping dead.

*

You did not sleep that night. Even though you were sleeping next to the man you love, you felt lonelier than ever.

Many times during the night, you consider walking out of the bed chamber to the servants quarter so you could talk to Somi. But you couldn't do that. Because you were now the Queen of this country and every single step you take will have its repercussions.

When morning comes, Changbin wakes up in a haste and greets you with a subtle nod and walks out of the chamber in long strides.

You well the tears back. It's your first day as Queen and hadn't he always promised to be there when you were overwhelmed? Had he lied? Or was it Changbin's doppelganger who visited you every night in the Detached palace?

Somi comes in a few minutes later with an excited smile on her face.

When she does your hair for the day, she asks, "So, how was the wedding night?"

You want to answer her truthfully - how cold Changbin had been, how he had not even looked at you let alone touch you, how you think he had changed almost overnight. But you see the prying eyes of the other palace maids and swallow your sadness.

"It was perfect. Like everything I'd ever hoped for."

"He was gentle, I hope." She says through a grin, but it feels like someone pouring alcohol on an open wound.

"Yes. He was."

As part of royal customs, the new bride is supposed to visit the senior most female member of the family and greet her. In your case, the member happens to King Changbin's mother.

Somi dresses you in the most exquisite silks and adorns your hair with the most precious flower but you feel nothing at all when everyone compliments you on the way out of your new Queen's palace.

Your mother in law's palace is a little far from the Queen's palace yet it is as beautiful as any other palace. From inside as well as outside.

"Greetings, your majesty. It is nice to meet you." You bow in front of the Queen Dowager.

The woman-not more than sixty years of age- looks at you with a gentle smile.

"Come in, y/n. Please be at ease."

You're seated in front of her on a cushion while the Queen Dowager's maids serve you breakfast.

"I hope your first day here goes well, my child. Our family is thrilled to have you." She says.

"The pleasure is all mine, your majesty. I am honored to be a part of this family." You say.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if Changbin is thrilled to have you or not. Probably not.

The mere thought of yesterday's rejection stings.

"Y/n, truth be told, my son is a quite a troubled man. His father was murdered in front of his eyes. He was made the king when he was only 16 years old. It's been 7 years since then, but the burden only gets worse. I hope you, as a Queen and as his wife, can help him lessen these burdens. Can you do that?" The Queen Dowager asks again, sipping tea from a small cup.

"I will do everything I can to help him." If only he'd let you.

"Good, good. I'm glad. And one more thing, y/n, you know as Queen one of your primary duties is to produce an heir for Changbin's throne. I hope you're working on that, yes?"

Heat reaches your cheeks. If only the poor woman knew what her dear son had done last night. If his behavior continues, perhaps it will be long before the Queen Dowager sees the face of a royal grandchild.

"We are trying, your majesty. We will not disappoint you." You reply, sipping tea from your own cup.

"Great! I shall send all types of herbs and tonics to help you conceive as fast as possible. I shall also draw up a chart after consulting the astrologer..." the Queen Dowager's voice fades into the background as your mind drifts off to the nights in the Detached palace, when Changbin would come and spend all his free time with you, against the rules of the palace. At that time, you had been sure that producing an heir would be a beautiful process, not a chore.

But Changbin does not even treat the thought like a chore.

Did he not love you? Did his Royal duties burden him too much?

When you leave the Queen Dowager's palace, you walk past The King's palace. It is as beautiful and majestic as they say. But you wonder if you'll ever be able to set foot in the same.

As if on cue, you see Concubine Jung walking out of the King's palace, her maids behind her. The butterflies in your stomach burn with jealousy.

She has a smirk on her face when she sees you.

"Eun, did you know there's a rumor around the palace that the King refused to sleep with the Queen last night? Sad, isn't it?" Concubine Jung says.

One of her maids giggle and nod, "Of course! How could the Queen even live with this shame?"

You cry yourself to sleep that night, while Somi does everything in her abilities to soothe you.

Needless to say, nothing worked.

*

"My lady, wake up. The King has invited you to breakfast with him." Somi informs one morning, six months after your wedding.

"Tell him I have a bad stomach bug. I cannot go."

You'd be found dead before sharing a meal with him and that obnoxious Concubine Jung. You'd shared enough meals with them already.

The past months, the King had not visited you even once but often you'd see him walking the gardens with Concubine Jung at his side.

After the first few weeks, you had no tears left to shed anymore so when the rumor came in last month that Concubine Jung might be pregnant, your eyes do not water no matter how much you force yourself to cry.

"I do not wish to congratulate them." You say, true and plain.

"My lady, he's invited only you. Not anyone else."

So you agree. As a last attempt to make your marriage work, even if it's just for your own sake.

Somi dresses you in green robes- The King's favorite. You quickly make your way to his palace, as if someone else would take your place if you didn't hurry. It's sad your thoughts had turned so negative in just half a year in the palace.

Your father had told you the King would take in many lovers during his lifetime, and that being Queen is about having power, not being loved.

But you think he didn't warn you enough. He didn't warn you how lonely it would be to sleep on the cold bed every night, how painful it would be to see the King smile at someone else.

Even if you did wish for a child, how could you produce you a child without Changbin?

"Good morning, your majesty." You say to him when you enter his bed chamber. It smells like cinnamon, a smell he'd often carry with himself back when he used to visit you at the Detached palace. Back when you were sure the king had been in love with you.

"Hello, my Queen. Please have a seat."

The butterflies dance around for a split second.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asks, taking a seat in front of you.

"Yes." Lies. "Thank you for inviting me over."

When the maids leave the both of you alone, his demeanor changes.

"Actually, y/n, I had something to talk to you about." He says, casually, as if he hadn't been hurting you everyday for the past few months.

"What is it?" You ask.

He sighs, "It's mother. Ever since that rumor of Concubine Jung being pregnant spread. She wants the first grandchild to be of the Queen."

His words do not faze you, "How can I help you, Changbin?"

He frowns. Since when had your tone become this melancholic?

"Um, so if I have your consent, I'd like to try for a child tomorrow night. We'll see how that goes, yeah?"

"Okay. I will be honored." You say.

You finish up the food quickly and almost slide the doors open when he grabs your arm from behind.

"Y/n, what is it? Did something happen? Are your parents well?"

"My parents are well enough, thank you for asking." You say, keeping your eyes on the ground.

"Then? What happened? Is it Concubine Jung? Really, you did not have to be jealous of her. She's not pregnant. I can assure you of that. I have not consummated my marriage with any one of the concubines."

His words seem to have an effect on you. Your heart blossoms with hope but you keep your face and voice neutral.

"I am not jealous, Changbin. If one of the concubines get pregnant, I shall wish you both well."

You force your arm out of his grip and walk out the palace, not looking back once.

Changbin's stares at your leaving figure, now worried beyond relief that he might have broken the one person he cared for the most by his pursuits of a greater good.

*

While the past few months for you had been filled with loneliness, for Changbin it was almost the same-if not worse.

The first night of your marriage was filled with as many butterflies for him, as it was for you.

He had fallen in love with you and he wasn't afraid to show the world how much you meant to him. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, make love to you. And he had all plans to do that on the first night.

But that was until he had overheard a secret conversation between Concubine Jung and her father- Minister Jung.

For all he knew, Minister Jung had always wanted his daughter to be the Queen but being the dim-wit that she was, Concubine Jung could not even get through the first stage.

"Father, it's been two days since I'd been in the palace and that man has not visited me once. He had not even asked for my name the day of the welcoming. What kind of man is he? And you say I am to be Queen!"

"Hush, child. In this palace, even the walls are listening. Be careful. And as far as the position of Queen is concerned, you need not worry. If the King does bed the Queen tonight and she get pregnant, we shall make sure her pregnancy terminates before maturity. I have connections with all sorts of medicine vendors in the country, be assured, she shall never see the face of a child. After we weaken the Queen, we can take her throne as easily!"

Changbin had wanted to laugh at the man's foolish plans but deep down, he was worried as well. For you.

Which is why he pushed you away for so long and kept Concubine Jung close. While she tried everything in her power to seduce him, he refused her under the pretense of keeping an oath of abstinence for a year.

Every time she tried to even hold his hand, Changbin thought of you; your innocent eyes, your talks, your wit, your hands, your beautiful hair. No woman could make him feel like you do.

Changbin's secret informants had confirmed that Minister Jung had not one but two houses full of gold and cash he'd collected as illegal taxes from the local people. He'd also sometimes force husbands to send their wives to him in exchange for money. Even the thought nauseated Changbin.

Every time Concubine Jung visited, he made sure to collect some sort of evidence through her. He even visited her every night and while she snored away, he stole some of her gold jewlery and clothes to get them checked as evidence of the illegal taxes her father had been collecting.

And sure enough, after a few months of spying on her and her father, Changbin had gathered enough evidence by now to expose both of them at the court.

But he realised quickly that Minister Jung had a few tricks up his sleeves as well. The rumor of his daughter's pregnancy would make it difficult for Changbin to expose him easily, and so Changbin waited every night that the rumors would die down so he could run to the Queen's Palace and hug you with all his might. You were not safe unless the father and daughter were deposed.

And for some selfish reasons, Changbin had hoped you'd understand the reason behind his distance. But no woman could find a logical reason behind her lover being absent and it was horribly wrong for him to expect you to do the same.

"Are you stupid?" His friend, the eccentric dancer Minho had asked him.

Changbin had told him how coldly you'd behaved this afternoon when he'd asked you if you wished to try for a child. Most women would giggle and blush. But you were like a statue.

"You push her away for months and make her feel lonely and not loved and what not and you have the audacity to ask her that?"

"Well, yes. Mother had been pressuring me for a child and obviously, even with the pressure, I would never do anything that y/n would not have wanted but I thought it would be a great way to reconnect with her. Even if it didn't end in child making or whatever."

Minho let's out a frustrated groan, "You have to learn so much, Bin. But let's start with this- be honest with her. She's your wife and you ought to tell her everything. Give answers to all her questions and hold her hand if she let's you. Small steps first, a child can wait."

Changbin nods, " Okay, should I go to her right now?"

"Yes, you idiot!" Minho says, earning a slap on the arm from The King of Joseon.

He should be glad he's not being beheaded for calling the King an idiot.

*

You're almost done getting ready for bed when the lady in waiting makes an unexpected announcement .

"My lady, the King is here to see you."

Your heart leaps and the butterflies come alive again only to die down once you realise why he might be there. For a child. Isn't that why he's here? Isn't that why people get married in the first place?

"Y/n." He sighs when he enters the room, almost out of relief. He purses his lips.

"Is there anything I could help you with?" You ask.

Oh, how badly he'd hurt you. He could see the hurt in your eyes, in your voice, in your mannerisms.

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I really am. I know I have caused you pain and I cannot imagine how lonely it must have been. But I hope you know that I really do love you and only you."

"Then why the distance? Why visit Concubine Jung every night?" You ask, hands on your hips.

The tears that had left you threatened to return again.

And he tells you everything. From the conversation he overheard to how insistently Concubine Jung asked him for a child to how much solid proof he'd collected over the months and how he'd sent those evidences to the Minister of Security, who in turn ensured that by tomorrow the Jungs will out of the palace and be imprisoned for life.

It all makes sense to you now, of course it does. Yet you feel guilty. He'd been trying to protect you, all this while.

"I'm sorry, Changbin. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I only-"

"Don't apologize, y/n. It's me that should apologize. I should have somehow tried to contact you and tell you about everything. I'm-"

"No, no, Please. Don't. You only tried to protect me and-"

"No, y/n, it's all my fault, please-"

Somi overhears the entire conversation through the door, her mind finally relaxing after the misunderstanding had been solved between you and the King. She could no longer stand you being this sad. And she somehow knew King Changbin had his own reasons for his behavior.

She hears soft sounds of kissing through the door and takes it as a sign to move away from the door, and join the other maids waiting outside the palace door. She smiles to herself.

