#that I've never written because nobody wants to read that

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𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲

pairing: yandere satoru gojo x chubby reader

summary: at the beginning gojo made your life hell when he first sees you because you won't give him attention. then it all changes, he just hated seeing you cry and he'll use all his resources and power to love you and spoil you

word count: 14.7k words

a/n: okay okay! i'm back! with something incredibly longer compared to every other oneshot i've written. i started this before gojo's birthday but it just kept getting longer and longer, then came the holidays and then i got ill too but it's finally finished, yay! i hope you all enjoy this and of course like always make sure you read the warnings before reading x

content warnings: gojo is a yandere!! friends to lovers, hints of stalking, gojo manipulates everyone, mentions of breeding, fingering, rough unprotective sex, cumming inside, gojo calls her 'silly girl' in his head and thinks she thinks to much (kind of like 'you don't need to think or make decisions or earn money because i can do that for you'), dirty talk, dumbification, objectification(?), submissive reader, dominant gojo, petnames: princess, sweetheart, (good girl) (if i've missed anything please let me know because it's very possible with 14.7k words - mdni / 18+

everyone flocks to satoru gojo, girls and guys alike, they want his attention, if only for a second, and want to be noticed by him. he's the beating heart to every social situation, with an ability to draw every single eye in the room on him, feeding off the spotlight and admiration. whatever he wants he gets it, he has since he was a young child so why are you being so difficult?

there's not many who he considers his equal, if he had to pick out one it would be his best friend from childhood suguru geto, two families telling their children to talk to the other in hopes to form more connections. gojo remembers to this day being five years old dressed up in a suit that was too stuffy for any five year old to wear, taken to a party with his parents. everywhere he looked there were elites and politicians, anyone and everyone with power. he remembers the nudge his mother gave him towards suguru's direction, telling her son to make friends. others at the university are lesser than him, but they're entertaining for a short duration, before he gets bored of them and tosses them away for someone else, that is.

then there's the nobodies, the lowest of the low. uninteresting in every way possible with nothing to offer him, nothing to pique his interest and in terms of satoru gojo you're a typical nobody but even the nobodies look his way when they think people won't notice. even the really shy ones or the stubborn ones who always say how much they despise how everyone adores him will momentarily glimpse in his direction when they think no one's looking.

but you... you look right past him, and it pisses him off. do you think you're better than him? even people in long term relationships eyes drift to him, most would break up with their partner for just one night with him. this 'most' mainly means all, everyone wants a chance to be with the man whose sexual escapades are spoken about frequently in such a high regard.

it's not like you don't know about his existence, you do, but you want to keep yourself to yourself. even your closest friends talk about the famous satoru gojo but he gives you the shivers for some reason. you've never spoken to him and you don't intend to, even if it's everyone's dream, it's not yours, something's just not quite right about him. you live in completely different worlds, different universes, and you prefer to dream about things more realistic, maybe dragons and flying saucers on occasion but never satoru gojo. not only is associating with him unrealistic but just the thought of him makes you shudder. he's too cocky, too self-assured, too arrogant, too loud, too... attractive, it doesn't seem right that someone would look that good. it's like he's hypnotised everyone bar you.

first it's irritation when he notices your behaviour, it's clear when you're acting the complete opposite to everyone, then it's anger when he sees you pay attention to someone that isn't him. something must be wrong with you if you're laughing at a joke that he didn't make, a joke told by another nobody, not just a nobody but someone a year younger. his actions are fuelled by his anger and his annoyance towards you. he makes sure every friend and acquaintance you have stops talking to you, it's easy really. all those so called 'friends' leave you alone after 'overhearing' hushed voices talk about how gojo's more likely to talk to someone when they're not friends with someone who's like you. it was easy to orchestrate it, all he needed was two girls who constantly fawn over him, perfect for doing his bidding.

"gojo never talks to yumehara, even though she tries so hard."

"yeah, it's because she's friends with moriyama. associating with someone like her is a no-go."

"moriyama?"

"yeah, you know that girl in class a, the one who thinks she's better than everyone and doesn't care about gojo."

you now sit by yourself and walk the corridors alone- easy. if he was more sympathetic towards you he'd almost feel bad that all of your friends would stop talking to you so readily.

next was your grades. the gojo family funds the university meaning that he had much more power than the average person, even more than people who also come from wealthy families. professors know it's in their best interest not to get on the bad side of the heir of the gojo family, not just for the university's sake but for themselves as well. one wrong move and they'll be fired, blacklisted throughout town unable to get a job. one wrong move and the university could lose all their funding. he wields more power than the headmaster.

you already get average grades, typically b's and occasionally c's but if he plays his cards right he knows he can lower those c's another extra grade down to an f and he knows just who to start with. professor iura: a man in his mid-thirties who's respected by all and he knows you like him. he's been told you try extra hard in his class, taking double the amount of notes in his lectures than you ordinarily do. he knows getting an f in his class first would be more hurtful than over all the other classes.

"professor iura don't you think the girl who wrote the paper on-" he stops mid sentence, what did you write about again?- "something so boring it hasn't even sunk in. i remember everyone else's but not hers." he only remembers his own and there was never any reason to see what a nobody like you wrote about.

the professor's eyebrows furrow before quickly schooling his expression back to impassive. satoru has used his influence before but iura's never heard about him using it as payback for whichever poor soul's caught his ire. "who is it?" iura thought you deserved an a this time, it's disappointing that he'll have to give you an f.

all these things start stacking up and you feel like the universe is against you, you don't understand your sudden drop in grades or why your friends won't talk to you. you do your best to put on a brave face but you feel alone, you have no one to turn to, you don't understand why everyone gives you the cold shoulder and why they pretend you don't exist, your facial expression dropping when someone ignores you for the umpteenth time. you don't understand how your water always seems to spill in your bag all over your things even though you swear you've put on the lid securely, screwing the lid on the bottle so tightly your hands suffer the consequence, almost raw, from how tight you've tried to make it. you can't afford to buy another textbook and you don't have enough time to rewrite your essay.

you don't understand how things go missing every time you look away. you glance to the window when you see a falling leaf, burnt orange and crimson red litter the floor outside. autumn is so beautiful, a season of harvest and abundance but it's a reminder to you that nothing lasts forever, leaves fall and people leave. people talk about how autumn is maturing but omits the melancholy idea that it's just growing old, that burnt oranges and crimson reds are just rotting on the ground. your whole world is rotting with every second, the universe has it out for you and by the time you look back into the room your pen is missing.

gojo takes pleasure from seeing your face at these times, that puzzled look and biting your lip in frustration as you've lost another pen or that pout when your friend ignores you, he thinks it looks pretty on you. not that he'd ever admit that of course.

his pleasure twists though, into a new emotion- a darker emotion. you got another f and you look... sad... distraught. satoru enjoys seeing your pout when something goes wrong for you, he thinks it's pretty but he's watching you like a hawk right now, he can't take his eyes off you, he can tell you're trying desperately to hold it all together but you can't stop your eyes from welling up, it's impossible to stop your waterline brimming with tears, overflowing like a broken tap, hot tears running down your face, you attempt to quickly wipe your tears away with the back of your sleeve in hopes that nobody has seen but it's too late for that. he thought he would take pleasure in seeing you cry but instead it's pure rage. even though he's the one that's convinced all of your professors to give you f's, all he feels is fury for them making you cry. he doesn't want you to cry, he wants to keep you safe, wants to make you all his.

in the following weeks professors leave the university without announcing it to students. leaving studies and classes in a limbo for awhile. not just the professor who made you cry is gone but also iura and several others.

with that limbo period came more group projects to fill in the space of the lack of lectures. a 'little' push from satoru to higher ups and you were paired up together, leaving you no choice to spend time together and have your first conversation with each other. at this point he needed to be near you. you sit across from each other after class and you introduce yourself to each other, even though you both know who the other is, you didn't expect him to know you and he acts like he doesn't. "oh i know you, i really liked your last paper. you got an f, right? i can't believe that, it was the best one." after all your friends avoiding you and all those f's getting validation makes you shyly smile, your cheeks feel warm and you're starting to understand why people like him.

things start to change after that. your f's go back to normal and people are kinder, with everything going back to normal satoru makes sure you're still alone though, makes sure your friends continue not to talk to you. he's the only one that's allowed to do that. your friends still don't spend time with you, instead gojo does and honestly you don't mind that change, you appreciate that change, you don't know what happened with your friends but you like how gojo doesn't dismiss your emotions and opinions like they used to do.

you previously had that inkling that something was wrong with him but his easygoing smiles and playful words make you enjoy your time with him and his once overconfidence that you always used to observe which once bothered you now makes your heartbeat go crazy in your chest, like marching drums hammering away against your ribcage.

satoru notices this change in you and he takes advantage of it. this change doesn't make him lose interest in you, maybe if you were someone else it would but not with you, if anything it makes him more interested because he learns more and more without you, some with your consent and knowledge others without it. he thinks you look so cute when you smile and he loves hearing you laugh. he never really liked music but he's listened to all those music and songs you share to the world like the ones you love that you play in cars and talk to people about them, plus the more secret ones hidden in your likes and private playlists. he loves the things you do that you don't realise you're doing, the soft sighs you make when you put on a warm coat when it's cold or the hums when you drink a hot drink. how you bite your pen when you're deep in thought and linger by the door before leaving the house and locking up, mentally checking you have everything you need with you. the little moans you make when you eat something that you love, at those times satoru has to restrain himself from kissing you. he loves it all. he loves you.

you see each other whenever possible and if you can't you'll be texting, he'll send you emoji's at the end of messages that you don't understand the context to and will send you selfies and photos of cats he's seen while around town.

after the first few times at the library you tend to see each other at café because they're more relaxed and you can talk as loud as you want to. he starts paying for your lunch whenever you're together, you always used to insist to pay yourself but after the first few times you relented, he could buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday for the rest of your life yet it still wouldn't make a dent in his wallet. not only does he buy you lunch now but it's much more extravagant then you could afford for yourself.

you're walking together past a store front window and gojo sees something that catches his eye, stopping where he is and pulling on your sleeve to stop you too. "look at this!"

your eyes scan the window not knowing what he's talking about, all of them are designer clothes but none of them are men's. "what are we looking at gojo?"

he grins and points to a blouse, "that would look so good on you, you'd look so cute!" 'doubtful' you think. you scoff, that is a cute blouse but no way. "hey, what was that for? it's true." he insists.

"i don't even need to go in there to see that it's way out of my price range, plus designer brands like that never have my size anyway."

"you didn't say you didn't like it."

"me liking or not liking it isn't the point."

you carry on the rest of your day like it didn't happen and you forget about the whole thing. gojo doesn't.

all of gojo's fans start to get jealous of you, it's been over three months, the limbo period is over and new people have been hired, group projects are finished but you still spend all your days together. his previous relationships have been no more than eye candy only lasting a couple weeks yet you don't even seem to be dating so why is he always smiling when you talk and is walking you everywhere. they can't comprehend it, you're a nobody.

satoru loses it one day. you've gone to hand in your library book, it's overdue and you had forgotten about it, you needed it for when you and gojo were working together but you forgot all about it. gojo's waiting outside for you, you know the librarian likes you more so you've told him it's better if you go on your own, he knows that isn't true but as long as the librarian is kind to you he won't intervene. 'if the librarian knows what's good for her she'll let it go and not upset you.'

someone gojo vaguely recognises as a cheerleader who suguru slept with a few times spots him and goes over to him, leaning against him and pushing her breasts up against him. it disgusts him. "what are you doing here gojo? don't tell me that friend of yours is making you wait for her." she says in a sickly sweet voice and his eye twitches. he doesn't reply, she should get the idea and leave. "if i were her i'd never do that. why don't you come hang out with me? me and my friends are having a party later we'd love it if you'd come. normally i wouldn't come up to you so boldly but i think i'd be able to show you a good time, not like that girl you're always spending time with, you're so out of her league." she runs her hand along his arm but he grabs it tightly making her wince.

"don't ever fucking talk about her again," gojo responds coldly. he squeezes tighter and she yelps. he lets go of arm and pushes her away, almost in revulsion that he touched her. she stumbles and leans against the wall, looking shocked. at that time you push open the door with a relieved look on your face. satoru ignores the girl, acting like she doesn't exist, he smiles brightly at you. "everything okay?"

"yeah, she was surprisingly very understanding," you return his smile and shut the door behind you. when you shut the door you see the girl leaning against the wall staring at gojo and you wonder why. you've seen lots of gojo's fans but none of them have looked at him like that. you turn your attention back to gojo, not really wanting to engage with the girl if you can help it, you've never seen her before but you can tell that she's someone who would make your life hell if you knew each other as teenagers. "is everything okay?" you ask him, vaguely gesturing to her.

he grins and strolls towards you lifting up his sunglasses and lifting up your chin to look at him, forcing you to make eye contact and in doing so you get flustered and frazzled. gojo would sometimes put his arm over your shoulder when your walking together or grab hold of you quickly from behind unexpectedly, making you jump but this is the first time it's ever been so intimate. it's also rare for you to see gojo without his sunglasses on. "everything's fine." he grins and pats your head jokingly making you glare and pout. he snickers as he sees your reaction and lets go of your chin, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

"alright, if you say so, but for lunch i'm getting extra for that, i'm not some pet." you grumble and walk off together. satoru's mind flashes with images with you on your knees, 'i think she'd make a good pet. maybe i should buy her a collar.' he snickers again and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "what's so funny?"

"nothing," he smirks. as you walk away he turns back around to look at the girl still standing there paralysed and glares hard at the girl. normally people would be swooning when they see his bright blue eyes like the clearest spring days but not right now, they'd all be wrong, his eyes aren't clear like any warm day they're frozen over and icy, with flecks of white and all that girl feels is despair and dread. he looks at her so cruelly, it makes her unable to move- frozen in place.

you haven't seen gojo for the last few days, it's the longest you've gone without seeing him since you became friends. even if you've both been busy previously gojo makes sure to have seen you, even if it's only for a minute, but you've both been too busy. gojo has had basketball practise in the day and in the night his family demands his attendance whilst discussing family affairs and you on the other hand have been busy studying, wanting to make sure you don't get any f's again. you don't realise you won't though, everything could be incoherent with each other word being spelled terribly and you'd never get an f again, gojo's made sure of that. he won't let anyone make you cry again.

you rhythmically tap your fingers, fidgeting on the table where your laptop and textbooks are, 'i want to see him.' satoru's scored another goal, this time a three point line goal, normally he goes for slam dunks but as long as he's the one scoring it doesn't really bother him. he's got a big game coming up and you're going to be there, you're going for him, you've never been to any of the games before, not having any real interest in the sport but now your friend is the star player so you're not going to miss any games. he'll score every single point his team makes so your eyes have no option but to focus on him and after the match you'll compliment him. the coach asks him something but it's all white noise to him, 'i miss her.'

you get a text on the fourth day of not seeing him and when you read the message you smile so wide your face becomes sore. 'the last few days have been so long without you! i know we normally go out for lunch but do you want to go for dinner?'

you don't hesitate responding, 'i'd love too!'