The butterflies burn with passion.

"I do not wish for a child this early. I want to be here like this with you for a while, just y/n and Changbin and maybe two or three years later, we could try for a child. What do you think?"

When he kissed you initially, you half expected this to end up in the bed. But it did. And you're glad it did.

The butterflies bloom more than ever.

You're wrapped in his arms, tightly. The nakedness no longer bothering the either of you.

"I agree. I want to be this close to you every night, not as a Queen or the mother of your child. But as y/n. As your wife."

Changbin draws his face closer to you, pecking you on the lips, "And so you shall, my love."

And so you shall.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

This Is Where You Stand With Me (part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: none

Part 2 here

Y/N's pov

We flew to Spain ten days before the Grand Prix. Carlos wanted to introduce Sophie to his family, and since his family is in Madrid, the two of them decided to go there for two days.

It's Friday night in Barcelona and Lando asked me if I wanted to go out with him and the boys. Of course I agreed because I don't plan on being in the hotel room until Sophie and Carlos come back. Since Lando is the only person with whom I am closest, I asked him to wait for me so that we go to the club together. And him being the sweetheart that he is he agreed to wait for me.

A few minutes after I replied to his text, here he is knocking on the door of my hotel room.

"Give me a second!" I yell as I quickly throw on an oversized t shirt and some shorts on myself.

"Hello!" I smile from ear to ear and tilt my head to the side as I open the door for him.

"Y/n!" He shouts. "Your hair is wet and still in a towel! You haven't even started getting ready yet!!" He scolds me as he enters my room.

"Well I told you I just got out of the shower! But don't worry I usually don't take long to get ready." I assure him.

"Yeah, yeah sure. We'll see." He rolls his eyes as he throws himself on my bed.

"If your shoes touch my sheets, you're going to have a problem with me." I warn him and he laughs at my threats, but listens to me and takes off his shoes.

"By the way you look very handsome." I compliment him. He was wearing a short-sleeved white linen shirt and loose, but not too loose, light blue washed jeans. And of course two necklaces around his neck that fit him so well.

"Thank you, now please start getting ready so we can see what you'll look like."

"So? How do I look?" I ask him 45 minutes later as I pose in front of him.

"I-I.." He looks stunned, measuring me from head to toe with his mouth open. He's never seen me dressed up like this before and I must say I'm flattered by his reaction.

"I hope that's a good sign?"

"I'm sorry." He laughs nervously. "You left me speechless, you look beautiful."

"Thank you Lando." I blush at his compliment.

"Shall we go?" He asks extending his arm for me.

"Be sure I'll hold your hand until we get there because I don't wear heels very often."

"As long as you'd like."

It was around 10.30 p.m. when Lando and I arrived in front of the club. We didn't get out of the car right away because there was a bunch of paparazzi in front of the club and I was slowly starting to get anxious. I didn't feel comfortable being photographed and ending up all over the internet the next day just because I came with Lando. I didn't feel very safe either, and I surely didn't want them to spread any rumors about Lando and me.

"Are you okay?" Lando asks me because he noticed that I was squirming in the seat and breathing rapidly.

"Yeah, I'm just, I'm a little nervous. There's a lot of them." I say biting on my lower lip and he puts his hand over mine.

"Just hold onto me and we'll be inside in a few seconds okay?" He says and I nod.

"Okay."

The driver opened the door for us and Lando got out of the car first. As soon as he stepped out of the car people started shouting his name and the camera flashes went off like crazy. For a moment I thought about not getting out of the car at all but asking the driver to take me back to the hotel, but luckily the desire to have a good time was stronger than that.

"You okay?" Lando was so sweet checking up on me.

"Yeah, let's go."

I climb out of the car and keep my gaze down holding Lando's hand tightly with one hand and trying to cover my face with the other. It definitely looked like we were a couple and that's why the paparazzi immediately began to bombard him with questions.

"Lando who is this? Is this your new girlfirend?"

"What's her name?"

"Look over here! You two look great together!"

At that moment I didn't care about the questions or the comments, I only cared about whether I would trip and fall in my heels in front of all those cameras. About thirty seconds later, which by the way felt like 30 minutes, we finally got inside the club.

"I must say you've got a pretty tight grip." Lando says and I can't help but laugh at his comment.

"I'm sorry." I try to pull out my hand from his, but he doesn't let go.

"I don't mind though."

And so we continued to make our way through the crowd of people until we reached the VIP section with a booth where Pierre, Kika, Max and Charles were. As Lando and I got closer I felt that all eyes were on us. Before my and Charles' eyes briefly met, I caught him scanning Lando and me and looking at our hands. I wasn't surprised when I saw that Ava wasn't with them.

"Hello, guys." Lando greets them and I give Kika a hug.

"Hi!" I wave my hand and everybody but Charles, of course, greets me back.

The night went great, we danced, we sang, we drank, some of us maybe a little too much, but that's okay.

At one point we all left the booth and went down into the crowd to dance. That was by far my favorite part of the night. I was so relaxed and careless I enjoyed every second of it.

Lando was dancing with me, he'd spin me around every now and then while we were singing to spanish songs from the top of our lungs even though we didn't understand a single word. If only Sophie and Carlos were here, I'm sure it would have been even better.

"Are you having a good time?" Lando slurs. Out of all of us he drank the most and it was very obvious that he was wasted.

"You're so drunk." I laugh. I was a bit tipsy, but I knew when to stop drinking because I didn't want to get drunk. He ignored my observation that he was drunk and continued to bring drinks.

"Lando, you should really stop. You've had enough."

"Nooo." Whining like a baby, he pulls me into a hug and rests his head in the crook of my neck leaning his weight on me. You could see it was time to go to the hotel because his eyes were closing from tiredness. He could barely stand on his feet.

"Lando, your're heavy, we're both gonna fall down. Stand up straight please!" I say struggling to somehow hold him so he doesn't fall and brings me down with him.

"You're gonna knock her down you idiot." Luckily, Charles noticed the situation and pulled Lando off of me. "C'mon it's time to leave." He says to Lando who protested a little, but listened to Charles anyway.

"I'll help you with him." I say and we start making our way to the exit.

A car was already waiting for us in front of the club, so all three of us sat in the back seats, Lando between Charles and me. As soon as he sat down, he fell asleep. My feet were killing me and I couldn't wait to go to sleep, and Charles seemed tired as well. I'd say he was a little tipsy too, but nowhere near as Lando. He definitely outdid us all tonight.

Charles and i haven't spoken a word tonight and I didn't want to be the one to start any conversation in the car so the ride was quiet, but luckily short. When we got to the hotel, first Charles got out of the car, then I.

"Lando, wake up." I say gently shaking him by his shoulder. He just mumbled something refusing to get out.

"I would prefer leaving him in the car to sleep since he had to drink this much." Charles says getting annoyed at him. "Lando, wake the fuck up or I'm gonna leave you here."

When we somehow managed to get him out of the car, I held him by one side and Charles by the other and so we started to walk to the elevator. We entered the elevator and I pressed the fifth floor on which Lando's room was and mine was on the floor below.

"Does he normally drink like this when you guys go out?" I ask.

"Not really, this is the first time I've seen him like this in a long time." Charles replies.

"Really?"

"Yeah, maybe you are a bad influence on him." Charles says, but I can't tell if he was joking or what he already meant by what he said.

"Yeah, sure." I roll my eyes at him.

When we reached Lando's room, we barely managed to find the card in his pants that unlocks the room. I was a little surprised, but relieved that he didn't lose it. We get inside the room and lay him down on the bed.

"Fuck, I'm sweating." Charles says while stretching his back.

"Should we just leave him like this?" I ask referring to his clothes and shoes.

"Well, I don't know. Aren't you gonna take care of him tonight? I bet you were gonna spend the night in his room anyway." As the words leave his mouth, I feel as if someone has knocked the breath out of my lungs. I was shocked at what he said.

"Excuse me?" I was immediately overcome with anger and the alcohol coursing through my veins definitely contributed to that feeling. "How dare you say such a thing to me? Who gives you the right to insult me like that? You don't know shit about me!" At this point I was almost yelling and I didn't care about Lando sleeping because he was passed out anyway he couldn't hear a thing.

"Well you two came holding hands, he was all over you the whole night hugging you and dancing with you. What else can a person think?"

"Lando is nothing but a good friend to me and someone who I trust and feel safe next to when I'm here alone without Sophie and Carlos! And I don't look at him as anything other than a friend!" I continue to justify myself to Charles for some unknown reason.

"And you don't trust me enough to ask me if you need anything while they're gone?" He asks and I just can't believe what's coming out of his mouth. For a moment I wonder if I'm crazy or if he is.

"Are you seriously asking me this right now? How do you think I trust you or even feel comfortable in your company when you constantly treat me like this? Ever since we met, I've been nothing but polite and nice to you and you just keep putting me down for literally no reason! One minute you are nice, attentive and caring and funny and then the next you have some unnecessary rude comment to say to me, or you don't even deign to greet me, or even better you don't even acknowledge my existence! You're so pathetic Charles! I had such a good night, but you managed to ruin it, congratulations!" I almost run out of breath after my angry rant and I can already feel tears welling up in my eyes, but he got what he deserved.

"Why do you seem to remember so good all those situations? Why do they bother you so much if you don't care, huh?" He asks taking a step closer to me. I am irritated by his calmness while everything inside me is burning with anger.

"I don't know maybe because I'm a good fucking person who doesn't treat other people the way you do so I don't except to be treated that way from you either if I've been nothing but kind to you! And you know what else? I keep thinking how badly your girlfriend treats you because she isn't there to support you when you need her. I felt so bad for you for the Monaco Grand Prix, I even wished to comfort you when she wasn't there to. But the further I go, the more I think that maybe you are the problem, not her." I turn on my heel and head for the door, a tear escaping my eye in the process. I was fighting them back really hard and I'm furious at myself for letting him make me feel this way.

I leave the room, but he follows me outside and stops me by pulling me by my hand.

"Wait." He says.

"No, don't touch me!" I say yanking it away from his grip.

"Then why weren't you there for me instead of her if you wished to?"

"Because of all the things I just said. And why don't you start giving some answers instead of just asking questions?" With that I leave him standing in the corridor of the hotel as I hurry to the elevator and into my room.

part 4 here

[heradion]

Emerald Star ( a s6 off screen Sterek ficlet)

Set after this scene.

As Stiles was finally given some medical attention and they had bandaged up his toe, he had calmed down and was breathing into a paper bag while a medic gave him some pills to help with the pain.

Derek had been asked to complete some formalities with the FBI and was taken away by some agents just moments before.

Stiles limped sitting carefully on the sidewalk by the road icing his toe waiting for Derek.

After a few minutes , Derek handed some papers to the agents before heading over to where Stiles was sitting .

" You're free to go ?" Stiles asked as Derek sat next to him

" Pretty much" Derek said " I see you're no longer screaming in pain, How's your toe?"

" Patched up for now,I'll be fine in a few days " He replied

" That guy said you're free to take a few days to recover before heading back " Derek said pointing at the agent in charge of the field operation.

" Of course he did" Stiles stated " They're worried that if this gets worse, I'd be able to sue them. Although I'm the one who convinced them to take me on the operation, I'm still an intern."

Derek nodded before standing up. " You could benefit from a few days off. Come on" He said reaching his hand out to Stiles who took it before carefully standing up

" You think you can walk? " Derek asked as Stiles handed the ice pack back to the medics

" I think so " Stiles replied trying to walk and wincing in pain

" Alright come on" Derek said putting his arm around his shoulder and one on his hip to help him walk to his jeep.

Derek helped him sit in the passenger seat before heading to the driver side.

" Where are we going?" Stiles enquired as Derek started the jeep

" My motel, it's a little further down from here" Derek stated

" You can drop me off at my motel and keep the jeep for the night " Stiles stated

" You'd better stay with me." Derek stated " For..uhm..your safety, so you don't end up injuring yourself more. "

" Oh, uhm Are you sure ?" Stiles questioned as Derek nodded

" Alright Can you stop by mine first? I gotta grab some of my stuff ." Stiles stated

Derek agreed as they drove in silence, a lingering sense of uncertainty and tension palpable between the two since the last time they had seen each other was when Kate had taken Scott.

Derek had left and decided not to look back at Beacon Hills which had bothered Stiles more than he'd like to admit because no one else seemed as perturbed.

Derek pulled over to Stiles motel and helped him to his room waiting outside as Stiles packed his stuff before checking out.

Derek helped him with his bags before they settled into an uneasy silence while Derek drove towards his motel.

Once they reached his motel, Derek grabbed Stiles's bag and helped him walk up to the room before unlocking it and letting him in.

Stiles walked in and crashed on the tiny couch looking around the room to find only one queen sized bed .

He pursed his lips wondering why Derek had told him to stay here when he had only one bed.

" Do you want to take a shower?" Derek asked

" Huh?" Stiles asked, his thoughts being interrupted.

" Are you going to take a shower or shall I go?" Derek asked grabbing a towel and sweatpants .

" You can go, I'll go after you" Stiles stated as Derek headed into the bathroom

Stiles dug through his bag to find a book to keep him occupied and was interrupted a few minutes later by a shirtless Derek walking through the bathroom door wearing only grey sweatpants with the towel around his neck as he dried his hair

Stiles lowered the book a little raising his eyebrows at the sight in front of him as Derek went to grab a shirt.

" Do you want to go now?" Derek asked wearing a black shirt that, of course clung to his body making Stiles roll his eyes

Does he always buy a size small? Stiles wondered before standing up and slowly grabbing a towel along with a change of clothes before heading to the shower .

" Are you sure it's safe to get your wound wet ?" Derek asked

" I'll just wrap a plastic bag around it, just to be safe " Stiles stated grabbing an empty take out cover he had stuffed in his bag as Derek looked at him questioningly.

" What?" Stiles asked

" Why do you have a plastic bag with you?" Derek asked

" It helps with panic attacks and stuff " Stiles shrugged

" it's not a hygiene thing, I'm very tidy , thank you very much " He snarked slowly limping to the shower

Once he had cleaned himself up, he headed out slowly walking with the plastic cover around his foot.

" You're gonna hurt yourself " Derek stated as Stiles sat on the chair by the side of the bed

" I'll be fine " Stiles stated slowly taking off the cover and placing his foot on the bed

Derek moved over so he was sitting by Stiles's leg before reaching over and holding Stiles's ankle gently putting it on his lap

" What are you-" Stiles asked trying to pull his leg away when Derek tightened his grp on his ankle not letting him move it.

" Calm down" Derek said looking at him " I'm only trying to help"

Stiles watched feeling a little uneasy as Derek's veins turned black and he felt a sense of relief on his injured foot before Derek gently placed it back onto the bed.

" Thank you" Stiles said rubbing the back of his neck nervously

Derek nodded before grabbing a book from his nightstand and moving further away on the bed to read .

Stiles narrowed his eyes looking at him wondering if he should let it go or say something about what was bothering him.

" Uhm, hello? " Stiles said as Derek turned to look at him " What the hell Derek? Where were you all this time and why did you just disappear after you left with Braeden ? "

Derek sighed placing the book down " That's why you've been giving me the silent treatment?"

" What, you knew I was pissed and didn't say anything ?" Stiles asked

" I was trying to give you some time " Derek said " and space "

" Time and space? " Stiles asked " What am I an astronaut?'

Derek rolled his eyes before saying " No , because I could tell something was bothering you, now I know it's cause of me."

" Of course it cause of you!" Stiles called out " Me and everyone else don't hear anything from you for months and the first day of my FBI internship you showed up on my screen as a mass murderer!"

" Why does it matter to you?" Derek asked

" Because it does, it just does." Stiles said " First you leave and don't look back , now you're getting caught up in this ?"

" I'm sorry, if I I recall correctly, you told me to have a safe journey and to enjoy when I told you I was leaving " Derek said shifting so he was sitting on the edge of the bed opposite to Stiles.

" Of course I did, you were leaving, did you want me to throw you a going away party?" Stiles quipped

" No, but when I told you I was leaving, that's all you said, then why is it bothering you so much now ?" Derek asked

" Because it does !" Stiles called out "Why is it so hard to believe that someone could actually care for you?"

"Because it didn't seem like it" Derek replied " If you cared, then maybe you should've said something more than have a safe journey. " Derek said furrowing his brows

" Like what ? What could I have possibly said to make you change your mind ?" Stiles asked throwing his hands up in defeat .

" You could've asked me to stay. " Derek sighed as he looked away

Stiles scoffed " Yeah like that would've made a difference "

" It would. " Derek said " I would've stayed if you had asked me to...but you didn't "

Stiles blinked in surprise at what he heard before leaning forward and resting his hand on his knee

" Derek I wanted nothing more than to have you stay" Stiles stated as Derek finally turned to look at him " But not because I asked you to...but because you want to."

" Beacon Hills was just a reminder for you of everything you lost, I know it got hard for you to stay and pretend like everything was fine.." Stiles shrugged " I'm not going to be selfish and ask you to stick around for my sake....not when you're unhappy. "

Derek took a deep breath shaking his head " I'm sorry I didn't call, I thought of it a lot but... decided not to because I thought it didn't matter to you."

" After everything we've been through, you still don't think I care ?" Stiles asked raising his eyebrows

Derek sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor, unable to meet Stiles' eyes. "I guess I was wrong."

They remained quiet , the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, before Derek decided to break the silence by getting up to grab a pillow and heading to the sofa.

"I'll take the couch" Derek said and just when Stiles was about to protest,

"Stiles, You're clearly tired and need a good nights sleep more than me" Derek stated "Let's not argue about this."

Stiles agreed quietly before settling into the bed as Derek turned off the light.

Despite the words left unsaid, their shared history and the bond they shared spoke volumes, echoing through the silence that stretched between them.

(Part.1) / (Part.2) / (Part.3) /(Part.4) /(Part.5)

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

Prologue

Chapter One

November 6th, 1983

" - I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you, I know you were right believing for so long - ," Chrissy Henderson was cut off by a pillow to the face. "Nancy Wheeler!"

"Shut up!" Nancy hissed.

Chrissy giggled as she collapsed on the bed next to her. They were sitting in Nancy's room while Chrissy's brother and Nancy's played Dungeons and Dragons down in the basement.

"Oh, come on, what's the point of being your friend if I can't tease you mercilessly about you and Steve?" Chrissy asked.

"All we did was make out," Nancy rolled her eyes.

"And you like him," Chrissy said.

"He's cute," she shrugged.

"You like him," Chrissy sang. "Admit it."

"Okay, so, I do. . .what if he doesn't like me?" Nancy asked.

"He wouldn't be showing interest in you if he didn't like you," Chrissy sighed.

"He's just. . . slept with a lot of women," Nancy said.

"I didn't think you were the kind of girl who listens to rumors, Nance," Chrissy sighed, making a clucking noise of disapproval. "Shame. . . Three isn't a lot."

"How do you know?" Nancy asked.

"I've known him since before I was adopted. Of the jocks to date, he's the one you'd want," Chrissy said. "He's good."

"Tommy and Carol?" Nancy asked.

"Oh, no, they're assholes. Tommy's been Steve’s friend for as long as he can remember. It's hard to walk away from that," she said.

"How come you never dated Steve?" Nancy asked.

"I think it's because our asshole parents wanted us to date that made us not want to," Chrissy replied.

"That makes sense," Nancy said.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Robin, Nancy's fraternal twin sister, came blundering in.

"Coming through!" Robin exclaimed.

"What did I say about coming into my room without knocking?!" Nancy shrieked. "Asshole! What are you doing?"

Robin whistled cheerfully as she began digging through Nancy's closet.

"Making sure you didn't steal my clothes again," Robin said.

"Why in the hell would I ever do that?" Nancy asked.

"To annoy your darling older sister," Robin replied and pulled a pink top out of the closet. "What's this then?"

"It's pink, so it's mine," she replied. "By the way, I'm older!"

"Looks dark to me," Robin grinned. "So, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Nancy hissed.

"Boys," Chrissy replied with a grin.

"Chrissy!" Nancy hissed.

"Ew, gross. Well, I'm out of here. The boys are wrapping it up downstairs," Robin said.

Robin left with Nancy's shirt. Nancy groaned and threw a pillow at the door.

"Ugh, I can't believe we ever shared a womb," Nancy groaned.

"Speaking of siblings, I'm pretty sure mine is going to come up here soon with an excuse to talk to you," Chrissy giggled. "So be nice."

"What are you talking about? I'm always nice," Nancy said, but she was fighting a smile.

"I love you, Nancy, but no, you're not," Chrissy giggled. "Not all the time."

Speak the devil, and the devil shall appear. Dustin stood in the doorway, holding a pizza box.

"Hey, Nance, there's one more pizza if you want it," Dustin said.

"No, thank you," Nancy said.

"I'll take it, though. Thanks for asking me if I wanted it. . . Butthead," Chrissy said, and Nancy raised her eyebrow. "Oh, I'm his sister, I'm allowed to be mean to him."

Chrissy chewed happily on the pizza as she escorted her brother downstairs. She finished before walking through the kitchen.

"Thanks for having us, Mrs. Wheeler," Chrissy said.

"You're more than welcome. Tell your mom I said hello. Get home safe, you two," Mrs. Wheeler said.

"Yes, ma'am," they said before walking outside.

It was cool outside, not too cool, but enough to make Chrissy shiver a little when she picked up her bike. She was saving up to buy her own car, and though shifts at Benny's diner didn't offer much, she enjoyed working there. She rode behind Dustin and Will, keeping an eye on them with a fond smile.

"Race you to our place?" Dustin asked Will. "Winner gets any comic."

"Any comic?" Will asked delightfully before racing ahead.

"Hey! Hey! I didn't say go! I'm going to kill you!" Dustin yelled.

"Slow down, guys!" Chrissy laughed as she sped up.

"I'll take your X-Men 134!" Will yelled.

"Hey, Will, you sure you don't want me to ride back to your place with you?!" Chrissy asked as she usually did.

"I'm fine! Thank you!" Will hollered as he sped off.

"Son of a bitch!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Well, you should know better than to bet against Will the Wise," Chrissy said with a smile as she put her bike away.

"Yeah, yeah," Dustin huffed as he walked inside the house with his sister.

Chrissy greeted their mother with a kiss and scratched behind Mews' ear.

"How'd your game go, Dusty? Did you win?" Claudia asked with a grin, and Chrissy bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"That's not how it works, mom!" Dustin exclaimed before launching into the replay.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight! Good luck, mom!" Chrissy exclaimed as she headed towards the bedroom.

Her room was well lived in with pink walls and blue curtains. Her bedspread was a floral blue and unmade. . .oops. There were clothes thrown about but not too terribly, and they were mostly out of the way. Photographs littered the wall of a smiling, happy Chrissy with her proper family. Her favorite was one with her brother in a fort in the living room after a couple of weeks living there, reading Charlotte's Web. Dustin had spent so much time trying to make her feel better, trying to spin a negative into a positive. It worked. After Dustin went on about how intelligent pigs were, Chrissy went out and bought a little pig figurine to put on her dresser. She got a spider one for Dustin, which now sits happily on his own dresser. Now, whenever she thinks of pigs and she looks at the pig, she thinks of happy memories of her brother.

"Hey, Wilbur," she greeted and touched his snout.

Chrissy was about to start undressing when there came a tap on her bedroom window. She jumped and whirled around, clutching the sweater to her chest even though she wasn't even naked.

"Argyle!" Chrissy exclaimed and threw her sweater on the bed before opening her window.

"Hey, Fair Lady," Argyle grinned. "Wanted to return this book to you."

"You couldn't have returned it when you stopped by cheer practice tomorrow?" Chrissy asked, taking it.