'i'll pick you up an hour before our reservations, i've brought you something.'

'reservations? did you plan tonight? and what's this about buying me something? you already pay for my lunch.'

'i've pulled some strings xoxo see you tonight.' you scowl when you read that he's blatantly ignored your comment about buying you something and if he's went out his way to pull some strings for this meal it must be more than a fast food drive-thru or the equivalent. you didn't really expect him to take you somewhere where you can eat in your car or it's acceptable to wear a three day old top and a hoodie that is a little too small but for him to go to the effort of pulling strings this must be a sophisticated place.

half an hour later you hear your phone again, multiple messages being sent one after another, five buzzes. 'shit.' 'I FORGOT' 'i forgot to send a time!' 'i'll see you at 6.' 'pretend this never happened.' you cover your face with your phone and giggle.

by six you're ready, it's taken you longer to get ready then you'd like to admit but you wanted to look pretty, it would be embarrassing to underdress. compared to gojo anything you or any 'normal' person would wear looks cheap in comparison to all his designer clothes but you spent hours making sure it would be suitable.

it's ten past six when you hear a knock on the door. opening it you see gojo in all his glory, his attractiveness on full display and his wealthiness showing, wearing an all black giorgio armani suit with a white shirt underneath, his sunglasses look different than normal, fancier, you think you can make out a ray-ban logo. he's wearing a rolex watch which is more than double your monthly rent. his hair looks shorter than the last time you saw him, he must of had a haircut in the last few days. it's obvious the way your eyes linger on him, checking him out and gojo grins as you unknowingly fuel his pride and ego.

"awe, you look so cute princess," gojo says playfully, smirking. princess- the first time he had called you that you malfunctioned, your eyes had widened and you forgot to breath. no one else has ever called you a term of endearment before and you didn't expect your friend, satoru gojo, to be saying it. you didn't ask why he called you it, why would you? it made your fingertips tingle and the inside of your chest to warm up. "can i come in?" you nod your head and move to the side to give him enough room to come in and close the door after him. "you really do look beautiful," he says gently, you don't think you've ever heard him speak so tenderly before.

"you look good too gojo, you always do but- but tonight as well," you tell him, bashfully smiling. he grins and his eyes gleam with glee at the genuine compliment. he loves when you compliment him, it feels different than the vapid ones others offer him, even if you compliment him with only a few words it means a greater deal.

behind his back he's carrying a sleek black box with a scarlet red chiffon ribbon wrapped around it in a bow containing his gift to you, your eyes narrow when he hands it too you, although your voice is soft and quiet when you say, "it's not my birthday gojo, why are you buying me things? you don't have to do that," your voice gets quieter with each word spoken.

gojo takes your hand in his and places the box in your hand. "i can buy you things because i can. i have enough money and i want to spend it on you," he tells you firmly and your stomach flutters with butterflies but you don't know why, his hand is awfully soft maybe that's why your heart is racing or maybe it's because he spoke to you firmly like there's no room for arguments. gojo cups your cheek with his unoccupied hand and strokes it, your whole body melts at the action, "just open it 'kay?"

you nod your head and hum, relenting- just like you did when he began paying for your lunch. you delicately unwrap the bow, not wanting to ruin the box, and open it, you didn't know what to expect, you could of been given a hundred guesses and a hundred days to guess what he brought you and you still would have no clue. you pause as you open up the lid, your heart skips a beat and it's almost as if the air was stolen from your lungs like deflated balloons as you breathlessly say, "satoru! what's this?" inside the box is the blouse you were looking at all those weeks ago, the one you said was too expensive, the one you said would never fit.

'satoru' it's the first time you've ever called him by his given name and it sounds so angelic coming from your lips that he's forgotten to breathe, everything pausing and not moving. "do you like it?" he finally asks.

you nod your head in an almost daze, you're in awe that he'd really give you something so beautiful, that he would go out of his way to buy it. "i- i don't deserve this gojo."

he steps closer to you, "uh uh, what's with calling me gojo again?"

your eyes widen as you realise that only a second ago you called him by his given name, "oh! i'm so sorry! i was just in shock, i didn't mean to call you that gojo," you ramble.

he smoothed out the wrinkles of his forehead rubbing it with his fingers, which is currently caused because he finds your lack of awareness disconcerting. "that isn't what i meant princess, i want you to call me satoru. i want to give this to you."

"oh... okay," you're quiet and you've pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. it won't be hard to start calling him satoru, you already call him satoru in your head. after a long pause of you trying to put your thoughts all together you start speaking again, "are you sure about this satoru? this is bound to be expensive, right? it's- it's ralph lauren isn't it? isn't this too expensive too be spending on me." gojo has to hide a smirk at that, 'has she forgotten how rich i am?' "and, and i don't want you to think that i want to spend time with you because you have money or anything!" 'ah she's adorable, i could just cancel our reservations and have her on her knees the whole night to say thank you for the blouse... i couldn't do that though, not right now... if i don't see her in that blouse in the next five minutes i'll go insane.'

"of course i'm sure about this princess, i know you'd never spend time with me for clothes from ralph lauren." he resists the urge to pull you in by your waist and kiss you, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, not at this moment.

you take the blouse out of the gift box and hold it out in front of you, there's a twinkle in your doe eyes as you look at it in wonder, knowing that this is yours, whispering, "pretty," it's barely audible. "wait, i didn't think this store went up to my size? did you go to a different store? and... how do you know my size." you ask him confused.

"i have my ways," he answers and winks at you, you scoff at the wink and narrow your eyes.

"seriously satoru," you press him. 'ah she could ask me anything and i'll tell her if she keeps calling me satoru.' "actually i know you know my size from when you've seen my coats and jumpers lying around but-" 'oh yeah... that's totally how i know...' "- how did you get it in my size?"

"annoyingly they don't actually make that particular blouse in your size... how ridiculous is that, sadly i don't have enough money and connections to make them ruined and bankrupt." he says nonchalantly, casually waving his arm around. you bark out a laugh thinking that he was joking. he wasn't. if even one article of clothing isn't made in your size it should only be fair for the brand to lose all their money and reputation, no matter what the brand is.

"hold up how do i have this if it doesn't come in my size?" you cock your head to the side quizzically and for the second time gojo thinks about buying you a collar, maybe with a matching lead...

he grins and flicks his eyes back and forth between your face and the blouse you're holding up. "obviously i got it custom made,"

"that's- that's obvious?!" you splutter and he laughs.

"obviously." he reiterates, enjoying your reaction- dumbstruck and lips parted in near disbelief.

"it'll take us thirty minutes to get to the restaurant princess and our reservations in about forty minutes." he lets you know and you snap out of your stupor.

"i'll just get my bag."

"hang on!" satoru rushes out before you can leave to get your bag. "you look beautiful right now princess but don't you want to see how that blouse looks on you?" you shift your weight from side to side, heat rising to your cheeks. 'do i really have time to get changed? i spent so long choosing this outfit too.' before you can say something gojo stops you, not wanting to give you an opportunity to say no or think to hard about it. he wants you to do it, you don't have to have an opinion on the matter, leave that him. sometimes you can't be trusted when it comes to these things. "come on princess, i'm the one who brought you it. just wear it, please. i want to make sure it fits properly."

you yield, "okay let me go get changed."

satoru smirks, 'good girl.'

as you come back out of the bedroom adrenaline bursts through his veins. you twirl around, pausing when you circle back round to gojo and picking up the hem of your skirt playfully with one hand and doing a half curtsy, it's such a happy coincidence that the blouse pairs so well with the skirt you're already wearing, "how do i look?" 'beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal.'

"perfect," he replies dreamily and you giggle, thinking he isn't being serious and is exaggerating.

"i'm serious satoru," you tell him, it was meant to sound firm and like you won't back down until you get an answer but it just turned out sounding a little whiny.

gojo smirks and leisurely saunters to you, stopping when coming up close in front of you, "you look truly beautiful sweetheart." 'sweetheart' he's never called you that before. you don't know if your heart can keep taking it all. satoru's your friend, your close friend, but at times like this it's hard to remember that.

you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling- admittedly unsuccessfully. the corners of your mouth still quirk up and your round cheeks become more predominate. you fight the desire to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, instead opting to twiddle your fingers. "sh-should we get going?"

satoru grins at you, "sure thing."

the whole drive you're both stealing looks at each other when you can get away with it while making small talk and satoru's not letting you know where you're going saying that it's a surprise. whenever there's a red light gojo takes his time to admire you and as you step outside into the night you're astonished at the restaurant in front of you. satoru's handing his car keys to a valet to park his car but you're distracted from that, finally knowing where you're eating tonight. you know this place, well you know of this place. never in a million years would you have thought you'd be dining here, it's so lavish that the cutlery is more expensive than buying a house that's already furnished. "are you okay princess?" you snap out of your daze and nod your head. "alright then, let's go inside."

you follow closely behind gojo, nervous as you enter, you don't think you've ever felt more out of place. satoru doesn't even give his name, the man at the desk recognises him straight away, "ah mr. gojo if you'd follow me." the man leads you upstairs and you hear him asking satoru questions but all that's going through your mind is 'please don't trip, please don't trip.' you're quite accident prone and falling down these stairs would be too much to handle. he takes you all the way to the fourth floor and near the window where you can see the city lights shining below. "here you are."

when the man leaves satoru pulls out a chair for you and you're startled by the gesture. you take your seat and he takes his. "you're more gentlemanly then i expected you to be satoru, pulling out my chair for me," you pause for a second mulling your thoughts over before adding, "or is that normal etiquette?"

"i'm very chivalrous, i'll have you know," he replies pouting and you raise an eyebrow at how fake his answer sounded. he throws his hands up with a smirk, "well, i'm not always chivalrous but if a pretty lady is in front of me than i can become very courteous." you chuckle, trying not to hone in the pretty part for your own sanity.

you glance at the table and worry because satoru might know proper etiquette but you don't. you know the general rules and ideas but why are there two knives and forks next to your plate and a spoon as well? why are there two glasses, a wine one and a normal one? why does the napkin look fancy? does that mean it's just for decoration, what if you need it? you're worried that you'll leave smudges in places where there shouldn't be and what if the table cloth rips? maybe this was a mistake...

"hey," satoru says softly catching your attention, when you look back up at him you see his smirk has turned into a frown and you don't think you've seen that expression on his face before, it doesn't fit right. he's taken off his sunglasses and placed them down, hanging them out of his suit pocket. his striking baby blue eyes glinting when the chandelier droplets move in the light. his snowy white hair looking soft and subdued under the glow of the light and the wavering flame of the candle. "sweetheart, whatever you're thinking right now isn't true."

"how did y-"

he cuts you off before you can finish asking. "because i know you and i know that look on your face, that overthinking look, i can see all those unnecessary cogs turning in your brain."

"i just..." you look away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes any longer knowing you'll crumble but gojo's not allowing that. with how long his arms are it's not difficult reaching over the table to you, placing his fingers below your chin and tilting your head around to look at him.

"just what? sweetheart." satoru presses you.

bunching up your skirt into tight fists you take a shaky breath and try again, "i'm worried i don't belong here. this is a really lovely place satoru and i just... what if i embarrass you? i'm not like you, i don't know when to do certain things or say specific things, i don't know why the table is placed like it is or any of it," after the words stop spewing out your mouth you take another breath, this time not shaky and deep. you look relieved to get it out.

'silly girl.' "do you really think i'd get embarrassed because of you sweetheart? nothing you could do would make me embarrassed. i'm lucky that you're with me right now. i don't care if you don't know all the rules and you shouldn't either, all that matters is that we're here together and we get to finally see each other after some hectic few days," gojo tells you earnestly, his body close to the edge of the table, leaning forward further near you, his voice low and intimate, like what he's saying is a complete secret for your ears only. the days were hectic and finally you're getting to see each other. those tedious meetings with his family and hours of basketball that seemed to stretch on and on but finally- you're together again.

your shoulders sag, you weren't even aware that your plush figure had tensed up in the first place. when satoru saw how you relaxed your posture he picks up one of the menus, "everything okay now?" he asks you, his eyes soft as they gaze at you.

"yeah, i think so." you lick your lips, wetting them after getting dry, the intense spike of emotions throwing your body threw a little bit of a loop, dry lips, moist eyes, with shaky fingers.

gojo grins and leans back on his chair, seeming more casual than a minute ago and hands you a menu. "what are you thinking about getting? i might go for the lobster."

you're browsing the menu but when you hear him you put it down momentarily to reply, "oh please, like you care about the lobster, you just want dessert," you say grinning wide.

gojo gasps and places his hands on his chest in mock offence. "dessert? i think you mean desserts." you laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. "i want you to enjoy this meal just as much as i'm planning to, that's why i intend to get the lobster, i don't want you to feel like you have to rush while eating just because i want dessert and i don't want you to even think about a silly thing like money." 'so he's ordering one of the biggest and expensive dishes? ...that does sound like satoru actually.' although you would be none the wiser about the prices of these meals, it's one of those high-end restaurants that doesn't have the prices on the menu, satoru must have been here often enough to know how much the lobster costs compared to other dishes.

"i don't know what to do about drinks, i hear they've got a fine collection of wines, maybe we should order a couple bottles? do you like wine?" he already knows the answer to that but you don't know that. "they've also got a wide selection of spirits and non-alcoholic drinks too, i believe."

you both order what you want, making idle conversation while waiting.

by the time your food arrives satoru has tried to convince you that you should've ordered a bigger meal, you're content with your choice in the end though and it's not the most surprising that when your food does arrive there's also a side dish for you to which you didn't order.

"i didn't order this satoru," you raise an eyebrow.

gojo smirks, "i know you didn't, but i did. i didn't want you to be hungry and we haven't had lunch together in days have you been eating properly?"

"are you suggesting that because i'm eating food in my price bracket instead of yours that it's not good enough? the food you pay for is definitely better but poor people food taste good too."

he chuckles and smiles at you fondly before replying, "that's not what i'm saying and you know i'm not. I am however asking have you been eating three meals a day?" you wince. "i thought not."

"i've been busy with studies, i didn't have time to eat three meals a day every single day," you try to justify.