"Oh. Yeah, I could have done that," Argyle said, and he sighed. "It's amazing, isn't it?"

"What is?" Chrissy asked.

"It seems like only yesterday that we were meeting at Benny's diner, and you were serving me food. . .now, here we are," Argyle said. "Isn't it funny how time works? I want you to know that I'm going to look back on our friendship fondly."

"Argyle. . .we met two weeks ago," Chrissy giggled and then paused. "Wait, did your dad finally decide if he wants to put a Surfer Boy here?"

"He didn't tell me yet. He wants to tell the whole family when we get back to California," Argyle said. "I'm going to miss you, Lady Henderson."

"You as well, sir Argyle," Chrissy said with a grin. "I really hope that you'll be able to move to Hawkins. Although, you might miss California."

"I go wherever my story takes me," Argyle said with a grin. "And this place is as beautiful to me as California. Goodnight, Chrissy."

She watched him walk off into the darkness, and she smiled. She got dressed, brushed her teeth, and slipped underneath the covers before reaching over to turn off the light. Chrissy drifted off to sleep, hoping that the next day would be just as good.

The next day. . .

Chrissy met Barb and Nancy at Nancy's locker. She could already guess what they were talking about.

"I'm telling you, it's a one - two time thing!" Nancy exclaimed as she opened her locker, and a note fell out.

MEET ME IN THE BATHROOM. - STEVE.

"You were saying?" Barb asked.

Nancy rolled her eyes at Barb and bit her lip, hesitating.

"It's okay if you want to go," Chrissy said, nudging her. "We'll be fine."

Nancy smiled gratefully at her before rushing off to meet Steve.

"I can't wait until Steve loses interest, but I do wish he would stop messing with her," Barb sighed.

"That's a rotten thing to say," Chrissy frowned.

"Oh, come on, Steve Harrington is notorious for leaving women high and dry," Barb said, rolling her eyes.

"It sounds like you're basing an opinion on silly rumors from other people," Chrissy said. "I thought you were better than that, Barbara. How about you get to know him before you start judging him?"

"Ugh! Why do you have to be right? Yeah, okay, so maybe that is shitty of me, but I just don't want this thing between him and Nancy to be serious is all," Barb said.

"Why?" Chrissy asked.

"It's - It's nothing," Barb said, blushing.

"You're my friend, too, Barb. Whenever you're ready to talk to me, I'm here," Chrissy said softly.

"Yeah, okay, let's get to class, I do not want to be late," Barb said, sniffling.

After school, Chrissy was walking to cheer practice when she spotted Jason Carver waiting for her. She sighed and pinched her nose before painting a forced smile on her face.

"Jason," she greeted politely.

"Hey, Chrissy," Jason smiled. "I was just wondering - "

"No," Chrissy said shortly.

"You didn't let me finish," Jason said.

"I know what you were going to say, and the answer is no. It's always no," Chrissy said. "Now, leave me alone."

"Come on, Chrissy, what's other people going to say when you're the only cheerleader without a boyfriend?" Jason asked.

"The fact that you care about that is sad. I am not the only cheerleader without a boyfriend, and quite frankly, I don't give two shits about what other people think. Doing that for my birth mother nearly killed me. You'd spend your time better doing the same," Chrissy said. "I do not want to date you, and I've tried to be nice about it, but quite frankly, I am tired of you being my shadow."

Jason was about to say something when he looked up and his eyes widened.

"Is there a problem?" Hopper's voice asked.

"No, sir," Jason said quickly. "I, um, going to go."

"That would be a good idea," Hopper said.

"Oh, I thought he was going to - ," Chrissy said, turning around and stopping when she saw Hopper's face. "What's wrong?"

"When Will rode away from your house last night, did you notice anything strange?" Hopper asked.

"No," Chrissy said. "Why?"

"Will hasn't been seen since last night," Hopper replied softly.

"Oh no! I knew I should have rode back with him!" Chrissy gasped.

"Hey, hey, it's not your fault. I just questioned your brother and his friends," Hopper said. "Thought you should know in case you wanted to check on him. I need to get back to it."

He squeezed her shoulder before walking away. Chrissy frowns, and that's when she spotted Heather. She ran over to her.

"Hey, can you tell the others I won't be able to make it cheer practice this evening?" Chrissy asked. "My brother needs me."

"Is everything okay?" Heather asked.

"I don't know yet," she replied and started heading towards the middle school.

She found Dustin huddled with Lucas and Mike. Dustin looked at her with surprise.

"Don't you have cheer practice?" Dustin asked.

"Skipping it entirely. The Chief told me what happened," Chrissy said softly. "Are you boys alright?"

"We need to look for Will," Mike said.

"The first thing you need to do is go home and be with your parents. Let Hopper handle this," Chrissy said. "Look, maybe an animal spooked him, and he's hiding somewhere. You're not helping Will or your parents if you get lost too."

When they got home, Chrissy made sure to call Argyle and update him before calling in sick to work. Dinner was a quiet affair. . .well, mostly. Claudia tried to get Dustin to eat or talk, but after several moments, he pushed his plate away.

"I'm not very hungry. Can I go lay down?" Dustin asked.

"Sure thing, honey," Claudia said and watched him leave. "Oh, I should probably check on him."

"Give him a few minutes, mom, and then we check on him," Chrissy said. "I'll clean up."

After cleaning up, Chrissy and Claudia went to Dustin's room to check on him, only to find it empty. The window was wide open.

"Goddamn it," Chrissy cursed.

Chapter Two

[gothbass]

(Images mostly from Pinterest)

One Of Us (Pt. 1)

★ Rhea Ripley x [afab] Reader

Warnings: smut, language and lore, so far.

Word count: 3,449.

While you're watching another WWE match starring Rhea Ripley, as per usual, you notice that she seems a bit distracted—looking over at you every now and again. Despite that, she manages to keep her focus just enough to acquire another win—yet again. As the match has ended, her gaze swiftly shifts over to you. She slides under the ropes of the ring to approach you at the barrier, given you got a front row seat.

She leans onto the barrier with crossed arms and gives you what looks to be a cold glare with a subtle smile, though she's just analyzing your face. Taking in the detail of your facial structure, if you will. She gives you a subtle smirk before beginning to walk away, but looks back as soon as you suddenly stop her in her tracks.

You've grabbed ahold of her wrist to stop her from walking away from you so soon, yet you freeze up as she quickly looks back at you. She notices this, yet it doesn't seem to bother her. She stares right at you—almost as if she's staring through you. Her smirk still remains. A single brow is raised slightly as she waits for you to speak.

“What was that all about?” you ask, in a brutish tone and in curiosity as to why she came over in the first place just to stare at you for a single moment and walk away just as quickly.

Rhea's smirk grows a bit. It's almost as if she's amused by the fact you've asked such a question. She stares at you in silence, almost as if she's waiting. What for? Perhaps a response, or perhaps something else—unbeknownst amidst your surroundings.

Then, she finally speaks up.

“Hm?” You tilt your head, confused. “Is that all you walked over here to do? Couldn’t’ve just stared for longer rather than have started to walk away so soon?” You saw a chance to be bold for the first time in what seemed like years, and you absolutely took it. Rhea laughs a little as soon as she hears this. She leans back, still holding onto her smirk. She leans forward again—she seems to enjoy the banter.

“Oh really? You'd rather I kept staring at you?” Her expected bold demeanor is present.

“Don't start what you can't finish.” A cold, while also playful, expression rested at ease on your face.

“Is that a challenge?”

“It most certainly is,” you reciprocate her tone and demeanor, which catches her a bit off-guard, though she's clearly up for it. She stares very intensely at you for a few seconds—like she's analyzing you once more. Then, she leans slightly closer to you.

“Do you really think you can handle me?”

“Shall we put that to the test?”

You notice that her eyes narrow to thin and sharp slits, almost like they're focused and almost as if the icy blue has become a dark abyssal void. She leans in even closer to you, so much so that you feel a little intimidated. Her gaze is almost unsettling.

“Oh, I'm more than ready to put it to the test,” she replies to your boldness.

You lean in, resting your own arms on the barrier just the same. For a moment or so, you contemplate whether or not you should give into your impulsive thoughts.

Then, you wonder. You wonder what would happen if you gave into your impulsive thoughts in front of the already riled-up crowd. They've already noticed your interaction with Rhea, and they've already started recording... So, what would happen?

You look between Rhea and the door to an office. As you do so, contemplatively, Rhea shifts forward—rather uncomfortably close—insofar that you're forced to lean more backward than you wanted to. That is, so much so that you almost fall backward completely. Rhea takes notice of this and makes her way over the barrier to catch you in time—which she does successfully.

“Careful, there,” she says to you quietly, while also holding you against herself—similar to a hug of some sort. Her arms are fully around you, enveloping you in a sort of warmth—unfamiliar to you.

A few comfortable moments later, she lets go of you and takes a few steps back. You take this opportunity to look back at the office door.

She watches as your gaze shifts from her to the office door, then tilts her head in curiosity and follows forth with your shifting gaze. Thus—she, herself, also shifts her gaze over to the office door. She thinks for a moment, then takes a deep breath before literally (and without forewarning) picking you up, throwing you (gently) over her shoulder, and carrying you over the barrier and (furtively) over to the office.

Her office, to be more specific.

Rhea shoves you into her office, causing your back to hit the concrete wall behind you. You have to admit, it hurt at least a tad bit. You end up left alone in that office for a good hour or so before she returns.

Before you know it, you end up falling asleep from spacing out for so long. Just sat against that concrete wall, legs bent, head buried in your arms—which laid atop your knees. More than an hour passes, and you don't notice until the office door just barely slams open.

Rhea walks in, her (mostly) black and (accented) purple makeup smudged, a couple drops of sweat streaming down her face like a raindrop on a window, and even some blood from what seems to be a nosebleed. You look up, after having been somewhat rudely awakened, all to find that Rhea has—even with the door open—pinned you to the wall you're sat against. That, and she's even on her knees.

But, even with that sweetness, it's short-lived. She soon gets back up and abandons you momentarily. But, curious, you manage to pick yourself up and walk out of the office. Hearing a sink running, you decide to check the nearby women's restroom.

You knock on the door before opening it, as a sort of forewarning, only to find yourself face-to-face with Rhea—once again. She raises a brow at you, as if confused as to why you've approached her.

Her confusion halts as an idea forms in her head. “How would you feel about a little practice fight in the ring?” she asks you. By now, you've come to the conclusion that it's after hours and that the two of you have hours of free time. So, you take the opportunity.

“I wouldn't mind that at all, actually,” you respond, realizing you've (for an unbeknownst reason) brought with you a change of clothes particularly for this type of scenario. “I should change, first, though, if you don't mind.” You watch as she eyes you up and down and nods before walking out of the restroom, leaving you there to change.

You change into something of Rhea's style, among other things—particularly a black corset top, and a black 70s-style leather vest to cover it (for modesty purposes, though it really doesn't matter). You wrap a long-spiked choker around your neck and tighten it just enough that it doesn't choke the hell out of you.

You end up going all out and doing your makeup, as well, somewhat mimicking Rhea's style. Dramatic eyeliner, black upper lip, and you even write your initial on your cheek in a slashed black font. After having done so, you take a moment or two to check yourself out in the restroom mirror. Your clothes cling to your figure rather well, but something's missing.

You remove the concealer from the tattoos you've always kept hidden on your arms and hands. You've always had to hide them for career purposes, so now having the opportunity to show them off—you take that opportunity with pride. You slide a set of chained rings to either (both) hand(s), and the silver compliments your skin tone perfectly.

After debating for a moment whether or not you should match tongue piercings with Rhea, you decide that you might as well just go for it. And, so, you do. You sharpen your canines just a tad bit to make sure they get shown off. And, with that, you're basically done. (Forewarning.)