"that's exactly what i mean. i won't take any excuses though, you shouldn't have skipped any meals." satoru lightly scowls you but don't take it too seriously, you should have though. 'silly girl, she really can't look after herself properly. it's a good thing i'm here to keep an eye on her. she just can't be trusted on her own.'

you pout at his reasoning, it's not often that gojo reprimands you or anyone you've seen for that matter. knowing that you don't have a leg to stand on you keep quiet.

when you eat the first bite of your food you hum blissfully, so close to being a moan and it's music to satoru's ears, 'god she's adorable.' he doesn't even realise that he isn't eating until you noticed that he's unmoving. "satoru are you okay? you're not eating."

"i'm fine sweetheart just thinking about something," he responds with a smile.

"okay- if you're sure but make sure you eat soon or it'll get cold."

"yes ma'am," satoru gives you a cheeky smile and picks up his fork.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you lose any composure that you previously had. you avert you eyes and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly finding it very interesting, focusing on the material. you never knew being called something would make you feel so strange, it was the complete opposite to gojo calling you princess or sweetheart.

even though satoru picked up his fork and began eating he didn't take his eyes off you at the corner of his eye, he wanted to see your reaction to that name. he wanted to test how docile you are, his theory that you are submissive and it seems he was right, although even if he wasn't and his theory was proven wrong he'd just mold you into what he wants. 'of course she's so perfect that i don't need to change her, she's such a good girl.'

quickly ma'am leaves your head with the more delicious food you have but you can't help some negative thoughts enter your mind. everything starts to feel too good to be true, the twinkling lights and the flickering of the candle on the table, the scenery and the ambience, the delectable food and the amazing beverages, the dream company with someone who you care so very much about, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else and... it just all feels too good to be true.

'how many girls does gojo come here with? they knew who he was without giving his name. i know i'm not his girlfriend. it's not like i'm jealous it's just- i want this so bad to be special. am i one in a long line?' you have to ask, you have to know. if you're not special you need to know.

"satoru-" you start by getting his attention.

he looks up at you and sees the pensive look on your face, he puts his cutlery down and ceases eating, directing all his attention to you, "yes princess?"

"can i ask you something?" you ask, hesitant and more meekly now you have his attention.

"of course you can princess," he smiles and waits for you to ask whatever it is. he truly doesn't know what it could be right now.

"am i special? i mean- wait- not special. i mean do you take lots of girls here? they seemed to know your name already so do you? i know we're friends so it wouldn't be the same as you taking other girls here but do you take lots of girls here?"

he doesn't even try to stop the smirk that creeps onto his face, you're jealous and what's even better do you even know that you're jealous. satoru can barely contain his excitement.

not once have you brought up other girls, not once. you've never asked if it's true that he doesn't date anyone for longer than a month or that he's gone through half the school. you've never asked about the crude gossip about how big his dick is and how he's the best anyone has ever had even though he knows you've definitely heard those rumours. but right now? right now your words hint of jealously and insecurity.

satoru tells the truth as he replies simply "i haven't brought any girls here." gojo dangles the small piece of information in front of you, it isn't a question of if you'll take it and ask further questions he knows you will but he wants to hear you ask for more, it thrills him.

"you-you dont?" you ask for more explanation.

he grins, "nope," he pops the 'p'. "i go here with my family and on occasion suguru but only sometimes with suguru because it can be kind of intimate with two people," he explains and you giggle at the thought of the two of them sitting across from each other here. he carries on his explanation, "i would never go here with other girls, of course you're special," he tells you honestly and your lips part, hanging onto every word spoken.

'i'm special.' you press your lips together but the corners of your mouth still manage to lift up into a small smile. your brain then fully catches up with everything he said and your heart beats erratically, just now satoru said a dinner here between two people is intimate, he didn't word it in that exact way but if a dinner for two with suguru is intimate, a dinner for two with you might be considered intimate too. overall you're pleased with the answer you were given, gojo thinks your special and he doesn't take other girls here.

you eat the rest of your dinner without incident, enjoying every single mouthful and letting gojo know that it's tasty, thanking him. when you order dessert it's no surprise that satoru goes a bit overboard nearly buying the whole dessert menu, not that you would ever complain about a thing like that, the more time you've spent with gojo the more of a sweet tooth you've become yourself.

satoru doesn't attempt to hide the bill, he enjoys the look on your face when you see the amount in the corner of your eye. for him the money is trivial sum but to you it's shockingly high. he gets a power trip when he sees your eyes widen at the money.

"do you want to come back to mine?" satoru asks you while you leave the restaurant and you agree not thinking anything of it. he's been to yours before but you've never been to his. you don't think there's anything behind his question, you don't even consider he's suggesting something and gojo's well aware that you don't realise.

you don't speak much on your way back, you're leaning against the window and watching the city lights, it's starting to drizzle and you feel at ease in your current company, your eyes fluttering, slightly drowsily, as you hear the rain. gojo taps his fingers on the steering wheel and smiles thinking about how adorable you look right now.

the journey back to satoru's could've taken ten minutes to an hour for all you know as your mind wanders and your eyelids get heavy. when you arrive and he parks up and you get out of the car, you shiver a bit as the cold air hits you, giving you a shock and getting rid of any lingering tiredness and satoru walks around the car to be next to you. he pouts as he bends down to look at you, his sunglasses still in his jacket pocket, "pretty ladies aren't just supposed to have their chair pulled out for them, they're meant to have doors open for them too."

you giggle and bump against him, "flattery will get you nowhere mister." it does. luckily you'll be able to blame your flushed face due to the bitterly cold if gojo questions you on it.

"let's get inside sweetheart, it's cold." 'sweetheart' something else you can luckily blame on the weather. you're not expecting satoru to randomly touch your face though so you think you're going to be okay.

you follow him inside and the size of his place is a large as you thought it would be, you're learning to expect everything he owns is extravagant. the interior however is something you take note of, you've only entered one room but it seems barren. the walls are drab, painted slate grey and off white with only the bare necessaries of furniture and nothing more. devoid of any human presence. you're not even sure if he's lived here long and when he looks at you he can see those unnecessary cogs turning in your head again. "is something on your mind princess?"

"um-" you don't really know if you should bring it up but your curiosity gets the better of you. "have you lived here long?"

"a couple of years," satoru leans against the wall and smirks.

"i just- there's not a lot of stuff in here, it looks like you still have unpacking to do."

he pushes himself off the wall and goes over to you, "do you think i should get more stuff? like cushions for the the sofa and posters on the wall?" you feel gojo's breath against your skin as he leans down to talk in your ear quietly, it's so intimate, your mind draws a blank finding it hard to think with him so close to you. satoru is playful and he's teasing and you've heard rumours that he's a flirt but he's never been this close to you before, you've never been able to smell his cologne and been this close to feel his warm breath against your neck. "maybe we should go shopping together and you could help me pick out some stuff?" you're holding your breath, not being able to breathe anymore. "or maybe it would be better if you just stayed here and brought your stuff along? you do always complain about your rent being high."

you take a sharp intake of air and move a step away from him so you can look back at him in the eye. mentally shaking your head to forgot about his remark. 'did gojo just say about me being his roommate? i'd get to see him everyday... wait... i'd have to hear him all the time when he brings home girls and does he even clean after himself properly?'

"did you have too much to drink tonight satoru? you know you shouldn't drink and drive," you reply with light tone, reminding yourself not to think too hard about the situation, almost being successful in your mission.

satoru just watches you and smirks as he sees you try to ignore his comment. "anyway i don't think you need a roommate." 'roommate? yeah i don't need one of those...'

"and for all i know you might steal my food from the fridge and not wash up the dishes. plus i always forget my towel when i shower." you say the last sentence flippantly, but satoru's mind fills with thoughts of you... 'walking out of the shower into the living room with a small towel on, barely covering your body, body damp with water dripping down your neck, onto your shoulders down to the valley of your breasts...' he's getting hard just imagining it.

"are you okay satoru? you're a bit red." you question and the topic of conversation changes.

satoru moves back away from you, "i'm okay princess, probably thirsty. do you want a drink?" he's glad of this change, he'd like to tease you more but there'd be a real chance you'd see his erection, he could probably tease you about it if you'd notice it but he doesn't think you're ready yet. he wants to make sure you're relaxed and comfortable. you've got a long night ahead of you.

"sure."

following him into the kitchen you take a seat on one of the kitchen counter stools. "what would you like to drink?"

not wanting to ask for something he might not have or cause a fuss you respond with, "whatever you're having is good with me."

'she's so predictable.' he pours both of you your favourite drink, he knows all your preferences, of course he's stocked up on everything you like. he hands it to you and you smile wide, "this is like my all time favourite drink, i didn't know you liked it too."

in situations like this he switches his answers up from time to time not wanting you to get suspicious. "do you like these too? the amount i get through weekly is crazy." he makes sure to separate things into two categories, things you've told him and things you haven't but he knows anyway. he wouldn't want to mention in conversation about how he remembers that you like these drinks when you've never told so.

satoru likes when he tells you things that subtly suggest, 'look how much we have in common. we like all the same music and drinks!'

he prefers when he tells you he remembers something you told him, you quietly replying to him once about how much it means to you because "no one has ever cared about me to remember something so mundane about me." he swears that he'll remember everything about you, he swore he'd never forget a single thing.

gojo takes his place next to you, sitting on the stool and purposely brushing his hand against your rib, under your breast, and he gets pleasure from seeing you straighten up your back.

you both enjoy your drinks and kick your legs in the air. "i feel bad because you've been driving me around all night. when i go i'll get an uber or cab or something."

gojo frowns, "are you going now?"

"n-no! unless you want me to?" you don't want to overstay your welcome and you have a feeling that if gojo wanted you to go he'd let you know and you want to look around the other rooms if you have a chance, perhaps not his bedroom for privacy reasons but you want to see if his other rooms have plain decoration and if the bathroom has any noteworthy products in, you have always wanted to know how his skin looks so good all the time.

"i'm definitely not telling you to leave princess... in fact why don't you stay the night? you can stay in the spare room. no pressure though. you don't have to but there might not be anywhere you can get a lift because of how late it is and how it's the other side of town adding that all onto it's now pouring down. i'd offer to take you back myself but i'm not a huge fan of driving in the dark, especially if the roads are slippy 'cause to the rain. it's your choice. i'm sure you'll get someone to take you eventually but it might be less effort to stay here and leave tomorrow?"

he knows you don't want to wait forever getting home, he knows you want to take him up on his offer but something is stopping you, he doesn't know what is it for a moment until he figures it. "it's absolutely no bother, i don't mind and i've got clothes that you can wear, i think i wore them to lounge about in on tuesday so i haven't had time to wash them yet but i don't think that's a huge problem. i wear them a lot but they're too big on me, you should fit in them."

that small comment might have upset you more if it came from someone else but you don't think gojo meant it maliciously, you think it came from a good place, however you couldn't help thinking about it, the words 'they're too big on me, you should fit in them' ring around your head, about how you should fit in them. you know that satoru didn't mean anything by that but you've never worn someone else's clothes before so it gives you a bit of anxiety and satoru can see that.

gojo speaks again in an attempt to stop you from other thinking. "if you did want to go i'll give you the money to get a cab but if not you can stay, it's no problem, in fact i would enjoy it." your eyes snap up to look at him and you see a soft smile adorning his face. "we could watch that new film you were telling me about and i don't mean to brag but my shower is amazing, nothing compares, even five star hotels." you crack a smile but your mind still lingers on the clothes. satru can see that still not fully convinced and there's something stopping you, "is this about the clothes?" you shift your eyes away nervously not wanting to admit how you clung to a few words. gojo stops himself from sighing in exasperation. "if you'd feel more comfortable keeping the blouse and skirt on you can, you do look good in them but you shouldn't overthink about wearing my clothes. i know i said they're not clean but i've only worn them once since they've been washed it's not like they're diseased." you giggle and satoru gets less exasperated after hearing you laugh.

"they'll fit you if that's what you're worried about and honestly even if they are a little tight you'd still look good in my shirt, it would just hang onto your hips a bit." your mouth parts, the previous throwaway remark being swiped away like smoke by his hand, instead being replaced by insurance that it will fit and if by the off chance it doesn't then it's not the end of the world. he hopes it doesn't fit.

it quells your mind and you agree to stay. "thank you satoru, i'd appreciate staying, over the hassle of getting home."

he grins at your answer, hands itching to take off your blouse. "do you want a shower now so we can watch that film?"

"sounds good." you follow him into the bathroom and it looks like the living room, crystal clean, newly moved into, the only difference is his electric toothbrush on the side and moisturiser. gojo doesn't leave when he shows you into the room, he doesn't leave when he makes a quick explanation about how the shower works, in fact he didn't tell you at all. instead of telling you he turns the shower on, adjusting the handle to change the temperature to the one you prefer and pressing a button next to the handle, keeping his finger on it for a few seconds before removing it, changing the water pressure. "here you go princess," he grins and turns back to you. you think to yourself about how you could of figured out how to work the shower but you don't vocalise it, you've been in enough showers to know how they work but satoru's one is probably different if he did it himself.

"oh, the shower wash and shampoo is there, i don't know if you want to wash your hair but it's there if you need it. you'll have to use my one." he then leaves, before placing a towel on the sink for you to grab when you get out. he owns all the soaps and scents you use but you can't use them, he doesn't want to share. if he gave you them you'd be suspicious and there would be less for him to use when he misses your smell, groaning in the shower after he gets home from basketball his hands massaging your shampoo into his scalp, one hand in his hair the other fisting his cock. he'll buy you new perfumes and soaps for the holidays, he would never change any of your signature scents but you deserve more expensive products in his eyes.

a part of you still can't help but think about the clothes but when you step into the shower your eyes close and body relaxes, somehow it's the perfect way you like your showers. all of it melts away and as you pick up gojo's shower wash your body heats up inside. you're going to use the same soap as gojo uses and once you recognise how you reacted you shake your head to get away from all those thoughts. everybody at your university would likely have the same reaction as you but you're not just anyone, satoru is your dear friend and he deserves more respect than you just gave him. you don't spend long showering, wanting to not use his soap for a long period and you end up not washing your hair.

you dry yourself but panic as you can't find clothes anywhere, did satoru forget? maybe the plan was for you to put your clothes back on until he's gave you them. opening the door ajar you peek outside, you're planning on seeing if you can hear satoru, asking him about the clothes but before you can you see a shirt on the floor next to the door. picking it up, you close the door quickly and breathe deeply, glad that you noticed the shirt before calling out to gojo.

when you start to slip into the shirt you feel a repeat of the shower, it smells so much like him. you didn't realise when you agreed to this you'd have to be concerned about this but you are and it's making you feel guilty. like you're no better than those girls who throw themselves at him, only based on appearances alone. you put it on as quickly as you can and try to ignore the smell but the entire room is filled with it. it smells different to the soap, it smells more like him, 'his natural scent?' you ponder. it effects you differently than it would his fans though, they'd be filled with thoughts that are less than appropriate, like being pushed into his pillow while he's taking them from behind or not wasting time with getting completely nude but to you they're innocent, the smell is comforting like when he surprises you by suddenly grabbing you from behind or crowding your space as you worked on projects together. it's not the smell of satoru gojo, famous 'womaniser', 'manwhore', 'heartbreaker', with a reputation that would make a nymphomaniac blush, it's the smell of satoru gojo- your gojo. and annoyingly your gojo, your friend, smells really good.

satoru was right about the shirt. because of how tall he is it reached down to your thigh, you were slightly worried about accidentally flashing him but it was long enough not to worry too much about it. he was also right about how it clung to you. even though it clung to you it didn't make you feel uncomfortable, the fabric stretched a tad around your hips and chest but it didn't make you feel uneasy, you doubt satoru would even notice. he, of course, does. and takes great pleasure in it.

you fold up the towel and leave it in the laundry basket. exiting the room you hear satoru and go to him. he hears you near him entering the room and looks up from the sofa, "you okay?"

you smile sweetly and nod your head, "i'm okay, it was a good shower."

he returns your smile, "i'm glad."

satoru doesn't hide his staring as you move to the sofa to sit down next to him. you're so cute and you're so hot all he can do is stare and he's so thankful that you agreed to come to his and stay. he's never let anyone wear his clothes before, it's a boundary that he doesn't cross. his previous relationships weren't allowed to wear his clothes, if it was cold outside and someone didn't bring a coat he wouldn't give them his, he never cared about them that much to do things like that but when you walk in wearing his clothes his heart jumps with joy. he never thought about how much he'd love seeing you wear his shirt, it's not just a shirt it's a statement, you're his, he owns you. it barely covers your thighs and he knows if he gets you to move and bend down, even if only slightly, everything will be on display. his shirt is clinging to your curves and he's practically salivating as your hips look so grabbable.

you're none the wiser of this and when he turns on the film you previously spoken about he was paying more attention to you than the television, every so often shuffling a little bit closer to you. he doesn't wait long, it's been about twenty minutes through the film before he puts his arm around you, he slings his arm around your shoulder when you walk together sometimes so it's not the first time this has happened. this is regular behaviour in your eyes.

forgetting his arm is even around you you become invested in what you're watching, you were right to mention it to gojo, it's exceeded your expectations. you have no reaction to satoru taking his arm off your shoulder and instead placing it on your plush thigh. he has more of a reaction that you do, biting his lip to stop any noises that could come out because you would likely notice if he groaned. after a couple of minutes of his hands being still he starts moving, making small patterns on your skin and stroking you. his hand gets higher, reaching the hem of his shirt before stopping and leaving his hand there.

as the film ends you become more aware of where gojo's hand is resting but you choose not to say anything. you're flustered but you think he's put his hand there absentmindedly while watching the film so you keep quiet.

"did you enjoy the film princess?"

you smile brightly at him and respond, "i did! did you?"

satoru starts making patterns on your skin lightly again. tapping his finger on his chin with his other hand like he's thinking and making a noise, "hmmm i did enjoy it although i was distracted through most of it."

that catches your attention wondering what it was that he was focused on instead. "oh, what was it?"

he smirks, "it's hard to pay attention to anything other than how pretty you look right now."

satoru had called you a pretty lady earlier tonight but this feels more personal, your brain refusing to work and it's exhilarating for him to see it happen.

he cups your cheek in his hand so you're making direct eye contact with each other, he doesn't want to look away from him. "do you want this sweetheart?"

your heart is pounding in your chest like a hummingbirds wings and you worry that satoru can hear it, swallowing before replying, "w-what do you mean?"

he leans closer to you and feel like your body is buzzing, tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins at his proximity to you, "do you want me?"

"i-i," you're stuttering over your words and nothing makes sense. do you want him? want him to do what?

"sweetheart do you want me?" he reiterates putting more emphasis on the 'want' and slivering his hand up further along your thigh, inching under your, his, shirt. you wait with bated breath, wondering if he'll go further, wondering if he'll say more.

"satoru are you... are you coming onto me?" you're quiet when you ask, you're unsure, you worry that you're wrong and gojo can't help but laugh.

"obviously i'm coming onto you. i thought that was pretty clear."

"you are?" you're still quiet.

"yeah," he smirks at you however your eyes drift away from him feeling shy but gojo's not having that, he pats your cheek before saying, "look at me princess." you do what he says and make eye contact with him again, "there she is, "he smiles at you and kisses your nose making your whole body heat up, your lips part open in shock and he smirks.

"i'm going to ask again, do you want this?" lowering his voice he continues speaking, "because i want this."

'he wants this. he wants me... but do i want him? everyone wants him. do i want him? if we do this it might never be the same again, we might stop being friends... satoru is really attractive, he's hot, he can get anyone he wants but will this mess everything up... i don't know.'

he can see those unnecessary cogs again, how silly, how useless.

he doesn't wait for you to answer, he's given you time and instead of answering you're thinking, overthinking, not being a good girl at all. instead of waiting any longer he closes the space between you two and slots his mouth against yours, licking your lips in a silent request to open your mouth, you oblige his request without any more thought and just simply do what feels right, do what feels good, and kissing satoru feelings good.

his lips are soft, probably softer than yours but you can't tell with them against each other. imaging the kiss you'd think gojo would kiss someone slowly, languidly. you imagine he wouldn't put a lot of effort or passion in the kiss but it would still be the best kiss anyone has ever had. you never thought he'd be a passionate kisser. you know from rumours that his relationships don't last long, it seems to you that he's never been invested in any of them so what's the point in kissing someone like you can't get enough of them when he's going to move on to the next person in a week, so what's the point of kissing passionately but right now that theory is blown out the window. his movement is rushed, it's hungry, it's unexpected. you didn't think he'd be so greedy. his skilled tongue is against yours and he's completely dominating the kiss. satoru's not even stopping for air and he's not letting you either, he's been waiting for this for so long now and a stupid reason like needing to breathe isn't going to stop him.

satoru's leaving wet kisses down your jaw and pulse point anywhere that's visible he's kissing. leaving little nips in his wake and trying to find a good space for him to start leaving marks and hickeys so everyone will know you're his.

the hand that was holding onto your thigh squeezes gently and a shiver runs down his spine because you feel so soft. he pushes you down on the sofa and he's above you looking down, knocking your thighs open and kneeling between them. he's swears he's never seen a more beautiful sight. you get nervous when you look at him, the way he looks at you tenderly with those vibrant blue eyes, that unbeknownst to you hold so much love for you.

you're gasping at every new sensation gojo's giving you, never having felt like this before as his continues his path up your thigh moving the shirt up along with it and now he's finally touching your plush body he thinks he may be in heaven with a gorgeous goddess with him and the more he moves the shirt up the more he thinks so. both of his hands moving to your hips and pressing his fingers into your skin watching them spill over and it's making him dizzy. never has he felt anyone with your body before and it's driving him crazy. he wants more, he needs more.

satoru brushes his knuckles over your underwear making you whine and he smirks, "feel good princess?"

"uh huh," you reply nodding your head up and down rapidly, head fuzzy and wanting more, wanting him.

"yeah?" he asks smugly. " ' course you do." he taps your hips just above the line of your underwear, "lift up for me sweetheart." you move up so he can pull down your underwear and he pockets them in his jeans saving them for later. he doesn't waste anytime as he unzips his jeans and takes them off, pulling his shirt off after, the only reason of the shirt being off is that he wants you to see how hot he looks and to check him out, he knows he looks good and he wants you to know it too.

he presses two fingers into you and you moan. "i'm going to prepare you sweetheart." it wasn't a question but you nod your head anyway. his slender fingers are longer than yours, reaching placing you can't, he's leisurely taking his time, watching as you squirm, eyes starting to glaze over.

only after four minutes and he's had enough of this leisurely pace fingering though, he just has to have his dick inside you now. he would promise to go slow but he knows he can't promise that. you don't see his dick before he goes into you, if you did you'd say something but instead you feel it. more girth than most and nine inches long thus as he starts to thrust into you you let out a moan that soon fades into a silent scream.

with each inch you feel that it must be it but then there's more, he knows he should've spent more time getting you ready for him but the idea of waiting even a minute longer was torture.

at the same time of being fully inside you, you wince, and satoru places a chaste kiss on your lips. there's a fleeting thought as you wince about how you think his cock has broken you, so far he's in your guts. he keeps his hold on you as he thrusts shallowly a few times testing the waters and playfully pinching your nipple to see your reaction.

you try to speak but the words get caught in your throat and it doesn't take long for gojo to speed up, not even a minute and he's already thrusting hard and fast into you, a creamy white ring already forming at the base of his cock. his pace doesn't falter, in fact it gets more rough as satoru sees your face. it's hard for you to even think, you've never been this full before, you're eyes are glazed over and you've got your mouth open drooling a bit, he thinks you look so adorably dumb. "look at you princess you look so dumb right now, so stupid. you don't even have one thought in your head do you? it's so fucking hot. not thinking or worrying, all that matters is this, you don't need to think i'll do it for you."

satoru lifts up one of your thighs and puts it on his shoulder, at the new position it feels like he's reaching even deeper. you whine so loud that people walking outside would hear. "my cock's making you lose braincells huh?" he grins, tapping your cheek gently to get your attention. you look up at him in a daze and he sniggers. "not a thought behind those eyes."

at the new angle you try to grab hold of his arm but struggle to focus losing grip straight away, squealing, "ah it feels s' good 'toru!"

satoru is pleased that you've spoken something, that you've been able to form an legible sentence, he's even more pleased at how good you sound squealing, knowing that he's the one who's made you sound like that. however more than all of that he's overjoyed that you called him 'toru' it sounds so perfect from your mouth.

"i know, i know, you're so good for me princess, such a good girl." he keeps slamming into you at a brutal pace and he wants you to come undone around him soon before he cums. "hear that princess, your pussy is so wet and sticky for me. she knows what she wants huh," he grins and starts pinching your nipples, watching as your eyes roll back.

he's fucking you so rough that your body is moving up and down on the sofa, jiggling with each thrusts, and as he watches your body bounce he gets closer and closer. he normally lasts so much longer but he can't help it with you, it's impossible for him to keep his regular time when your warm wet walls are wrapping around his cock, when he's inside you.

satoru can't wait any longer removing his hand from your nipple and bringing it to your clit, rubbing harshly as you shriek from the sudden extra stimulation, as you get tighter around him he sucks his teeth so close to cumming, "are you going to cum for me sweetheart?"

you don't say anything, you don't have time to answer him because instead the coil in the stomach that has been winding up for the last half an hour snaps, with the added help of gojo touching your clit, you arch your back, and your eyesight goes fuzzy seeing white dots. you've never had such an intense orgasm before, it drowned out noise and made everything hard to hear, you didn't even know cumming could do that. everyone was right about sex with satoru.

feeling you spasm around him was even for him to finish as well, a few more thrusts into you and he lost it cumming too. if he was a better man he would've pulled out but satoru knew that he would never pull out when it comes to you. he's seen birth control in your bathroom before and when he saw it he frowned, he hopes that you missed it today. either way he's making sure to bury himself in you as deep as he can get hoping that even if you did take birth control today it won't be good enough to stop his intention- his deep desire to breed you. thoughts racing through his head, 'silly girls don't need to go to university they should just stay at home. i've got more than enough money to look after her. she'd look so good, her body even softer than it already is. she'd make such a good mama.' as he comes his body goes taut and he groans loudly saying your name and stilling.

you're both catching your breathe, not speaking for a minute, recovering for the most mindblowing sex both of you have ever had.

he wants to stay where he is but he knows he can't. when he moves you whimper, feeling empty all of a sudden, and it makes his ego rise, "sorry princess, i'm going to get you a towel okay." satoru kisses your forehead before rising and getting a towel from the bathroom, coming back and kneeling, swiping the towel gently over your inner thighs and pussy. kissing your hip and looking back at you, "are you okay?"

you're breathless as you reply, "yeah."

satoru smirks, "that's good."

you cover your face with your hands, timid with the way gojo's focused on you. putting the towel down he holds onto your hands and removes them from your face so he can see you again, smiling at you sweetly and kissing your forehead again.

"satoru what's going to happen now?" you're almost silent, if he wasn't so laser focused on every movement and thing you do he might not have heard.

"we could watch another film but it's getting late."

"no... i mean with us..."

satoru furrows his eyebrows, not understanding the question. "us?"

"yeah i-i mean are we s-still friends?"

"friends?" he looks at you like you've grown an extra head and your stomach sinks, if you knew this would've been the outcome you would've done something differently.

you don't want to lose gojo, you really don't want to lose gojo. you don't want to cry in front of him, you don't want it to get misconstrued and him to think that you're trying to manipulate him or change his mind but the idea of not having satoru in your life is heartbreaking. wait... heartbreaking? however the tears still come and the words get lodged in your throat. you manage to get some words out but it's barely audible with how erratic your breathing is becoming and how you keep swallowing every five seconds. "can i do anything to make us be friends again? i don't want to lose you." you're sniffling and you know you sound needy and probably desperate too but that's not your main focus right now.

"lose me?" he squints and gently wipes the tears from your face. "why would you lose me?" he cups you cheek, "princess how do you feel about me?"

your mouth parts open, you're glad that he's suggesting that you're not going to lose him but that's completely overshadowed with the question he's asked. you stay silent, not moving a muscle, how do you feel about him?

'satoru's my friend, my best friend! so... i feel that he's my friend? did i feel this way about my other friends? i lost my other friends and it was awful, i hated it but if i lost satoru... i think it would be worse than awful. maybe soul crushing is accurate... heartbreaking sounds more accurate. can someone be heartbroken about a friend? can i?'

you can't say anything, you don't know what to say, all your thoughts are muddled and you feel lost. gojo's still cupping your cheek, now stroking it with his thumb. "alright then princess, let me tell you." you don't know how he's going to tell you, you don't even understand yourself. "you don't see me as a friend anymore." he says simply and your eyes widen, and he holds onto your elbow with no force with his other hand to stop you if you try to draw away.

"do you know why i know that princess?" satoru asks you, his voice tethered, borderlining on husky. unsure you shake your head. "because friends don't act like you do. they don't get jealous about the thought of me taking girls out to restaurants, they don't check me out when they think i'm not looking. friends don't make a photo of us together as their lockscreen and wallpaper-"

at that you interrupt him, "you have me on your lockscreen too!" but he puts his fingers to your lips to gesture for you to keep quiet.