After admitablly way too long, you finally come out from the restroom. You walk over to the side of the ring nearest to you, and notice Rhea has been patiently waiting from the opposing side. As you climb into the ring, you take notice of Rhea's slightly widened eyes and ajar mouth.

As much as she'd love to show you how much she loves how you look, her cold and dominant demeanor takes over her as an instinctive response.

“Look at you,” Rhea starts, a hand placed on either hip as she shifts her weight to either side, “all dolled up. Is this for me?” You raise a brow, then slowly scan her body from bottom to top.

You unzip the back of your leather vest, just to undo your corset top, slip it off of you, and throw it teasingly to the other side of the ring, and zip up the back of your vest like nothing had—at all—occurred.

Along with that, you undo the chains from between the buttons of the front of your vest just to button the buttons and unintentionally flaunt your bust to presumably claim your dominance.

Deciding to be bold, you run head first at Rhea, in anticipation for her to dodge. She doesn't. Instead, she holds out a cupped hand, forcing it around your throat and pulling you up to meet her gaze as she looks down at you with a power-hungry grin. “What a messy start this has become,” Rhea states, loving the look on your face.

“It can get a whole lot messier,” you threaten.

Rhea pulls a black switchblade out of her pocket, and holds the handle in her mouth—blade unsheathed. The shock of this sight almost sends you flinching backward and out of her grasp.

She shoves you onto the ring floor. As your back makes contact with the surface material, it (your back) arches in pain. Your knees bend together, and you try to back away a bit to spare you some room to get back on your feet.

A grin-like smirk spreads sinisterly across her face just before she plummets on top of you, now hovering just over your figure.

Her own back arches, closer to yours. She knows what she's doing, alright.

She takes the switchblade and before she begins to cut down the buttons of your vest, you grab her wrist to stop her. To which, she responds by aiming the tip of the switchblade directly at your throat. Your breath hitches, and this causes her to roll her eyes back momentarily at the sight.

“Good try,” she chuckles, “but not good enough.”

You take a deep-ish breath before turning the tables and pinning Rhea to the ring floor. Somewhat taken aback by this, she responds by shoving you off of her with a kick and pinning you down with a Riptide. With this sort of advantage, you swipe her switchblade and attempt to use it against her.

Before you can, she swipes it from you and slides it out of the ring. The sound of the switchblade hitting the floor echoes throughout the arena.

As much as you're enjoying this whole scenario, you take the opportunity to somewhat throw yourself over her shoulders—though you end up pinning her once again before you roll off of her completely.

You make your way to the nearest edge of the ring, press yourself into the ropes, then run full speed at Rhea. She manages to reciprocate and get you pinned down.

Just to be a tease, you pull her in by the collar and lick up her throat—which sends a shiver down her spine. It was only then that she realized there was a feeling of metal against her skin…

After the short moment you have her distracted, you furtively roll and slide your way out of the ring and underneath it. Maintaining composure, you keep your breath steady.

That is, until Rhea makes her way behind you. You feel the leather of her clothing and the warmth of her body against your backside, and a ringed hand over your mouth. Your vision has become pinned to whatever’s in front of you. You’d be staring at her, if you only could.

For a moment or two, you feel as though you can’t breathe.

Despite that, you hear her quiet voice in your ear. “Naughty girl can’t follow simple rules, can she?” Your breath catches in your throat, and you almost choke on it.

Out of nowhere, intro music begins playing. Looks like it’s not after hours after all. “Shit,” you hear Rhea mutter to herself. It’s her intro playing, as well. That, and now is not a good time. Especially amidst this kind of situation.

The commentator speaks, and the crowd starts booing when Rhea doesn’t make an appearance. “Looks like I’ll have explaining to do.” She then takes a moment to think. “So, why not use this to our advantage? Maybe surprise the audience with a guest appearance?”

You, yourself, take a moment to contemplate this newly opened path. You’d speak if you only could. Much as you’d like to, you find your escape route by managing to turn the tables—to the point where you now have the upper hand (as in, you’re on top).

“And what a surprise this is…” Rhea starts. “Thing is, Mami… is always… on top…” That Aussie accent seems to have become more prominent, and you’ve just now noticed it. A smirk forms on Rhea’s face as she speaks those words, and you can almost guess the reason why with ultimate ease.

“Then, why isn’t she?” you ask, deciding to backtalk. In terms of your choice of words, Rhea strikes a slap across your face as some sort of punishment towards you.

“Try that again and see what happens.” Her cold demeanor returns, but you ignore it.

After having focused enough, you maneuver your way out from under the ring; Rhea follows closely behind you. Thus, you have failed in being as furtive as you attempted to be.

She picks you up as soon as she catches you, and throws you into the ring. (Luckily for you, you land on your feet.) Rhea, noticing the corset top you left behind not too long ago, momentarily takes it with her as she joins you in the ring.

The crowd cheers, going utterly wild. The commentary joins in with the crowd’s cheering. Seems as though this surprise, though it’s uncalled for, is a real crowd-pleaser.

Given the absolute chaos and deafening cheering from the crowd, Rhea is left having to mouth words to you as best as she can. “Isn’t this yours?” she mouths.

You only nod in response.

“Looks like someone might get stripped in this little match, eh?”

Your eyes widen once you realize the words she's mouthed. Soon enough, though, Rhea slowly approaches you in the middle of the ring until your faces are less than six inches away from each other’s.

As an instinctive reaction, you can't help but give her those pleading eyes as she looks down into your gaze. With one hand, in front of the crowd and commentary, she uses an index finger—drags it up your neck and lifts your chin. Your breath catches in your throat once more, causing you to almost choke—whether you'd like it or not.

She leaves a soft kiss on one of her thumbs and presses that same spot softly onto your lips, giving you an indirect kiss. Her gaze, staring into your eyes, seems to possess a sort of passionate aura you fail to recognize.

Corset top in one of her hands, she undoes the buttons of your vest (whilst also making sure that no one in the crowd sees anything they're not supposed to), slides it up your torso, gently puts your arms through the straps… Finally, she teasingly presses her body against you as she clasps together the hooks to the back strap of it. After, she clasps the buttons of your vest back together.

Sending her body against yours, you feel the instinctive urge to pin her to the floor of the ring—yet you hold back on that urge.

She backs you against the roping on one side of the ring, lifts your chin up, pins you against the roping (rather loosely, since it's not a very solid surface anyway), and presses her lips against your own. Within this action, that same passion you assume you saw prior returns.

You keep your composure, through and through, avoiding the urge to just melt under the heat of her kiss, especially since you're both surrounded by a rather wild and riled-up crowd. The commentary is taken aback, but you're at least half sure that they're enjoying the hell out of this sight.

Having you now distracted and almost completely subdued under her makeshift hypnosis, she pins you down with a second Riptide (similar to the first). You comply with this as easily as you would even if it weren't for a match, and the referee does his thing. Three simple seconds of your submission under Rhea's Riptide, and she's officially won the match—meaning, the title of Championship is still under her name.

Even after she's won the match, though, she keeps you pinned where you are. Looking up into the blue of her eyes, you can't help but feel weak.

Soon enough, the actual after hours begin. Meaning, the surrounding patrons, including the referee and the other workers, depart the building. All except the two of you.

As an attempt to make some sort of an escape, you buck your hips slightly upward—yet Rhea only reciprocates, causing you to let out a very weak and quiet moan. Almost too quiet to hear.

“What did I tell ya?” she begins, quoting a line she's said before, “Mami, is always on top.” An almost devilish grin plasters itself across her face, a wink accenting it. She licks her lips, somewhat provocatively, before lowering her upper body to pin you more securely.

Deciding to be a little more bold, you pull her in by the choker. That is, particularly between the ‘A’ and ‘M’ (directly center) of ‘MAMI’—labeled, in silver. Doing so, you cause Rhea to back away a bit due to how close you’ve forced yourselves to be in proximity.

“Not for long,” you finally decide to say.

“Yeah? Mami’s always on top, if you’ve forgotten.”

“...I suppose that means you own me?”

You take a moment to reminisce on when Rhea stopped after a particular match to walk over to you and just stare.

Retracing your steps, you realize that she’s almost always present wherever you are. Even outside of the WWE matches.

“A pet will tend to follow its master,” you hear Rhea say, as if she just read your thoughts.

As you form a response and open your mouth to speak, she shuts you up by suddenly kissing you. Your breath completely halts, the flush now on your face and your lack of breath almost causing you to pass out.

“Aww, look who's gone all silent,” she teases, furrowing her brows in some sort of pout.

You look away, clearly at least a little bit embarrassed. “Nope,” you correct boldly, despite knowing your boldness is an act you can't keep up for much longer.

“Is that so? It looked to me like I almost had to give you cpr.”

“You must be blind, then.”

“You must be loving my teasing, then, dear.”

You knew you'd reacted to that nickname by wanting to immediately fold right then and there, if only you could. Your knees begin to feel just a little bit weaker, your body heats up by a degree or so, and your breath slows down to an almost concerning pace. (Let's just hope you don't have heart arrhythmia!)

Sooner or later (just a few minutes after Rhea last spoke), you decide you've had enough.

“Just ravage me, at this point,” you mutter under your breath, just barely confident enough to express yourself truly.

Rhea tilts her head, portraying a makeshift expression to be confused—seeming to desire a more forward clarification. “Sorry, I couldn't hear you. Mind running that by me again?”

You stare profoundly into her eyes, almost with a look of hatred or apathy. “You heard me,” you threaten. But, little do you know that this is the start of an occurrence you may or may not afterwards regret.

[Series Masterlist]

Part 2

[buckymorelikefuckme]

and really bad eggs

pirate king wanda x fem reader

words: 2.1k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** mentions/slight description of injury, hurt/comfort, smut, scissoring. if i missed anything pls let me know!

a/n: well i guess it's a series now lmao~ is 3am posting going to become my new thing? we shall see. i hope you enjoy :) also, there's a cameo of two of our fave dudes in here hehe! unbeta'd. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

part 1 ❀ part 2 ❀ part 4

You pace impatiently along the deck, eyes straining through the moonlight as you search for the return of your crew mates and captain. They should've been back ages ago. You'd been given strict instruction to stay on the ship, the captain using the excuse of your poor combat skills for her reasoning.

“I've been practicing with Natasha,” you'd protested as you watched Wanda gather her effects.

You would be approaching the port soon and she always liked being ready to step off the ship the moment it was docked. Feeling desperate yet helpless, you continued staring at your lover as she checked her pistols and secured her sword.

Wanda sighed. “Yes, and I've heard of your improvement,” she admitted. “But Natasha still thinks you need more time before you're ready for a real fight.”

“You say all the time how rare fights happen once the villagers realize who you are!” you retorted.

“I am not going to argue with you on this,” she replied, her tone firm. “My mind is made up. You will stay here.”

You clenched your jaw. “Are you saying this as my captain, or as my lover?”

Wanda spun to face you with a hard look. You lifted your chin, having been on the receiving end of such an expression several times before. She was always calling you stubborn, and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

“When did I stop being both, hm?” she wondered, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you. “What have I done to deserve this treatment?”

You didn’t reply, frowning as you broke your stare. When Wanda spoke again, it was low, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“I could not live with the thought of you getting hurt, or worse, because you could not defend yourself properly,” she confessed. “Perhaps I do not express myself well enough, if you are under the impression that I could be so impassive with your precious life.”

You blinked away the tears that built in your eyes.

“I have fought in my fair share of duals, and even I have had many close calls, despite my years of training,” she added, and you hated the reminder, having bore witness to the scars that decorate her skin to prove her words. She cupped your cheeks, forcing you to meet her imploring gaze. “I will not have your blood on my hands.”

A shaky breath escaped you, still feeling utterly helpless, useless, but you reached up to gently grasp her wrists. As much as it pained you, you nodded in understanding. She sighed, eased, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, promising to return as quickly as possible.

Now, a sense of foreboding has been steadily rising within you. It's never taken this long for a raid. You wring your hands anxiously, contemplating if Wanda would be angry with you if you left the ship with your sword in hand.