"not finished yet sweetheart. friends don't send each other good morning texts as soon as they wake up and they don't memorise my order at cafés we go to. friends don't stare at my lips and compliment my eyes all the time. friends don't look at me longingly. friends don't go to romantic restaurants alone together."

he pauses watching with rapt attention as you look down at your lap, he doesn't make you look up at him this time and waits for your response. when you decide to look back at him you calm your breathing as much as you can, "b-but you do those things too satoru..."

satoru grins brightly, "yeah i do, sooo... that would mean what?" he presses you to answer him.

"do you- do you- am i more than a friend to you satoru?"

"bingo!"

you feel like you're dreaming, nothing feels real. you could never of guessed that gojo feels that way or that you're his type. "is that why we had sex?"

satoru chuckles, not answering but instead replying, "you're so cute!" it makes your face heat up. "do you want me to tell you a secret?" you're nervous and dubious but you nod your head softly. gojo moves even closer than you, "you're more than just my friend princess," he leans closer to your ear and whispers "i love you."

you blink at him- once, twice, three times. you understand now that gojo is more than a friend to you and you recognise it's been this way for a very long time but through all his speech you didn't consider he felt the same. maybe that's why you didn't understand your own feelings, because if gojo acts the same as you do and calls you his friend you never questioned about if you really felt friendship towards him.

how long as satoru known all this and has kept you in the dark? what if he choose not to ever tell you? would you end up in a relationship with someone else only to break their heart when you finally realise that you're in love with satoru. your mouth is dry and you lick your lips swallowing to wet them, your voice still sounds a little hoarse though as you say, "why didn't you tell me?"

"because you'll understand and accept your own feelings and mine. i wanted to tell you but i know you, i knew that you would just deny it and ignore your feelings and it could result in something changing with us and that was the last thing i wanted sweetheart, it would kill me but i knew that it was time. i knew that you'd accept both of our feelings," he asserts and he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat.

you know what he's saying is true but you can't help but pout. "how do you know me better than myself satoru?"

satoru chuckles. well he does spend a great deal of his time loving everything you do...

"plus i couldn't keep it in any longer princess, i swear i was going mad. i would probably have folded soon and tell you," he whines and you giggle.

you take a deep breath and look at him straight in the eye, your whole body feeling fuzzy, "satoru i love you."

'yeah i know.'

gojo grins and wipes his forehead dramatically, "thank god." he holds onto the nape of your neck and pulls you to his lips so he can kiss you hungrily, as he pulls away he asks "do you still want to sleep in the spare room tonight? my room is more comfortable... and there may be some boxes on the bed that i haven't moved."

your eyes widen, "say you're joking 'toru!"

he throws his hands up and grins "well..."

you don't stay mad at him long, you've both confessed your love to each other it's not like you can be annoyed at him, you grin back, "i can't believe you."

"i swear it wasn't planned just a happy coincidence... that i chose not to tell you about... but it's okay because we can just use that room for any of your extra stuff when you move in."

you open your mouth wide in disbelief, "i cannot believe you satoru!"

"aw come on you know you love me!" he chuckles and you glare at him before be pokes your cheek and you start laughing too.

[abysskeeper]

I had to go back and check the transcripts to be sure, but Qrow does say that he was as in the dark regarding Summer's last mission as Tai and Oz were.

So where did that portal go?

Either Qrow at the very least saw Summer that night (and has lived with the regret of not pushing for more information ever since), or Qrow actively knows more than he's said. Or option 3, Raven has another portal we (and thus presumably Tai) don't know about.

Qrow knowing more than he's let on is an interesting potential point of contention...but honestly, now I'm wondering if Raven has/had a portal to someone back in the tribe and this was when the prior Spring Maiden came to her.

I could easily see her going to Summer above anyone else over that information. Summer, who is raising two young girls who can't be that much younger than Spring, who would be inclined to protect her because of that just as much as Raven wanting a failsafe. Summer, who by Raven's own words, was better at that kind of life.

And that of course begs the question...was it coincidental timing? Did Salem and her forces find Spring while Summer was there?

Did Summer Rose trade her life to protect a young girl who couldn't have been much older than her daughters?

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

average United States contains 1000s of pet tigers in backyards" factoid actualy [sic] just statistical error. average person has 0 tigers on property. Activist Georg, who lives the U.S. Capitol & makes up over 10,000 each day, has purposefully been spreading disinformation adn [sic] should not have been counted

I have a big mad today, folks. It's a really frustrating one, because years worth of work has been validated... but the reason for that fucking sucks.

For almost a decade, I've been trying to fact-check the claim that there "are 10,000 to 20,000 pet tigers/big cats in backyards in the United States." I talked to zoo, sanctuary, and private cat people; I looked at legislation, regulation, attack/death/escape incident rates; I read everything I could get my hands on. None of it made sense. None of it lined up. I couldn't find data supporting anything like the population of pet cats being alleged to exist. Some of you might remember the series I published on those findings from 2018 or so under the hashtag #CrouchingTigerHiddenData. I've continued to work on it in the six years since, including publishing a peer reviewed study that counted all the non-pet big cats in the US (because even though they're regulated, apparently nobody bothered to keep track of those either).

I spent years of my life obsessing over that statistic because it was being used to push for new federal legislation that, while well intentioned, contained language that would, and has, created real problems for ethical facilities that have big cats. I wrote a comprehensive - 35 page! - analysis of the issues with the then-current version of the Big Cat Public Safety Act in 2020. When the bill was first introduced to Congress in 2013, a lot of groups promoted it by fear mongering: there's so many pet tigers! they could be hidden around every corner! they could escape and attack you! they could come out of nowhere and eat your children!! Tiger King exposed the masses to the idea of "thousands of abused backyard big cats": as a result the messaging around the bill shifted to being welfare-focused, and the law passed in 2022.

The Big Cat Public Safety Act created a registry, and anyone who owned a private cat and wanted to keep it had to join. If they did, they could keep the animal until it passed, as long as they followed certain strictures (no getting more, no public contact, etc). Don’t register and get caught? Cat is seized and major punishment for you. Registering is therefore highly incentivized. That registry closed in June of 2023, and you can now get that registration data via a Freedom of Information Act request.

Guess how many pet big cats were registered in the whole country?

97.

Not tens of thousands. Not thousands. Not even triple digits. 97.

And that isn't even the right number! Ten USDA licensed facilities registered erroneously. That accounts for 55 of 97 animals. Which leaves us with 42 pet big cats, of all species, in the entire country.

Now, I know that not everyone may have registered. There's probably someone living deep in the woods somewhere with their illegal pet cougar, and there's been at least one random person in Texas arrested for trying to sell a cub since the law passed. But - and here's the big thing - even if there are ten times as many hidden cats than people who registered them - that's nowhere near ten thousand animals. Obviously, I had some questions.

Guess what? Turns out, this is because it was never real. That huge number never had data behind it, wasn't likely to be accurate, and the advocacy groups using that statistic to fearmonger and drive their agenda knew it... and didn't see a problem with that.

Allow me to introduce you to an article published last week.

This article is good. (Full disclose, I'm quoted in it). It's comprehensive and fairly written, and they did their due diligence reporting and fact-checking the piece. They talked to a lot of people on all sides of the story.

But thing that really gets me?

Multiple representatives from major advocacy organizations who worked on the Big Cat Publix Safety Act told the reporter that they knew the statistics they were quoting weren't real. And that they don't care. The end justifies the means, the good guys won over the bad guys, that's just how lobbying works after all. They're so blase about it, it makes my stomach hurt. Let me pull some excerpts from the quotes.

"Whatever the true number, nearly everyone in the debate acknowledges a disparity between the actual census and the figures cited by lawmakers. “The 20,000 number is not real,” said Bill Nimmo, founder of Tigers in America. (...) For his part, Nimmo at Tigers in America sees the exaggerated figure as part of the political process. Prior to the passage of the bill, he said, businesses that exhibited and bred big cats juiced the numbers, too. (...) “I’m not justifying the hyperbolic 20,000,” Nimmo said. “In the world of comparing hyperbole, the good guys won this one.”

"Michelle Sinnott, director and counsel for captive animal law enforcement at the PETA Foundation, emphasized that the law accomplished what it was set out to do. (...) Specific numbers are not what really matter, she said: “Whether there’s one big cat in a private home or whether there’s 10,000 big cats in a private home, the underlying problem of industry is still there.”"

I have no problem with a law ending the private ownership of big cats, and with ending cub petting practices. What I do have a problem with is that these organizations purposefully spread disinformation for years in order to push for it. By their own admission, they repeatedly and intentionally promoted false statistics within Congress. For a decade.

No wonder it never made sense. No wonder no matter where I looked, I couldn't figure out how any of these groups got those numbers, why there was never any data to back any of the claims up, why everything I learned seemed to actively contradict it. It was never real. These people decided the truth didn't matter. They knew they had no proof, couldn't verify their shocking numbers... and they decided that was fine, if it achieved the end they wanted.

So members of the public - probably like you, reading this - and legislators who care about big cats and want to see legislation exist to protect them? They got played, got fed false information through a TV show designed to tug at heartstrings, and it got a law through Congress that's causing real problems for ethical captive big cat management. The 20,000 pet cat number was too sexy - too much of a crisis - for anyone to want to look past it and check that the language of the law wouldn't mess things up up for good zoos and sanctuaries. Whoops! At least the "bad guys" lost, right? (The problems are covered somewhat in the article linked, and I'll go into more details in a future post. You can also read my analysis from 2020, linked up top.)

Now, I know. Something something something facts don't matter this much in our post-truth era, stop caring so much, that's just how politics work, etc. I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not.

Laws that will impact the welfare of living animals must be crafted carefully, thoughtfully, and precisely in order to ensure they achieve their goals without accidental negative impacts. We have a duty of care to ensure that. And in this case, the law also impacts reservoir populations for critically endangered species! We can't get those back if we mess them up. So maybe, just maybe, if legislators hadn't been so focused on all those alleged pet cats, the bill could have been written narrowly and precisely.

But the minutiae of regulatory impacts aren't sexy, and tiger abuse and TV shows about terrible people are. We all got misled, and now we're here, and the animals in good facilities are already paying for it.

I don't have a conclusion. I'm just mad. The public deserves to know the truth about animal legislation they're voting for, and I hope we all call on our legislators in the future to be far more critical of the data they get fed.

[homunculus-argument]

One of the most fun character concepts that I've had that I've never been able to fit into anything is The Most Appropriate Socialite Lady. Nobody dislikes her, but she is, indeed, very Appropriate, always seeming to do everything precisely to social etiquette, even according to social rules that nobody else knew were a thing. If there is a protocol to how to behave or respond in any given situation, no matter how obscure or how long ago it was that this was written down in some Refined Society Etiquette Book, she'll know it. So she is a bit old-fashioned sometimes, but not in a regressive way.

Every time there's a situation where nobody actually knows what the right way to respond would be, they quietly glance at her, because either she knows exactly how to handle this, or if the situation truly is without precedent, her educated guess of what should be done must be the right one. Someone might even write it down for a future etiquette book, of how This Most Polite Well-Mannered Lady responded to this awkward situation.

She doesn't judge people, and is never rude about people breaking Good Manner Rules on purpose (as pointing out someone doing so would be impolite), but the way she seems genuinely surprised and confused whenever someone breaks the protocol that nobody else might even been aware of makes people feel self-conscious or awkward sometimes. And she politely pretends to not notice that. She is very kind, very sweet, but also extremely Appropriate.

So even if this isn't a Victorian style gentlemanly "fine ladies are fragile and must be sheltered from the world"-style society by default, people still feel the need to behave well and be on their best formal behaviour around her, not out of fear of judgement but because she genuinely is that way and nobody wants to upset her. And if someone who doesn't give a shit about protocols upsets her on purpose by deliberately doing something that's fucking rude, they'll be discreetly moved to a different location before getting the shit beat out of them because fuck you for upsetting her.

The thing is, she's actually just autistic as hell. She originally started reading up on social etiquette as a way of masking, but it became a special interest for her, and she isn't just thrilled to teach you how to properly fold a napkin to help you better fit in to the Refined Society, but because she fucking loves infodumping. She's not trying to set herself apart, gatekeep, judge others or show off how she's better than you (like many others of her background would), she just genuinely enjoys having explicitly and clearly written rules and instructions on how to behave in society.

Also the tactful and graceful way in which she doesn't pay notice to veiled insults, or people accidentally saying something insulting to her, isn't always an act. A lot of the time she genuinely just does not notice.

[takes1]

bokuto flirting with inexperienced!reader

nobody asked for this but i can't get this idea out of my head. second time i've written a kuroo's little sister thing and it just seems to read well imo?

warnings. nsfw themes, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / kuroo's little sister!reader / touchy!bokuto / flirty!bokuto / corruption kink!bokuto / virgin!reader / nerdy!reader / kuroo cockblocking / house party / protective kuroo / bokuto being a bad friend / bokuto crushing on you / 2.7k nsfw to follow, reply to be added to taglist

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my request box. part two here. part three here.

"The guys are comin' over at twelve." Tetsurou informed you with a flat tone. He didn't even look up from his phone as he swiped a banana from the counter.

"Don't care."

Your parents were gone on another business trip, meaning this weekend was a free for all. Your version of fun wouldn't sway far from your usual path, staying up, playing games on your laptop after you were done studying for finals; your older brother gravitated towards more social hobbies.

"Sooo, like," He spared a glance to see what you were doing, "Fuckin' scram. Before then."

Papers, handouts, and notebooks littered the breakfast counter. Your laptop played an educational video from one of your classes and you had propped your phone to look at another online text. One highlighter hit the floor a while ago but you hadn't picked it up yet.

When you didn't acknowledge him, completely in the zone, he scrunched up his nose.

"Did you hear me, dumbass?"

"Shuuuut-the-fuck-up-I'm-doooiiing-somethiiing."

In a colored pen, you inked in a corresponding bar from a practice problem so you could visualize the axes.

If you had checked the time, you would know you had maybe ten minutes before twelve to 'scram.'

One could smell the attitude coming off of him from a mile away. Though he didn't say anything to you, it was made crystal clear in the way he sucked his teeth at you and shoved a chair before he walked upstairs.

It wasn't, and would never be, explicitly spoken, but the reason he didn't want you around was because he knew some friends were just too weird around girls. Kenma was the only friend he trusted to be alone in a room with you, and that was because he didn't like anyone. The roster of guys coming over to play some Xbox, play a match in the backyard, drink up your parents' liquor, and sleep over could've been a suspect line if was asked to judge their moral character.

Your slow, neat line of pen for your next graph became a scribbled mess in less than a second as the doorbell started ringing in a slew of rapid presses.

DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING

"Get the door!" You yelled to the stairway, frustration waning only after a nasty sigh.

There was too much to move to your room. You didn't have enough space on your desk for a spread like this, even if you moved every current thing off of it.

Footsteps padded swift back down the steps, not even getting the opportunity to do what he intended to upstairs, and he jabbed a finger at you but you couldn't see.

"Hey!" He shouted. Like he was offended you raised your voice at him to grab the door.

You slammed your palms on the counter and took a breath to yell, just before he called to you from the door, incredibly stern, "Fuck off somewhere else."

"Get the stick out of your ass!" You rolled your eyes and, then and there, decided to not move for anything.

Tetsurou gritted his teeth and pulled open the door, but it didn't nothing to stop Bokuto from pressing the doorbell. Next to him was Akaashi, patiently watching the button-pressing. It was raining, so that meant no practice match; they would have to stay entertained inside.

His big, cheesy grin was hardly a relief, "Hey hey heyy, buddyy!"

"Hey," He said, distracted, thinking about how disastrous this might turn out. He wondered if it was too late to reserve space in the gym, or even cancel.

"Woah-ho-ho," Bokuto giggled at his less-than-enthusiastic greeting and squeezed past him, unwilling to wait outside for any longer, "Don't sound so excited!"

The big, hulking presence stopped in the doorway, hastily removing his wet jacket and shoes. He retold the events of getting here in the rain, sparing Akaashi a few seconds in between to fix his embellished details. He was speaking to Tetsurou at such a volume that you had to search for your earbuds to drown his loud mouth out.

DINGDINGDINGDINGDING--

Maybe all of his stupid friends would ring the bell the same way. Thankfully, he was right there to open it and tell the next two groups to stop.

Soon, your living room was filled with almost all of Nekoma (only a few of which you could recognize from the handful of his games you had attended), and some guys you had never seen before.

It got so loud, so fast.

Your stubborn streak wasn't serving you well. Despite the separation you got from the one wall between you and the entryway, all the sound still poured into the kitchen through the open layout. Your technology wouldn't hold up to how loud a bunch of high school guys could get.

Tetsurou slinked into the kitchen, slow, quiet despite you both staring at each other.

He slid next to you, elbow scrunching one of your precious papers. He had that shitty, low-lidded smirk on his face.

Another boisterous laugh sounded through from the other room and your wince was only proof of your predicament. It sounded like they were fighting, or wrestling, or something that needed to be done outside.

He whispered, "Are you ready to give up?"

"Once you drop dead," You whispered back, clicking your pen ready.

His nostrils flared at your resilience. "You aren't even studying--,"

"Sooo! Where's all that liquor you promised, Kuroo?"

You watched your brother freeze up at the new voice coming into the kitchen. It was genuine distress that flashed across his face for half a second - you wouldn't have had the chance to see it, if he wasn't so up in your business. You turned just in time to watch a guy who didn't go to your school strut in.

"Woah!" He looked straight past your brother, right to you, "Who's thiiis?"

Tetsurou put his hand on your shoulder, something he never did, so you brushed it off as he started, "This is my--,"

"Heyy, Pretty," Bokuto sang just to you, big eyes trailing up, down, and back again, blatantly ignoring his friend.

You laughed at the interaction between them and his nickname for you. He was super hot. It left your brother impatient.

He closed the distance to shake your hand, unable to keep his eyes on just your face.

"This is my little sister," Tetsurou asserted, louder, this time.

The palm on the guy was so huge that you couldn't grip it. His hand could've easily crushed yours but he chose to shake it gently, then held it with both hands when he closed more distance.

"Hmm," He chuckled, "Hey, little sister. My name's Bokuto, but you can call me Ace."

You told him your name in an enamored giggle- biting your lip when he cupped his ear to hear it again, so you repeated it, surely less intelligible.

"(Y/n)?" He asked, jovial, like he was trying to make you keep laughing. He succeeded, "That's nice, but I like Pretty better."

Tetsurou moved himself between you, not a big enough presence to make Bokuto stop touching you or talking in the slightest.

"It suits you, yeah?"

Your brother cleared his throat so loud that it sounded cartoonish. Your fingers slipped from his hand, despite his attempts to keep them all to himself, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking down and away. His anger was tangible.

Tetsurou stepped in front of you and faced him. They went just outside of the open doorway. It left you to clean up your papers, laptop, pens, highlighters, books. He muttered many things, but you only caught:

"You serious?" Met with: "Relax, dude!"

"Do I need to worry about you the whole fucking weekend, bro?" Answered with: "Obviously not!"

"This is a line. Don't- don't cross it." Satisfied with: "Have some faith in me, bud, come on."

His friend drama wasn't your problem, but it was oh-so-entertaining to listen to. You fixed up your belongings very slowly so that when they came back, you didn't look so suspicious.

To your dismay, only Tetsurou came back in. He squinted at your gathered things.

"Good. Go upstairs," He said, so simple, with half of his attention on you, half on his friends horsing around in the living room, as if it was normal- as if you had ever tolerated him speaking to you like that before.

You threw a pen at his face, laughing loud with pure delight when it left a streak on his jaw. You had incidentally left it open.

There were few times you had seen him so indelibly angry.

The speed at which he nabbed the pen off of the the floor and hurled it back at you was worthy of a world-record. You only managed to dodge it because you knew what he was going to do before he did.

It shattered on the cupboard, ink exploding all over the floor, staining the counter.

There was almost no time to make a smartass comment, because as soon as you conjured one and inhaled to say it, something crashed in the living room. It sounded eerily mother's-favorite-vase-like.

He was teeming with contempt.

You didn't say anything back when he held his hand up, silently forbidding you from following him to investigate the now-silent room.

It was all his fault, when you thought about it. He dug his grave, since he decided on his own to have all of his rowdy friends over. It wasn't on you that he broke a pen, his friends broke a vase, and his best friend was so sweet to you in the first thirty minutes of the weekend starting.

While you could have left the mess for him to clean up, you didn't want to go upstairs just yet. Once you did, you'd have to justify coming back down. So, you pulled out some cleaning supplies under the sink and started picking up the little sharp plastic pieces of pen.

"Woah, what happened in here?"

You perked right up at the voice, somehow embarrassed to be found like this.

Bokuto threw a look over his shoulder before he fully came in. When he decided to enter, a big smile took up his whole face, making all his handsome features super friendly-looking.

He wasted no time sliding over the tile to squat next to you and inspect the damage.

"Tetsurou threw a pen," You said, quiet, avoiding his attentive stare.

He shook his head, disapproving, and started collecting the pieces with you. He gladly took your hand in his so he could place them in your palm. It was so unnecessary, but it made you giggle again.

"You like studying?" His head dipped to see more of your face, eyes bouncing around to take in all of your features.

It made you shy away and stand to throw the pieces out. But he followed just to watch you, amused at your mannerisms.

"Not really-," You squeezed past him, beginning to spray at and wipe off the ink, sparing a glance to your stuff on the counter, "I mean, there is something nice about it- but,"

Bokuto was too entranced by your lips to properly listen to you ramble. He glanced up to your eyes only on occasion, otherwise sporting an intense stare at your cute mouth, or the way you used your already busy hands when you spoke.

Soon you had told him too much, and there was no ink to clean up anymore, so you returned to sit on the stool next to the counter.

"I didn't know Kuroo had a sister," He sighed.

He chose not to sit, but to stand over you, just so that you had no option but to look up at him.

"Especially not one so cute," His knuckle grazed your warm cheek as you smiled at the floor, "God, you really are such a cutie, huh? You got a boyfriend?"

Your body braced at his touch. He took a step forward, one hand on the counter behind you.

"Mm-mm," You tried to meet his eyes, but it was impossible.

Staring at his body wasn't a bad deal, though. His shirt fit him nice and tight at the shoulders, then loosened, a little flowy at his waist thanks to his impressive build.

"That's good," His fingers dipped to your chin, gently bringing your face to look at him.

This you could only stand for a moment or two. You pushed his forearm down so he would stop touching your face, making you look this way and that.

He sighed, keeping his arm near you in case you wanted to keep your hands on him, but once he understood it wouldn't happen, he put it on the other side of you.

"I've- never had a boyfriend," You admitted, breathless at the pressure of such proximity.

It was mostly as a way to excuse your bashfulness, in partial hopes that he didn't take your hesitation as a sign of rejection.

You loved the attention. It was difficult to keep up with, but it didn't mean that you didn't want it.

His knuckles were white against the counter behind your back. His breath shallowed out. He had a hard time catching it, left recovering from the carnal reaction to such a perfect opportunity sitting before him.

All he heard was the chance to be unrivaled- a white knight of the bedroom, in a sense. To drag out that cute, adoring look on your face for as long as it took to break you in. His jaw tensed, his friendly smile faltering at the thought of what he could show you, teach you, be the very first to do to you.

He grinned, "No wonder he wants to keep you locked up, then."

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

reply to be added for future parts!

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Falling Into Me

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Smut (p in v, fingering, oral f receiving), angst, loss of virginity, light fluff, feelings :(, real bad self-image issues

Summary/Warnings: You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you.

You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.

Author's Note: This might be the horniest thing I've ever written. Enjoy <3!

Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan

Word Count: 8.9k

You haven’t slept in three days, and it’s starting to be a problem. But you can’t afford to sleep. You can only drink staler and staler coffee, sit at the motel table, and pretend this is a case that, somehow, you’re going to solve. That Dean isn’t grumpier than usual, and Sam doesn’t constantly look like he’s going to kill the next person that dares to have an incorrect idea. It’s why you volunteered for the next round of interviews. You don’t want to be there when one of them snaps and kills the other, and while you wouldn’t love to return to the room and find it covered in blood, at least then you’d have an excuse to call it.

You wouldn’t call it. You’d work the case until it was done, because that’s what you do. And Sam and Dean won’t kill each other, because they’re Sam and Dean. That said, you are expecting a pouting Dean to pacing back and forth outside the room as he waits for you to return, and a grumble about how Sammy said he was being annoying and needed to walk it off. You’re more than prepared to give him a sympathetic smile and ask him if he was being annoying. And he’ll probably protest that he wasn’t, and you’ll raise your brows, and he’ll admit he mighta been drumming really loud while eating the chips.

It’s not an unreasonable expectation. None of you have slept, because this thing is insane. There’s no obvious pattern to the victims, no connections, nothing in line with everything you’ve ever seen. It’s men and woman, a wide age range, no previous coflicts or knowledge of each other in life. There are holes through theirs chests that could be bullet wounds, but obviously aren’t, because Bullets don’t remove the heart from the body. But it’s not werewolves, because werewolves aren’t clean killers like this and every fucking person in this stupid town has passed the silver test. There’s a new kill every night, and a new body every morning, and another reason for you, Sam, and Dean to start screaming every day. Every hour makes you all wired, because it’s closer and closer to another evening where you won’t have caught this asshole and another person will die.

And it’s become really easy to get on each other’s nerves. Sam was mad at Dean because he’d purposefully gotten you all burgers instead of Sam’s rabbit food, you’re mad at Sam because he said you were bad at poker—and you are, but what the fuck—and Dean’s mad at you because-

Dean’s not mad at you. You and Dean don’t really get mad at each other. You understand each other, better than you’ve ever understood anyone else, and it’s the perfect amount of alike that you’ll lend him grace you wouldn’t lend anyone else—including yourself—but you don’t see enough of your own twisting, molding innards to hate him. You mostly see something better. A man that has all the same rotting parts, but has made something out of them while you just waste away in toxins.

And you think Dean sees something similar in you. It’s why you’d been obnoxiously chewing potato chips, right in his ear, and he hadn’t punched you or snatched the bag away from your hands. He’d just rolled his eyes, grabbed one of his own, and started chewing in Sam’s ear.

So you hadn’t really volunteered for interviews so much as been aggressively told by Sam you were doing interviews. And it was only fair Dean met the same fate.

But he hadn’t. And when you opened the door to the room, they both looked happy. 

Dean practically shouts your name when he sees you, wildly gesturing for you to join them at the table. “Sammy found it!” He grins at you almost manically, and it’s a little adorable. “We can finally fucking leave.”

“I might have found it,” Sam corrects, his smile a little more tentative, but still real. “And we can’t leave yet. Not until we actually get the thing-“

“Obviously, dude, but that’ll be soon, instead of in a million years.” Dean looks to you for agreement. “I mean, c’mon. You guys can’t really wanna stay in hicktown Ohio forever?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Good coffee.”

Dean glares at you. “The coffee tastes like ass and you freakin’ know it-“

“Dean.” You give him a flat look. “Do I actually get to know what the monster is?”

Sam sighs. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I already don’t love it, it’s a monster that’s killed like, ten people-“

“Worse than that.” Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “It’s sorta like a dragon.”

You, very suddenly, don’t feel really well. Everything is hotter than it had been a second ago, and the walls seem to be closing in as your skin begins to prickle and ache. “Like a dragon?” You ask, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Or a dragon?”

“Like a dragon. Tell her, Sammy.”

Sam shoots Dean a glare—not happy being thrown under the bus—and mutters, “It’s a unicorn.”

You stare at him for a long minute, then shake your head. “It’s a what.”

“Unicorn.” Sam mumbles. “They’re, uh, looks like they’re real.”

“But not Pinky Pie and Disney.” Dean adds, turning Sam’s laptop for you to read. “Real fucking assholes.”

“They hunt virgins.” Sam explains. “To bond with. And it’ll kill anyone who falsely lures it.”

“Stab the poor son of a bitch right through the heart, then pull that sucker right out.” Dean adds, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. “And it looks like it’ll go after chicks and dudes, any age, so that’s why there’s no pattern. You’re able to fuck, you’re fair game.”

“Oh, cool.” You mutter, a lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m always looking for equal opportunity murderers in the monsters I hunt.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna make it a little harder to find the thing.” Sam grabs his laptop back, frowning at the screen. “It’ll take a human form, then look for a virgin. And it won’t be able to tell until it gets the person’s heartbeat up, so it might be a guy or a girl, depending on who it’s hunting tonight.”

“But,” you glance at Dean, who’s grinning as you start to put it together. “It is hunting tonight.”

“Hunts every night.” Dean says, rubbing his hands together. “And we don’t know where, but we can take some guesses. Split up and look at all the bars in town ’till one of us finds something, then gank this douchebag and get the hell out of here.”