However, you don't get the chance to decide. You hear voices approach, and soon after, the crew bustles out of the tree line. Your relief is palpable as you press your hand to your chest, muttering a quick thank god under your breath as they grow nearer.

It takes a moment for you to notice, so washed in comfort by everyone’s return, that a few people are carefully carrying someone back to the ship. Just as quickly as the relief appeared, it leaves you entirely. Your skin goes hot then cold, so fast that it leaves your head spinning, dread settling heavily in your stomach.

As the crew begin boarding the ship, none of them meet your eyes. Panic wells, and you find yourself stumbling across the deck, shouldering past several people. Natasha stops you before you can go around her.

“She's fine,” she murmurs.

“She–She's being carried onto the ship,” you point out dumbly.

Natasha grips your shoulders. “Her wound is not serious. We had to clean it and stitch it to stop the bleeding before we could return.”

You whimper, covering your mouth as fresh tears fall. “She was bleeding?”

Natasha sighs heavily. “Before we could announce ourselves, some skinny, little idiot and his friend thought themselves to be heroes and charged us.” She rolls her eyes, agitated all over again by this person. “The Captain stepped in and was grazed by his dagger while she was trying to subdue him. Once he found out who we were it was easy to get them to back down.”

She pauses, huffing. “For whatever reason, the Captain invited them to join the crew after they'd apologized a million times and begged her pardon.”

You blink a few times, mind whirling. “But she's okay?” you clarify, your only worry.

Natasha’s face softens as she nods. “Aye. I made them carry her back so she wouldn't put a strain on her stitches. It's just a superficial wound.”

Just then, Wanda is carried on board, and you rush to her.

“This is ridiculous. I am perfectly capable of walking,” you hear her grumble and it makes a choked sob slip past your lips. Her eyes meet yours and she orders the men to stop. “Put me down,” she tells them, and when they try to argue, “Now!”

Not wanting to receive some form of punishment, they listen, gingerly helping her rise and stand. She winces, her hand clutching her side, just below her ribs. You take cautious steps toward her, but you stop a couple feet away.

“Come here, my love,” she says, holding out her free arm.

You close the space between you, tears spilling down your cheeks as you check her over for more injuries, hands hovering unsurely around her. She grabs one of your hands and pulls you into her, hugging you tightly. You bury your face in her neck as you cry, relieved all over again, feeling her warm and solid beneath your hands. She shushes you softly, kissing you wherever she can reach.

“I'm alright, my angel, I'm fine,” she reassures.

“You were hurt,” you correct thickly. “I wasn't there and you got hurt.”

“It's nothing I can't handle,” she replies. She brushes your hair off your shoulder so she can kiss along the expanse of your collarbone. “Why don't we go to my quarters, hm?”

You swallow past the lump in your throat and nod, letting her lead you in the direction of her cabin. Along the way, you spy two new faces; a skinny, blond man whose eyes are wide as he takes in the massive ship, and a dark haired man that follows close behind, looking resigned to his fate. You make a mental note to give them a stern talking to later.

Wanda closes and locks the door to her cabin once the two of you are inside. She turns to you and meets you halfway for a bruising kiss.

The only thought playing on a loop in your mind is that you could have lost her. It's silly, especially knowing her injury is not that serious, but also knowing that she'd gotten hurt and you weren't there to help makes your chest seize uncomfortably. You just need to assure yourself that she really is okay.

Your hands grab fistfuls of her hair as you deepen the kiss into something sharper, messier. Wanda grunts, her own hands sliding down your back until they can squeeze your ass. You moan brokenly into her mouth.

She breaks the kiss to mutter, “Feel me? I'm here, safe, with you.”

“If you think I'm staying behind next time, you're mad,” you respond, licking a hot line up the side of her neck.

Her head tips back as she laughs, the sound teetering off into a gasp when you bite down and begin sucking a mark into her skin.

“I figured you would say so,” she says.

Without a word, you make quick work of undoing the laces of her trousers. She helps you undress her, slipping off her coat and unbuttoning her waistcoat before she reaches for you. Her deft fingers work on removing your corset and dress until you're completely bare. She steps out of her trousers that have pooled at her ankles, kicking her boots off in the process.

The stark contrast of the stitches against her skin is like a punch to the gut. You softly trail your fingers just below them.

“Lie down,” you tell her.

She opens her mouth to protest, but you send her a look that begs her to simply do as she's told, and for once, she listens. She walks over to her bed with you in tow and eases her way onto it. You crawl on after her, sitting between her thighs.

“No teasing,” she intones, tacking on a quiet, “please.”

You hadn't planned on such a thing anyway. Instead of verbally replying, you lift one of her legs and straddle the other, shuffling forward until you can align your pussy with hers. You place a kiss on her calf and then grind forward.

Twin gasps echo in the room, pleasure setting your bodies ablaze. Wanda’s eyes close as she pants at the feel of your wet cores sliding together. It sends a shudder down your spine, mouth falling open as your clit is stimulated perfectly.

“Doing such a good job, my angel,” Wanda praises, making you whine and grind harder. “You feel exquisite. Love feeling your cunt, dripping and desperate against mine.”

“My King, please,” you whimper.

She moans and yanks you down for a kiss, sucking on your tongue, biting your lip. You cry out when her fingers pinch and tug your nipples, hips twitching out of rhythm for a moment before you regain it. Both of your thighs are messy with slick, the sound of it sending heat up to your face, makes your clit throb.

“Come on, then. Let me hear you,” she orders. “Want to see you come apart on top of me.”

You feel a sudden smack to your ass and you're keening, grinding faster as sweat forms across your hairline, on the small of your back. Wanda isn't faring any better, her cheeks flushed a stunning shade of pink. She keeps spanking you, urging you on. Your ass stings, but it's a welcome feeling, a reminder that she's here, below you.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” she requests.

You can only listen, your clit beating in time with your heart as you grind it on hers, moaning loudly when your orgasm consumes you. Wanda pulls you down entirely, shifting you to lay on your side and lift your leg. With pleasure still clouding your mind, you blindly follow her silent instruction. The high of your climax hasn't even receded when she slides two fingers inside you. A surprised whine falls past your slackened lips.

“I've got to get one more out of you, my love,” she informs you, immediately thrusting her fingers at a brutal pace. “I know you can do that for me. Can't you?”

You nod, letting out noises that you're sure the crew can hear. Wanda doesn't seem to care, though, so you can't find it in you to care either. She licks into your mouth, her tongue tangling with yours, making you shiver and clench around her fingers.

“That's it, there you go,” she coos.

Her thumb joins in, swiping over your sensitive clit. You nearly scream her name. She grins proudly, curling her fingers and rubbing over the spot inside you that is sure to have you wailing. It takes only a minute longer and then your second orgasm rushes through you.

“Beautiful, so beautiful, my sweet angel,” Wanda is saying in your ear, kissing along your jaw as spots dance in your vision.

You weakly push at her hand when you become overly tender. She removes her fingers and gathers your wetness, bringing her hand down to her clit and using it to quickly get herself off. She holds your heavy lidded stare until her orgasm takes over. She tosses her head back with a cut off shout, her hips bucking into her hand.

“My handsome captain,” you say, kissing her shoulder. “Took such good care of me. Thank you, my darling.”

Wanda sighs as relaxes. “Always for you.”

You trade sweet nothings and even sweeter kisses for a few, long moments until you remember her injury. The skin around it looks more irritated than before, but she promises that she's fine, kissing away your worries.

You stay wrapped up in each other, running soothing hands over each other’s bodies for a while. When you yawn and blink drowsily, Wanda covers you with the blanket, letting you cuddle up even closer.

You're asleep between one blink and the next.

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die [teaser]

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?

The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.

Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: est. 30k | [teaser]: ~1k

RELEASE DATE: est. May 19th, 2024 - may change

‼️PLEASE SEND AN ASK OR REPLY TO THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST (ageless blogs WILL NOT BE ADDED)‼️

masterlist

WARNINGS [!is subject to change upon publishing of the full fic!]: slowburn, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, smut tags to be added in the full fic

[AN]: hai i am back with another monstrosity 😃 biggest thank you to @highvern for brainstorming with me and beta-ing for me, this fic would not exist without her!!!!! im super excited for this to come out, its my best work yet and i hope you all like it too!!!!

teaser under the cut!

“Did your stupid father drop you on your head as a baby?” 

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

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

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

“I can help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

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

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

Is he about to cut my hands off?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

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

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

“I’ll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

[athenaluthor]

flower shopping with obi wan modern au?

description - spring is finally here. you and obi-wan celebrate by expanding his plant collection and buying flowers

warnings - fluff, sweet tooth rotting fluff, domestic obi-wan, lovesick obi wan

side note - i mayhaps have gone and veered away from flower shopping to plant shopping ( cause plants are my jam). still hope u enjoy though. much love from me

word count -1.37k (unedited)

banner by @cafekitsune

Spring is finally here.

With it washes away the dread and barren cold of winter that seeps into your bones . The spring sun melts away the ice and makes way for a season of blooming flowers and plants.

The spring morning chill offers a nice change of pace from the frigid winds of winter. A lovely way to transition from thick winter coats to warm cardigans, according to Obi-Wan.

The hot cup of coffee he buys you does wonders to warm your hand as you both walk through the streets. Though the river market isn't an unfamiliar walk, Obi-Wan prefers to hold one of your hands as if you'd get lost. You don't mind, though. His hands are large and warm, providing you warmth and comfort like no other.

Hand in hand, the two of you walk through the city like always. You can't help but relish in the comfortable silence and the occasional talk. The kind of comfort that only comes through profound understanding. You adore the way his hair falls in his face, the way he smiles when he talks about his passions. Even after all this time, he blushes slightly every time he realizes your eyes are on him for too long.

Each year, the two of you venture down to the river market around spring to catch a glimpse of the annual plants and flowers market. The streets near the river house the stands that showcase all sorts of flowers. Each stand overflows with flowers and plants alike, attracting passersby and locals.

Unavoidably, Obi-Wan insists on you choosing a few plants to bring home every year.

“Obi, absolutely not! We have so many already, I wouldn't even know where to put them.” you say to him, laughing incredulously.

“What? Of course, there's space. I'll make space, darling. My hands are miracle workers, you know that. Remember last time?” he quips.

“Yes, I remember it. The ones you bought last year were too big and wouldn't fit on the balcony, yet you made it work. Now, shall I sing praises of your skill?” you quip back.

Eventually, you cave to Obi-Wan. The two of you settle on a few small houseplants after much contemplation. He wants more plants for the balcony like hydrangeas and morning glories, though he opts out of it after remembering his plans of adding chairs and tables to it.

You tease that Obi-Wan’s confidence and security is all for show, truly shaken when he has to make a decision for which plant he wants for your home. He takes the choice far too seriously which amuses you far more than you'd like to admit.

The look he gives to the fiddle leaf fig and monstera plant nearly makes you burst out laughing. He looks at it with such longing and wistfulness one would think it might be his lover.

“It's a terribly daunting decision, darling. What if we don't like it later? Can't return it back then, can we, hm?” states Obi-Wan

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you watch the stall worker pack your new plants. You find it amusing that he puts so much thought into it despite adorning every plant that comes into your home.

“You know, you love all your plants, Obi. Even the dramatic ones and that makes you all the more adorable to me.” you say dramatically.

He turns his head to you, his eyes bore into yours and his hand reaches for your cheek to caress it. “Adorable? Let's see if you still think that tonight, darling.” he cheekily replies.

Obi-Wan tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears and says “Besides,I have a love for beauty and dramaticness. Especially the one next to me, even if she teases me to no end.”.

The compliment makes the blood rush to your cheeks and you shy away from his gaze. He teases you for how easily your cheeks warm and how shy you get even after all this time.