“Split up?” You whisper, something wired and flailing coiling around your guts. “That’s, um, shouldn’t we stick together? If it’ll go after anyone?”

“Not everyone.” Same shrugs. “Low, uh, body counts. I guess. Low enough that it can’t tell immediately.”

“So we just need a bunch of whores?"

Dean snorts. “Well tonight,” he spreads his arms, shooting you a wink that really isn’t helpful right now. “We’re the whores, Sweetheart. We’re safe, and we’re going to kick some unicorn ass.”

It’s a cheesy, stupid thing to say, and usually you’d laugh and crack a joke back. Something about unicorn ass and whores that you can’t really think of right now, because there’s bile in your throat and something heavy fogging over your brain.

“How do we, uh,” your tongue is numb in your mouth, and every word is dragged out of your throat. “How do we kick a unicorn’s ass.”

“Well, we’re looking for electrical malfunctions, golden eyes when it gets, uh, excited, and a refusal to drink anything but water.” Sam frowns at the screen, looking up at you with a half-shrug. “Anything amoral seems to knock it down, so just, uh, swear? Then shoot it with iron. Iron kills it.”

“And, um,” you swallow, tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. “What’s gonna to the virgin? If the unicorn finds it?”

Sam sighs. “They, uh, they seem to use them.”

Dean frowns, leaning around to try and read the screen. “Use them-“ 

“Their purity. Use their purity.” Sam raises his brows, and you can see the exact moment it clicks in Dean’s head. 

“That’s...” Dean trails off, running a hand over his face. “Shit.” 

Sam mutters an agreement, and your mouth feels like sandpaper, your heart beating like it’s trying to escape your chest.

“And after?” You whisper, a little unsure you want to actually ask the question, or know the answer. “After they’re used?” 

“Well, they’re not ‘pure’ anymore.” Sam puts an air quote around pure, and you feel a little sick. “So, uh, stab.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly. You might need to lie down. “Stab.”

Dean looks over you with a drawn brow, his voice low and cautious as he says your name. “Are feelin’ okay-“

“I’m fine.” You remember how to smile, and hope it looks real. Not like your teeth are starting to feel out of place in your mouth, and you can’t seem to find enough spit to choke on. “Let’s get the unicorn ass.”

Dean doesn’t look convinced. Hell, Sam doesn’t look convinced. But they both let it go for now, and you can breathe just a little easier knowing you’re not barreling towards a fight.

But only a little easier. 

Because you’re fucked.

Virginity is a funny thing. It’s just a social construct, but it’s a social construct some monsters seem to take as scripture, making it a hazardous thing to still have in your line of work. 

And you hadn’t meant to be a hazard. It just kind of happened. Because it started as something that was a given to have, then turned into something that you just were a little too busy to lose, before becoming an awkward conversation you’re not willing to have. Something that hangs, silent and sharp, over your head and around your throat. Something that’s now a question of why? Why is it never you? You’re not ugly. You’re even pretty enough that, if you tell someone, they won’t believe you and it’ll all feel worse. You’re even pretty enough that you’ve seen people size you up at bars, but none of them ever approach you.

So it might just be you. You might just have something on your face that gives away that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, a little too rough to touch and not have it sting, telling people stay away. 

And Sam and Dean will never know. You’re already a little younger, a little worse of a hunter, a small problem when they’re obviously trying to take someone to their bed but the girl sees you and makes quick and inaccurate assumptions. Sam is better at brushing them off—She’s like my little sister—but Dean gets red and awkward and suddenly loses all his well-practiced charm. He sulks back to the table, and won’t look you in the eyes for an hour or walk with you back to the bar. You’re honestly shocked neither of them have thrown you to the curb by now, an you’re not going to give them another reason to. Another reason for Sam to make a sad, puppy-eyed pity face and Dean to stare at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like there’s no way someone could’ve possibility survived as a hunter like this. 

And a small, well-contained part of you wishes Dean would look at you the way he looks at other women. Like they still have beautiful, horrible secrets that he’d love to uncover with only his hands and mouth. 

You’ve got secrets. Dean can’t have them—because they’re a liability and you’re not looking to lose him forever—but you really wish he’d just look at you. Once, really look at you, and not see you. See something so much better, that you think he’s always a little close to finding, that nobody else ever seems willing to try and look for.

You’re a little grateful they left you alone in this backwater dive bar. It would hurt to watch Dean flirt right now, when everything feels raw and wired in your body, and every time someone drops next to you at the bar you feel more and more sick. There are quick, polite conversations with random strangers who sound like they’d rather be anywhere than here, with you, and by the time you’ve repeated your cover story for the eighth time your lungs are wrapped iron and your nails feel like a burden on your fingers.

It’ll be over by tonight. All three of you know what you’re looking for, so the unicorn will be dead before sunrise, and you won’t have to do any explanations about why you’ve been quiet and tense since Dean said like a dragon. Nobody will look at you with pity or confusion, nobody will get hurt, and you won’t end up with a hole in your heart as the only people that have ever seen you to be worth something realize just how wrong they were. That you’re really just a small, useless burden that even a literal monster wouldn’t be able to stomach the presence of-

“You here all by yourself?”

Something sparks in your gut at the voice, coming from off to the side, because for a second you really think it’s Dean. It’s deep, moves through your whole body, and knocks loose something in your lower gut that always makes you feel hungry, but it’s not Dean. When you turn, the man next to you looks like someone ran Dean through a printer too many times and he came out faded. A little too short, not quite as broad, all the pretty scars that make Dean Dean seemingly vanished, and a gleam in his eyes that Dean’s never had. It’s a little more feral, without any playfulness or glowing shadows. Too much yellow instead of green, the cocky smirk just a little off, none of it right. None of it Dean.

“I’m, um,” you frown, because this man even smells like Dean. “I’m waiting for a friend. He’s running late.”

Not-Dean clicks his tongue. “Shame, leaving a pretty girl like you all alone. You want some company until your boyfriend shows up?”

You shake your head, turning your glass around in your hand. “Not my boyfriend. And I’m actually…” You trail off, your eyes falling on the man’s own glass. The clear liquid inside. “You drinking vodka?”

“Am I- Oh, sure.” The man chuckles, raising his drink for you to click. “Here’s to not-boyfriends-“

“Can I have some?”

You watch the man carefully as he looks between you and the glass. “Nah, sweetie, you don’t want this, it’s some strong stuff-“

Sweetie. Not sweetheart. Not Dean, not right, not safe. And something is starting to crawl over your skin and shoot up your spine, making you sit a little taller as your heart pounds louder and louder. 

As Not-Dean licks his lips, and scans over you with yellow eyes that might be shining. 

Fuck.

“I, um, I’m gonna go call my friend.” You start to shift off your seat, pulling your phone slowly out of your pocket. “He should’ve been here a few minutes ago, and I’m worried-“

“C’mon, you haven’t even told me your name.” Not-Dean wiggles his brows, and it looks wrong on his face. “Bet I can guess, if you give me a hint-“

“No, it’s fine, my name is, uh…” you look down at your phone, the screen completely black. You’d charged it before you left.

“Your name?” Not-Dean prompts, grabbing your arm. Holding you near him, at the bar. “I’d really love to learn it. I could teach you a few things in exchange-“

“I was never given a name!” Your voice is a frantic shout, Not-Dean’s eyes narrow, and you do the only thing you can think of. Punch Not-Dean square in the face, yank your arm from his grip, and run. Fucking sprint out of the bar and not allow yourself to falter as you hear a roar that’s a little hoarse and off pitched. Like a horse keen. Like a wounded animal.

Like a monster.

Splitting up had been a terrible fucking idea. Now you’re alone, you don’t have even an idea where Sam and Dean are, and you can’t afford to stop and jack a car because you can hear it in the distance. Hooves, clapping against the pavement, getting closer and closer as you begin to run out of breath. You can’t hide, it can hear you, and you can’t go faster because you already feel faint and everything is beginning to collapse in your body. Muscles tightening and skin crawling and eyes pushing out of your skull, every breath too shallow and every step too short. 

You fall to your knees behind a truck, wrapping a hand around your own throat and trying to force your heartbeat back down. Slow, even breathes that come out in choked gasps, nails digging into your skin as the hooves slow, and you hear a low sputtering sound from somewhere behind you. 

And it’s too quiet. You can’t hear anything but your blood in your ears, and all you can see in the night is the flickering yellow light of a streetlamp in the distance. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow every breath, hoping you can force yourself out before the unicorn finds you. You don’t want to be used. You don’t want to be alone. You just want Dean, where’s Dean, why the fuck did you let him leave you alone, why didn’t you tell him the truth, why can’t you think of anything else but Dean, where’s Dean-

There’s something hot on your neck, and a large presence at your side. Something like spit is being splattered on your neck, and you can’t contain the vomit when a too-rough hand trails up your arm-

“Get the fuck back, you son of a bitch!”

A loud bang cuts through the air—making you jump out of your skin as a heavy body slumps onto yours—and it sounds like church bells and music. It sounds like Dean. That’s his voice shouting your name, his arms wrapping around your body and carrying you away from the unicorn, his breath fanning over your face as he sits you on the curb and starts to turn your face in his hands.

“Fuck, never should’ve left you, but I didn’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a huff, and you think he’s talking to himself more than you. “Did the asshole touch you anywhere I can’t see?”

You shake your head, keeping your eye glued shut as you curl your hands in Dean’s shirt. Maybe Dean’s shirt. Not-Dean had been wearing plaid too, and you don’t have the nerve or will to open your eyes and seen if it’s your Dean, or the cheap unicorn knockoff.

“Shit, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Sam’s on his way, but we gotta get you out of here-“

“Didn’t touch me.” You whisper, fighting every urge into your body to curl forwards and start sobbing weak and pointless apologies. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay? You think, fuck-“ Dean’s arm—bigger, warmer, maybe actual Dean—loops around your waist, his voice a little closer to your ear. “Need you to hold onto me, got it? We’re goin’ back to the car, and you gotta, fuck, can you open your damn eyes?”

They fly open, almost on command, and it’s Dean. The smell of whiskey is stronger, more authentic, and his face is sharp in all the right places, and it’s really Dean. 

And he looks pissed. His touch on your body is careful, and his eyes are attentive and sparked with worry, but his jaw is clenched, and his every word is suddenly pushed through his teeth.

“You’re gonna hold onto me.” He orders, holding your wide-eyed gaze with a glower. “I’ll take a better look at you when we get back to the room-“

“Dean, I’m fine-“

“And,” Dean barrels on, as if he didn’t even hear you. “We’re going to have a chat. You’re, I can’t-” he shakes his head scooping you fully into his arms. “Just hold on.”

He sounds pissed. Dean’s rigid and silent the whole ride back to the hotel, his grip white-knuckled and tight on the wheel, and you feel even worse than before. This is it. He had to save you, and he’s going to learn why he had to save you, and he might not kick you out but he won’t look at you the same again. No more ease or awe or comfort or understanding, because Dean’s rotten in places where the mold can be burned away with every good part of him, but you’re just rotten. Just a hideous thing that roars in your chest, just angry and cowardlyand revolting and wrong. You’re just wrong. 

All the panic and paralyzing adrenaline had left your body, so you push yourself out of the Impala on unsteady feet. Dean mutters something about Sam dealing with all the cleanup as he opens to motel room door, watching you shuffle inside with clenched fists and an unreadable expression. You flop onto the bed with a small whine, your body beginning to drown in exhaustion, your gaze locked on the peeling paint of the ceiling as Dean moves around the room out of your view.

“Why’d you come back?” You ask, your voice hoarse and weak, and Dean lets out a long, low exhale from somewhere off to the side.

“You were actin’ really weird.” He grunts. “Didn’t sound like yourself. Weren’t laughing at my jokes, or making fun of Sam. Looked sick every time one of us said stab.”

“I could’ve just been-“

“Don’t.” He snaps, and you crane your neck to see him at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and looking at you. Dean seems to be really looking at you, all of you, and you suddenly really wish he would stop. You’re complete exposed below him, under his glare, and he’s going to see something he hates. Something you don’t have a name for that you’ve never wanted him to see, never wanted him to find. The thing that makes everyone else look away.

But Dean’s attention is like a drug, and you need him to stop before you lose him, but you also never want him to stop watching you. It’s confusing and raw and makes you feel like a live wire, one word or touch or stare away from snapping and bursting into a million sparks.

And Dean’s still looking at you. 

“I didn’t,” you swallow, his eyes like a magnet on yours. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice lower. Harsher. “You’re not injured.”

You shake your head.

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Dean, I-“

“I’m asking the questions.” Dean leers over you slightly, and you nod again. “Why the fuck did that unicorn seem like it was hunting you.”

He knows the answer. His whole face is already painted in anger, and you know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Because it was hunting me.”

“Unicorns only hunt virgins.” Dean grunts your name, still not looking away. “You’re not-“

“I am.” You mumble, folding your arms over your own body as you drop back down onto the mattress. “Sorry.”

“Why would you say, fuck- Why in goddamn hell wouldn’t you tell me and Sam-“

“Tell you and Sam what?” You scowl at the ceiling. “That I’m untouched? Pure? Boring-“

“That you’d be in danger!” Dean all but roars, and you don’t flinch, but you do cringe. All the mold in your body feels as if it’s spreading like cancer, because Dean would never hurt you with his hands, but he might be about to curb stomp your heart with only his mouth. “I don’t give a shit about the virgin thing, I care that you were so fucking stupid to go off alone, that you didn’t trust me enough-“

“It’s not about trust, Dean,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. “And it’s not like you tell me everything-“

“I do! I’ve told you about all the shit in my past, and my fear of flying, and Rhonda Hurley, and that weird freaking dream I had with the mice in top hats-“

“That’s not the same!” You’re pushing back up on your palms, raising your voice to match Dean’s. You just need him to stop yelling at you, to rip the band-aid off and finally give up on you so you can rest. “This isn’t your business-“

“It’s my business if it’s gonna get you fucking killed, Sweetheart. And I coulda helped you-“

“Helped me?” You scoff. “I don’t need your help with this, Winchester, I’ve come to terms with it-“

There was a brief moment where Dean had looked like you’d kicked him, but it vanishes in a second as he gapes at you in disbelief. “To terms with virginity?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, holding his suddenly slack expression with your own glare. “Nobody wants me, it’s not a big deal-“ 

Dean snorts. “There’s no damn way you’re that stupid-“ 

“I am not stupid-“ 

“Yeah? Cause you’re a fucking idiot if you think nobody wants you.”

It’s your turn to gape at him. Your heart stumbles slightly in your chest, your fingers curling into bedsheets, and the world begins to spin as you try and understand his words. “What?”