Excusing yourself, you let Obi-Wan pay for the new plants while you discard your empty cup into a nearby recycling bin. Looking around in an attempt to calm yourself, you see some people walking around with bouquets of fresh flowers. You certainly didn't mind having some flowers around the house, you know Obi-Wan didn't either.

Once he's done, Obi-Wan walks to you with his brand new goods in hand and the brightest grin across his face.

“Where shall we go next, hmm?” He asks you.

“Want to get some fresh flowers? For our desks and maybe for our living room. It'll really feel like spring then.” you reply.

Smiling, Obi-Wan agrees and adds “Some for the kitchen too. Flowers in the kitchen make cooking much better, if you ask me.”

Continuing your journey, the two of you make your way further through the market. Walking hand in hand, both of you try to find the section of florists. Obi-Wan rattles off facts about the plants and flowers you see as you walk by. You tease his enthusiasm here and there, only to kiss his cheek once you've riled him up. Despite your teasing, you don't mind the flowers and plants, he knows it.

In truth, you find it charming to see him care for them meticulously. Though you would rather him tickle you to death than say that to him.

Spotting the section of florists, both of you head over there. Admittedly, you don't care much for plants, but you adore flowers. Especially since Obi-Wan indulges your love by planting some of your favorites at home and buys bouquets of others.

Full of excitement, you begin choosing with much care. You decide carefully which flowers would look best in your home and liven up the place, placing them in a basket the worker gave. Obi-Wan picks a few here and there, but he mostly opts to stand back and watch you be in your little world.

Moments like this remind him of how glorious it is to feel such profound love for you. Nothing can match how desperately and unequivocally in love with you he is.

Your voice snaps him out of his trance, “Should we get lilacs too?” you ask.

“Uhh, definitely. The snowdrops look great too. Do you want to get them?” he replies.

The two of you go back and forth between what other flowers you should get, eventually agreeing on some lilies as well as irises to add more color to the space.

By the end, the two of you have definitely gone a little overboard. Before you leave, Obi-Wan makes a quick purchase of some fertilizer he's been set on trying. All the more variety to up his gardening skills , according to him. He also chooses a few gardening gloves for both of you to replace your worn out ones.

The walk home is quite hilarious. The two of you have definitely purchased more than you can comfortably carry. Though, Obi-Wan suggests you hail a cab, you fail to find any. Your home isn't far enough to justify using a ride-share service at this time of day.

Now, you both are left trying to walk home with your hands full of new goods you can barely carry. Both of you don't complain though. The struggle adds to the laughter that neither of you can contain as you make your way back home.

Coming up to your building, the old lady knitting on by her window throws you a disapproving look. Her look tells you that she thinks the two of you are like teenage love-birds who can't keep quiet. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she thought so.

That evening, you both lay comfortably entangled on the sofa. Obi-Wan ensures to cover your bodies with the blanket once he feels the goosebumps on your skin. He's aware he runs warm but you don't so he offers to turn up the thermostat but you refuse, just wanting to lay with him.

Having your head on his chest and hands on his stomach drawing patterns, he thinks he could stay in this moment forever. A lovely day outside, shopping with the love of his life and evening spent making love to her.

He wishes this spring would last forever.

[gooch-cancer]

Steven Meeks x (GN!) Piano Player! Reader

In which: You're a pianist for the Welton church whose gentle melodies caught the attention of Steven Meeks

A/N: this has been in my drafts for forever i am so sorry it's been taking so long i appreciate you if ur still reading it means the most. i've tried to make y/n (but not use y/n cuz i think it's stupid) ambiguous throughout this story but in order for this to work i did give some lore which i hope doesn't bother you guys too much

Prev Chap here:

Chapter 8:

Steven warily entered the chapel, he wasn't allowed to be there but his desire to see you trumped that. He looked around the building, it was one that he'd seen hundreds of times throughout his years of Welton. He remembered when he arrived here for the first time during the opening ceremony. The stained glass windows shined from the August sun as he sat beside his mother and father. He'd only been around fourteen at the time so naturally he couldn't stand them both.

His mother kept on reassuring him ("Everything will be alright honey! This is a really good school and I'll be sure to write you!") His father however, Steven was unsure if the man even knew he existed. He always gave him gruff answers to his questions, never looked him in the eye. Steven felt that shame deep down due to how far he tried to push it away. Feelings of that nature are like a rubber band, you can pull it away from your mind but it'd just end up snapping back and hitting you.

As the light of knowledge was lit, Steven felt the hairs on his neck prickle up a bit. Something about this place scared him inexplicably. He looked around at the other boys they all had a dull expression on their face. One that made it obvious how ready they were for this ceremony to end. They all looked so smart and so...rich. Steven wondered about them. He thought about their lives, what their parents were like. It was probably the most idealistic childhood one could think of.

Summers at the country club, winters at ski resorts, he'd imagined it all.

There was a soft thud of shoes on the carpeted floor and Steven turned his neck in shock after being cut from his thoughts so suddenly. You stopped in front of him with a warm smile, "You came,"

He grinned up at you, his mouth all wide and toothy as his cheeks began to pink slightly at the sight of you, "Oh uh well I of course I did," He stumbled through his words. It's odd, it's like every single time he sees you after a while he'd forgotten how to act.

You gesture towards the piano with your arm, songbook in hand, "Shall we?" you asked in a fake regal tone.

Steven nodded hurriedly and stood up to adjust his blazer, "Yes,do you want me to carry that for you?"

You chuckled slightly, "No I think I'll manage,"

He nodded awkwardly as you began to walk toward the piano, him slowly following behind you. As you sat on the bench and adjusted your music he found himself simply standing, unsure. You turned your head, "You may sit, you know?" You shifted over and patted the seat of the bench beside you. He quickly took you up on the offer. You smiled softly as you began to crack your knuckles and stretch your wrists before sitting up straight. Steven copied your posture out of curiosity. You turned to a page in your book titled "Warmup" and he looked at it in interest.

You turned your head towards him, "It's basic really, just your typical arpeggios, scales, things like that"

This only confused him more as he replied hesitantly, "I have no idea what that is...I don't know how to read music,"

"Oh, well..." You bit your lip as you tried to come up with a solution, "My offer still stands about lessons, it'll be free of course,"

Steven hummed in thought, "I...I suppose so,"

Your eyes lit up at his, albeit hesitant, agreement, "Really? You'd like me to teach you?"

He nodded his head slowly, "Yeah it'd be interesting,"

You cleared your throat and pointed at a note on your page, "Do you know what a quarter note is?"

Steven furrowed his eyebrows as you pointed at the notes on the page, you might as well had been speaking an entire language to him. You noticed his expression and laid your arm back down to your side. A small huff came from your nose as you tried to conjure up a way to explain to him. Soon you began to speak again this time slightly slower, "You understand fractions well d you?"

Steven raised his eyebrows as he finally understood, "Yeah! Yeah I do,"

You smiled as you pointed to a piece on the page before the music notes began, "This is called a time signature, the four here means the notes in each measure equals to four. Like a fraction,"

His hand went up to rub his temple using his fore and middle finger before he responded, "So when you said quarter note that meant one quarter of the entire measure?"

Your smile widened as he finally understood what you were trying to teach him. You two continued on like that, excited chatter echoing through the chapel along with the occasional note as you demonstrated where the 'C' key was. Steven could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the steady beat rattling him to his ears. You were right there. You were literally right beside him. This wasn't new by any means but there was something different about it. He opened his mouth to speak when the sound of a door slamming open interrupted him. You two looked at each other anxiously when the unmistakable sound of Mr.Nolans coughing and throat clearing bounced off the old stone walls.

He had no idea what to do besides be grateful that Nolan took the back entrance rather the front. You leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Follow me,"

Steven smiled wildly as you grabbed his wrist and lead him through the chapel. Hushed giggles and whispers were heard between the two of you as you ran down the halls, avoiding the oncoming presence of Nolan. As you passed the mural, there came a sudden stop in front of door. You opened it to reveal a simple janitors closet. It was a tightly closed in space, with a couple of brooms hanging on the wall and a hanging shelf containing a myriad of supplies.

He looked at you with confusion and humor on his face, "You want us to hide here?"

Your expression remained neutral as you shrugged, "It's the safest bet we have currently,"

There was a slight chuckle that came out of his mouth as he slowly entered the closet. You followed in after him, closing the door and swallowing you two in a slight darkness. There was about an inch or two of space between you and Steven could feel his face grow hot from the proximity. You smiled and giggled softly, "You doing ok?"

He gave an awkward grin whilst he looked at you, a far away look still in his eye, "Yeah, yeah," he responded.

A hush fell between you two as you heard footsteps past by, the sharp click of heels against the linoleum making Steven's body shake more and more. Then suddenly he felt your hand in his, the warm embrace allowing him to exhale some of his anxieties after Nolan had passed. A gentle look was shared between you two as Steven mouthed a gentle 'Thank you'.

You shrugged and leaned against his shoulder, his body tensing then relaxing again, leaning his head on yours.

You started a conversation whispering in his ear, "So...what's your favorite subject?"

Steven hummed for a second in thought, "Probably science, I've always been really into engineering and building things, you?"

You raised your eyebrows, "English I'd say, are you going to study engineering?"

"Oh yeah definitely, my parents want me to as well,"

"Is that your choice?"

"Well..."

"Steven," You raised your head and studied his face while furrowing your eyebrows, "Come on,"

Steven sighed, "I have no choice,"

"What do you mean? Do we not all get one?" You asked him with a small smile on your face almost as if you just couldn't believe him.

"I don't think there's a single person at Welton that's chosen their own path,"

You nodded your head and looked down at your shoes, the depressing turn of the conversation making the air awkward. Steven knew he fumbled and did his best to try and change the subject, "So uh piano...how long have you been playing?"

"Oh since I was seven, my parents stuck me in lessons and I took a liking to it,"

"Is it...easy?"

"By no means, but muscle memory helps,"

"Ah," Steven nodded as he stepped back and leaned against the wall. He slid down now sitting and you followed suit. You two sat down beside each other, backs laid against the wall. Steven sat sprawling out his legs and leaned his head against the wall looking up at the ceiling, you pulled your knees up to your chest and looked over at him. He felt your eyes and slowly turned his head to look at you. With a chuckle he asked you a simple question, "What?"

This made you look away embarrassed, your face heating up, "Oh nothing...you just look nice,"

Steven looked down at himself, he was wearing a lumpy gray sweatshirt and his uniform slacks that desperately needed to be ironed. He reached his hand up to the beanie on his head and felt the embroidery. He ran his thumb over the design as he tried to think of a response.

"Hardly," He came up with, "You look quite lovely yourself,"

All of a sudden, the room felt tighter. The already claustrophobic janitors closet was closing in on him. Was this the right time to make a move? He still wasn't sure yet here you were pressed up against his shoulder and looking at him like he could do no wrong. That light in your eye. It sparks a flame of life inside him. Before he could lean forward you looked down, trying to hide your face.

You muttered out a small thank you. Steven huffed a bit of air out of his nose but before he opened his mouth to say anything there was a distant slam of a door. This perked you up and you looked over at him, "Is...Nolan gone?"

Steven got up and walked to the door, pressing his ear up against the cold wood, "Yes...yes I believe so,"

You got up and wiped some dust off your bottoms, "Well then...do you have the time?,"

Steven opened the door and let the light in before he rolled up his sleeve to reveal his watch. You grabbed his wrist to look closer, leaning forward in such a fashion that made him go red. You had a panicked expression on your face, "Oh God- It's six, my mother is going to be so upset with me. Goodbye Steven, I enjoyed this time with you," You dropped his wrist and quickly began making your way to the piano with him behind you.

Steven looked over at you with a disappointed expression, "Do you have to go so soon?"

You sighed as you put on your jacket, "Afraid so, dinner is on the table and that's when I was supposed to be back,"

With a nod Steven handed you your songbook and you thanked him. You began to make your way out leaving him there when suddenly you stopped at the door. You turned and blew him a kiss which just about made all the air leave his lungs. The door slammed behind you and Steven sat down onto the piano bench, utterly winded.

[thepaintedlady00]

So I have a request female human reader/morpheous

She met morpheous because she’s a friend of Constantine she basically helps organize everything while she’s working (almost impossible with the mess she leaves) one day due to Constantine work she ends up in danger basically a demon looking for Constantine tries to kill her morpheous happens to save her because he’s also trying to contact Constantine about something he needs to know. She totally falls for morpheous but is really hesitant because he’s basically out of her league so they both kinda dang around each other I tol Constantine blow up on her and him to just get together 🙄. She’s basically Cupid here. They start dating. A few weeks she start getting random calls but nobody answers when she picks up she thinks nothing on it. Also start to feel watched but she thinks it just her being tire one day she gets attacked turns out her ex abusive boyfriend got out of jail and is looking revenge things get bad when he get into her apartment one night . Enter Mathew that goes directly to the dreaming as fast as he can.

We all know Morpheous will go feral because this ass was one of her lovers and also treated her badly. Much more when she had already told him about her ex and how much damage he had done to her psychologically and physically. Morpheous deal with him and later on come back to be with her 🥺

Bestie you're just always on point with these! Like this is beautiful and I hope you love it as much as I do!

Working for Johanna Constantine was a struggle. On good days you'd be dealing with a massive pile of bullshit she'd insisted was all important and spend hours organizing it as best you could only to find more things stuffed away. On the bad days, like this one, you found yourself running for your life as a massive stinking demon chased you.

You moved around the storage space, taking sharp turns and doing everything in your power to evade and hopefully lose this thing. However, you weren't exactly good at this sort of thing. Running, life-threatening scenarios, demons all that was the kind of thing you'd spent a great deal trying to avoid. Avoiding trouble when in bed with a Constantine was, as you'd learned, impossible.

A stray box took your feet out from under you and you hit the floor hard. Your head rattled as it hit the ground and your vision was swarmed with blurry shapes and fuzzy circles like TV static. With a groan, you somehow managed to sit up just in time to watch the demon leap over the box and land on top of you. It shrieked loudly in your face, spit and what you'd hoped was mucus of some kind landed on your cheek. It grabbed hold of your legs and began pulling you with it, dragging you back toward whatever hellscape it'd been summoned from.

Screaming and writhing trying to fight free you didn't notice the figure in black until he spoke. "Release her demon, and I shall merely return you to Hell."

You looked down the long hall of storage units at the ethereal man that stood, unbothered by the creature. The demon roared again, gripping your legs harder as it tossed you into the wall and darted off toward the man. You raised your head and shouted a warning toward him. "Look out!"

He hardly needed it. With one wave of his hand, the creature was surrounded by glittering sand and vanished. Your mouth fell open as the man regarded you with a stoic look. "Are you harmed?"

"No," you answered, quickly snapping yourself out of thoughts of his handsomeness and rising to your feet. You put pressure on your ankle and fell forward, straight into the mans waiting arms.

"Constantine feared you'd found trouble and sent me to check in on you."

"That's good," you said. "I probably would have been eaten or something if you hadn't showed up."

"It would not have ate you," the man replied. "It wanted to drag you to it's domain within Hell to make you it's bride."

You made a face. "Oh... ew... well thanks for not letting that happen."

He bowed his head. "I will take you to your employer. I presume she will have the necessary equipment to treat your ankle."

Johanna had been less than thrilled at the sight of you covered in grime and spit and limping. She'd thanked the man, whose name you learned was Dream, and assured him you were in good hands. This, you believed, was the end of it. Your ankle would heal, and things would go back to normal.

Normal was not this. Dream stood in your home, quietly observing your trinkets and portraits while you nervously offered him tea and cake and just about anything you had on hand. He refused, of course, not out of disgust but rather a disinterest in human food which was a point he made sure to communicate to you with a simple deadpan of, "I do not eat."

You couldn't help yourself, the longer you watched him the louder the thoughts of appreciation of his beauty and elegance grew. He was unlike anything, anyone you'd ever seen. Dream was not just physically the embodiment of how you'd imagined angels would appear but had a voice smoother than honey or fine silk, a voice that you'd only be able to describe as other. He looked over his shoulder at you, those eyes... starlit and cosmic capturing you in an instant. "Are you well?"

"Yes!" You practically shouted. "You're fine - I'M... I'M fine."

One of the corners of his mouth twitched into what you'd describe as a smile. "I simply wished to check in to make certain no more demons came looking for a blushing bride."

You laughed, of course blushing at just his voice. "I haven't seen any... or I don't think I have. I guess I wouldn't really know until the last minute."

"The smell would give them away." Was that a joke? You wondered as you quietly laughed.

"Thank you for checking on me."

He looked away the expressionless look on his face that he'd had the entire time he'd been here faltering for a moment. "I confess I have been keeping a close eye on you since we last met."

You wracked your brain trying to remember a time you'd seen him over the course of the week. "I... I'm sorry I didn't notice you."

"You wouldn't," he answered. "I was not physically present, but my raven made certain you were safe."

"Your raven?"

"That'd be me," a new voice said from the windowseal.

You jumped, instinctually moving closer to Dream's stiff form. "Oh my god!"

The black bird tucked it's head in a bit. "Sorry, I forget how startling that can be."

It took a minute or so for you to fully process that there was a raven in your flat... and about five more to process the fact that it'd just spoken to you. "I... Sorry... I wasn't exactly expecting you to talk."

"Perfectly understandable," the bird said, flying into your home and looking at the magazines on your coffee table. "Names Matthew."

"Matthew... I have to admit I that wasn't what I thought your name would be."

"Yeah, kind of a lame one for a talking raven," he agreed. "But you can blame my mom for that I guess."

"So all ravens talk?"

"No," Dream answered. "Matthew was human once, before he became my raven."

You nodded, even though it was obvious you were very confused. "Right. Well, thanks I guess for checking up on me."

Matthew cawed, flaring his wings out. "Well there was something else we came here for, right boss?"

Looking up at Dream you smiled. His face revealed nothing as he replied, "No. I do believe we are finished with our task."

"Oh," you whispered, slightly disappointed. "Well, thank you again. Maybe I'll see you or, uh, Matthew around sometime."

Dream said nothing more as he and the bird quietly exited your flat. Unbeknownst to you, Matthew berated the Dream Lord all the way back to The Dreaming and for days after. He'd planned on inviting you to see his realm. He'd seen your dreams, mystical and magical, and everything you found beautiful, and he instantly thought you'd enjoy seeing a land of true magic and beauty. A land that would match your own enchanting smile and mystical laughter.

Time passed as it always did, you worked closely with Johanna and on occasion, Dream would lend a hand in finding certain artifacts or warning against demons. The two of you spoke often on those rare instances, so often you'd learned much about one another. Johanna insisted you'd grown a rather obvious crush on the ancient being, which you'd not denied but rather reminded yourself of the reality. He was a king, a god, an Endless. He'd hold no romantic interest toward you, a human.

When Dream did finally invite you to his realm it was something you'd never forget. The shimmering black sand of the beach, the intricate ivory gates, the houses belonging to Cain and Abel as well as their golden gargoyle, the bridge, and the bright fields with flowers that had long been extinct. His palace was grand and spectacular. White with gold and ceilings of stars and windows of stained glass. You loved it here, every moment.

Lucienne had been waiting for you in the library, happily explaining everything she could and leading you and Dream through the near-endless shelves all full of books. It was more than you could have ever imagined. Dream assured you that you'd be able to return whenever you wished and he'd held to that. Every night you came back and read a book alongside him. Every night you fell more in love with him than you'd ever thought possible.

You hadn't planned on telling him that, but Johanna had other plans. Devious Constantine plans. She's gathered you and Dream together to help her find some information and when both of you were lost in your respective spell books she loudly proclaimed you'd told her about a sex dream you'd had of the Endless being.

Mortified you sat frozen, glaring at her, while Dream calmly stated, "I would remember that quite vividly, had it happened."

Blushing you shook your head. "What the hell Johanna?"

"Well someone has to make a move or you two will just be skirting about each other for eternity!"

The incident, as you called it, was horrifying, but ultimately did lead you to admit your feelings for Dream and him doing so to you. Dating him was hardly any different than what the two of you usually did before, only now there were stolen moments of soft touches and tender kisses and... after a few months, intimate experiences that had your legs shaking days after.

Life was going well until you began receiving calls from an unknown number. Whoever it was never said a word, but each one made you feel sick. Soon every time you were out in public you'd be tingling with the horrid feeling that you were being followed, and watched. It was driving you crazy and Dream took note. He offered to send Matthew to stay with you when he could not to help ease your mind and quell your fears. Neither of you could have known how the simple act would save your life.

You'd just gotten home after a long day and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed to join your boyfriend in The Dreaming. From the door, you could hear Matthew perch in the window as you shed your coat and made your way to the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea. You didn't make it that far when a pair of arms wound around you, covering your mouth and dragging you through the house as you threw yourself around trying to break your attackers hold.

Matthew cawed and swooped down to attack the man that held you, but quickly realized he was of little help and fled to get Dream. It was then that the man spoke, revealing him to be your ex-boyfriend and a man that should have been in prison. As he talked you went still and in turn his hold on you loosened enough for you to throw your head back into this nose and break free.

You ran to the bathroom, locked the door behind you, and crawled into the tub, covering your ears with your hands and quietly praying Dream would come soon. In your state of adrenaline and fear you hardly noticed the black-clad being until his hands carefully reached out and touched you. You sobbed into his chest as he took you to The Dreaming and helped settle you into the bed.

On another night he wouldn't hesitate to sit beside you and comfort you until you fell asleep naturally. But on this night he sprinkled a pinch of sand over your eyes and tucked you into the bed. On this night he would deal with the man that had caused you so much pain and doubt.

He was still in your apartment, throwing himself at the bathroom door and taunting you when Dream returned. He opened the bathroom door and let the man fall to the ground in front of him. As he gazed up into the pitch-black eyes of Dream of the Endless the man scurried back like a frightened mouse. "I was beginning to fear we'd never meet."

"What the fuck are you?"

"I am Dream of the Endless and you have wronged one I hold most dear." He walked forward, darkness following in his steps. "And I cannot allow such to go unpunished."

"I didn't do anything!" The man insisted. "That bitch is a liar! She's crazy!"

Dream stepped onto his knee, listening to it crack beneath his boots. "Enough. Your lies will not sway one such as myself. Pitiful and hollow being that you are. Loveless and joyless... You never deserved her. Not her touch, nor her kind words, not even a moment in her presence."

The man would beg and plead, and Dream would let him. He'd listen to every word and he'd cherish each one, for he knew exactly the kind of pain he'd put you through. He knew every word you'd said to beg him, to plead with him for kindness and mercy, though this... creature would give you neither. When the majority of his bones were broken, either by an act of violence meant to harm Dream or by a mild movement of the Endless, Dream at last relented. "You will never see her again. Never touch her, hear her, or smell her. You will leave this place at once and you will never return. From this moment on you will live every moment of your life haunted by the pain you forced her to endure. You will know no moment of peace, no semblance of mercy or kindness. Even your begging would not be enough to sway me."

Dazed and confused and broken your ex would wake up in a hospital far away from your town. He'd not remember that night, but he'd live each moment in pain and anguish. Every night he'd dream of the King of Nightmares and hear his curse. He'd not live long.

Dream returned to your side, quietly pulling you into his chest as you stirred, kissing his neck and nuzzling your face into his soft messy hair. "Did you just get done working?"

"Yes," he answered. "Go back to sleep my love."

You looked into his eyes with still heavy lids. "Did something happen tonight?"

He tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you answered. "I think I had nightmare."

Dream's arms wrapped even tighter around you as he pressed his head to yours. "Go back to sleep. I will kill any nightmare that dares touch that beautiful mind of yours."

You giggled. "That's a bit extreme. Maybe just a stern warning would be better."

"Anything you wish, my love."