“You,” Dean takes a firm step forward, drawing your name. “Are a fucking idiot if you think that there’s not one damn person on the planet who wants you.” 

“But-“

“Nah. No freakin’ buts.” He’s closer now, his knees bumping yours as he glowers down at you. “I’ve watched too many hair-gelled losers at bars size you up like they wanna take a bite for you to have buts. Hell, I’ve-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Shit, there’s just, there’s no way-“

Your face twists back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you believe me-“

“Oh, I believe you, Sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as a low groan leaves his chest, rolling through the air and settling between your legs in an aching heat. “And I finally fucking get it. You just, you have no idea. I thought you just didn’t want it, but you’re just- Shit-“

“Dean,” your voice is soft, a little breathless, and can’t help but rub your thighs together as his hands start to flex at his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I know,” he mutters, scanning over your body with an almost predatory expression. “I’m not, I just gotta,” his gaze flies back to yours, his voice suddenly stern. “Sam tell you how the unicorn choses its form?”

You blink. “Wha-“

“It takes the form that will be most appealing to the target. To help the asshole get attention quickly. That unicorn,” his voice drop, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and it takes all the will you have to not start fall back into in the sheets. “Looked kinda like me.”

“I, um, I don’t-“

“Do you want me?” Dean grunts your name, and you make the mistake of dropping your gaze down, to his pants. To where an impressive outline is straining against his jeans. 

“I’d, I mean, I’m not-“ You swallow, everything a dizzying haze of Dean. “Yeah, I think, but you’re not-“

“I’m not what?” He growls, kneeling down to your eye level, trailing a slow hand up your thigh. “Not interested?”

 “Yeah?”

“Wrong.” Dean’s hand moves higher, trailing closer and closer to your center before running back down to your knee. “So incredibly wrong, Sweetheart. I’ve wanted you since, fuck, since I first saw ya’. But you didn’t seem to want me, so I backed off, but if you just didn’t-“ He pauses, his brilliant green eyes suddenly tearing into your soul, unraveling you before he’s even touched bare skin. “Do you? Want me?”

“I already said-“

“You said yeah.” He mutters, rubbing his hand is a slow pattern on your knee. “Need you to say the full thing, before I do anything else.”

Dean’s face is suddenly softer, with something that aches and tugs on your own heart shining through his eyes, and you couldn’t lie to him if you tried. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Dean. It feels cruel, and wrong, and as if you’d be denying yourself something so good and rare it will never be replicated if you walk away now. 

“I want you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted you. But I’m not, it’s not going to be good for you. I mean, I know how to take care of that,” you point to the bulge in his pants, pressed slightly against your calf as he crouches before you, and Dean frowns. “But I’ve never, um, you know-“

“You’re not takin’ care of anything.” He says, scanning over your open face with drawn brows. “We’re doing this, it’s gonna be about you.”

“Oh.” There’s a little drool falling out of your mouth, Dean reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, and your voice becomes a squeak. “Okay.”

“If you really wanna,” his mouth curves into a smirk, and you need it on yours now. “Next time, I’ll let you go to town on Little Dean.”

You can’t stop the small giggle escaping your lips, and it turns into a full laugh as Dean’s own grin grows, and nothing really feels that bad anymore. “Little Dean?”

“Compared to the rest of me, yeah.” Dean does a loose gesture at his broad, strong body, his grin growing cocky. Hungry. Starved. “But trust me, gorgeous. Ain’t nothing little about him.”

Your eyes widen, your thighs rubbing together as the need for him becomes almost unbearable, and Dean lets out a deep, low chuckle. 

“You want me, babygirl?”

You nod, and Dean’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his hand on your leg. 

“Need you to say it-“

“Yeah.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

A grin splits over Dean’s handsome face, and his hand drifts to your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours as he drawls your name. “I’m gonna need to get you ready, so just,” he pushes you slightly, and you fall flat on your back, moving your own hands to hold his against you. “Stay there, look pretty, and let me work.”

You nod, your vision already a little blurred with desire as you stare at the ceiling. Dean draws back, shuffling around at the edge of the bed, and you look up to see his shirt gone. It’s all warm, slightly golden and freckled skin, strong and soft in all the right places. His muscles flex as he takes a long, deep breath, and big, calloused hands lowering to trace over your midriff, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What’d I say about stayin’ there-“

“I, um,” you gasp a little as his hand slips under your shirt, bunching the material and starting to slowly pull it over your chest. “I’ve done other stuff. Just so you know. And I’ve done things to myself-“

“I bet you have,” Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you carefully against him as he helps you out of your clothing. “Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you, touch you, fucking ruin you-“

You let out a high, needy moan, burying your face in his neck and mumbling against his skin. “Please, Dean, just-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as his free hand slips into your pants, cupping your pussy over the fabric of your underwear and rubbing back and forth so torturously slow you might fly out of your skin.

“So wet for me already,” he grunts, tugging on your hair until you lean back, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

You’re not sure what you need to be ready for, but as long as it’s Dean doing it, you’re good. You nod, wrapping your arm around his neck in silent affirmation, and Dean pulls back to pop open the button of your jeans with a single hand, offering himself easier access.

Two broad fingers toy with the hem of your panties, Dean’s eyes almost glittering as his attention falls to where he’s touching you. Watching your body shiver when he glides his thumb over your clothed slit, your hips jerk when he presses down on your clit, your legs stretch as wide as they can when he starts to rub small circles against you.

“Dean,” you whine, your free hand moving to cup his jaw, trying to move his gaze back to yours. “Please, shit-“

“That feel good, babygirl?” Dean starts to quicken his movements, adding small, teasing flicks and pinches that make your eyes roll back in your head. “You like me teasin’ you? Playin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy until you’re soaked- Fuck-“

You start to grind on Dean’s hand, trying to chase relief while showing him that he didn’t need to play with or tease you. He has you, unraveled on his fingers and desperate for more of him, all of him, whatever he can offer you that will feel like this-

“Shit, you’re dripping.” Dean’s movement on your clit still as he drags his thumb down, resting right over your aching, already sensitive cunt, and pressing into you just enough to make you whimper. “I gotta taste you, Sweetheart, c’mon.”

His gaze shoots back to yours, something a little animalistic in his low, hoarse voice that almost makes you cum on the spot. “Need you hold on, pretty girl, we’re gonna get you out’a these.”

You nod, letting Dean lay you back down on the mattress, lifting your hips as he drags your jeans off your body, taking your underwear with them. Leaving to totally, completely naked on the bed. Vulnerable, entirely at his mercy, with not another place you’d wish to be in the world.

Dean crawls slightly over you, one of his hands tracing up your stomach, palming at your breasts, then rolling your nipple between two, rough, expert fingers. You gasp, arching slightly off the bed, and a low, deep groan rolls from Dean’s chest.

“Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You’re,” Dean cuts himself off, dropping his mouth to your other breast and latching plump, slightly chapped lips around your nipple. Your vision starts to line with light that might be angels coming to take you away, because this has to be heaven. This is better than heaven. Heaven wouldn’t allow such sinful things as Dean groaning against your skin, his boner pressing into your thigh, or his hand kneading at your ass. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. This feels like everything, and blissfully nothing, and mostly just Dean.

You must have moaned his name, because he crashes up, fisting a hand in your hair as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. All teeth and spit and burning need. Dean tastes like coffee and whiskey and syrup and fruit when he shoves his tongue down your throat, and he smells like gunpowder and leather as his weight hold you easily down, and his lips are so soft but so demanding as he practically devours you, and you’re high. He’s not even inside you yet and you’ll never have enough. This isn’t more than what you’ve done before, but Dean’s ruined you with just teasing touches and wet, starved kisses, and you’re starting to worry you might ascend when he actually fucks you.

He starts to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, down your neck, and between your breasts. It’s heavy and wanting, but still so carefully coordinated. Every move Dean makes seems to be calculated, because he nips at your collarbone right as he tugs on your hair, and the sound that leaves you is high and undignified and exactly what he wanted. His chuckle rumbles in his chest—now pressed against your stomach—and all you can do is moan as he continues his perfect torture. Licking one nipple as he pinches the other, dragging two fingers through your folds as he kisses down the plane of your stomach, stopping right at the apex of your thighs with glittering eyes and firm hands, slowly guiding your legs open.

“Shit.” He mutters, warm breath right over your pussy, making your hips jerk slightly. “Goddamn, baby, you’re responsive.“ A wide, smug grin overtakes Dean’s face as he pushes one finger into your pussy, and you squeak. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growls your name, and starts to pump that finger in and out, the pace so slow and almost painfully good. “God, you have fucking idea how long- How bad-“ Dean groans as you squeeze around him, and adds another finger. “You’re making such pretty sounds, babygirl, better than I ever imagined. Shit, you’re sexier than a fucking dream.”

His eyes drift back to yours, and shiver goes up your spine from how Dean’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Watching your writhe in the sheets and plead for him in weak gasps, watching you at your most vulnerable state, and grinning like he loves what he sees. Like he’s never seen anything better.

“Dean,” you gasp as his fingers pick up speed, starting to scissor inside your dripping cunt, bumping against a tender spot inside of you that seems to sing under his touch. “Oh my god, Dean, please-“

“Such pretty sounds,” Dean grins at you, crooking his fingers against that same spot to rub. “Let’s see if we can make some more.”

Without further warning Dean drops back down, latches his lips onto your clit, and sucks it right into his mouth like candy. It’s almost immediate, how he pulls you from warm pleasure to raw, almost feral desperation. You’re right on the edge, grinding on his face as his stubble burns your inner thighs in the best was possible, his tongue flicking over that pulsing bundle of nerves, his fingers reaching a demanding and brutal pace-

“Fuck, I’m-“ You let out a loud moan as Dean growls against you, pulling at his short, soft hair to try and both move him away as you dangle over the drop, and urge him on to let him catch you when you fall. “Close, Dean, I’m close, please-“

He pulls away, and you almost scream from the loss. You even force yourself up to glare at him, but you’ve barely gotten a steady balance when a high, needy breath escapes you at the sight of him. 

Dean’s towering over you, his pants discarded into another corners of the room, stroking his massive, fully-erect cock in one hand as he scans over your sweaty, flushed body. 

“I wanna fuck you dumb, babygirl.” He grunts, and you can’t really hear him your own Dean-addled brain, so you just gape and moan, and he chuckles. “Shit, looks like we’re already halfway there. You got any words for me-“

“Dean, please.” The words start to fall out of your mouth with the slight drool on your chin, almost as if he’d commanded them. “Please, I need you, need you so bad-“

You spread your legs in offering, and Dean groans. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He closes his eyes, running a hand over his face, and there’s a moment before he speaks again where you worry you’ve ruined it. That you’d shown too much, or Dean saw too much, but no matter what this is over before you can even get that huge, glorious cock inside of you- 

“I’m sorry-“

Dean frowns, his brow drawn as he looks down at you. “What the hell are you sorry for.”

“I dunno, I’m just not-“ You swallow. “I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say-“

He grunts your name, prowling over your body under your trapped between his strong body and the bed, unable to escape his intense, searing gaze. Looking at you, examining you, and not flinching or moving away. “You,” he says, tracing one gentle hand over your cheekbones. “Are fuckin’ amazing at this.” 

You can only gape at him, so he keeps going.

“I’m the one that might fuck this up, Sweetheart. You’re so,” he makes a loose gesture to your body, and you really wish he’d use words, but the look of sheer awe in his eyes will be enough for now. “And I get to do this for you, and I’m not trying to blow my load before you even cum once.”

“I almost came.” You offer him a small smile, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw. “But you stopped me.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m plannin’ to make that up to you. If you still-“

“I want it.” You cut him off quickly, rolling your hips up, right against his cock. “Please, Dean, I really want it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping a little further down. “Are you-“

“I’m sure.” You guide Dean’s lips back to yours in a soft, almost sweet kiss, and say the words you really hope will snap whatever leash he’s put on himself. “I want you.”

It works. Something flashes in Dean’s eyes, and his hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rolling it in slow circles as he growls in your ear.

“Wanna feel you, babygirl. Fuck you raw. I’m clean, but if you want me to grab a rubber you’re gonna need to keep yourself going while I-“

“No!” You almost yelp, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate attempt to keep him above you. “I mean, I’m clean too, obviously, and I take birth control just for like, lady stuff-“

Dean raises his brows at you. “Lady stuff?”

“It kinda helps with period cramps and-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as Dean flicks your clit, tossing your head back you start to squirm, trying to catch him into you. “Fuck, Dean, please just fuck me-“

“You mean like this?” Dean guides the head of his cock inside you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Fuck ya’ like this, baby?”

You grind on him, scratching at his back as you plead. “Shit, that’s, Dean that’s good, more-“

“More, baby? You need more already?” His grin is shit-eating, and you’d hit him if the dark look of lust in his eyes, the baritone of his voice being several octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it, and the throbbing ache of him starting to split you open wasn’t rending your limbs only putty in his arms.

“Dean, please-“

You might stop breathing as Dean guides himself fully into you, settling his face in your neck as he bottoms out. There’s a long moment where it’s only Dean’s warmth over and inside you as he gives you time to adjust, groaning against your skin as you squeeze around him.

“Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He kisses right behind your ear. “Feel, fuck, feel so good around my cock, so fuckin’ good-“ He emphasizes his words with one, short thrust that pushes him right against that one spot and makes you whine. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to pound this tight little pussy until you cum all over my cock-“

You almost yank him back down into a desperate, borderline feral kiss, because if he kept talking you might have cum from just the sound of his low, rough voice growling in your ear and rumbling in your chest.

Dean takes a long, ragged breath when he pulls away, and you roll your hips only once. Just enough for him to groans and fall back over you, kissing and sucking on your skin like he thinks you’ll vanish if he doesn’t mark you with his touch. 

Then he starts to move, and you were right. This is heaven. Dean’s moving so slow, pulling almost all the way out before driving back inside, until you’re fully impaled on him—his cock pressed fully against that one spot, making your whole body feel warm and alight, and your head feel a little dizzy—then repeating the movement again. And again. Over and over, so fucking slow, still leaving softer, slightly uneven kisses along your collarbone and grunts against your skin but-

“Dean,” you gasp his name, your nails digging into the muscles of his broad back as he continues to move on you. “Fuck, Dean, go faster, please-“

He rises up to meet your eyes, an unreadable expression on his face that’s made entirely hunger and want, but edged with something a little stronger you don’t understand. “You sure-“

“Yes.” You’re practically whining, scratching at Dean’s skin as you squirm under him, desperate him to really, properly fuck you. “Please, Dean, feels so good, need more, need you-“

He shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt you-“

“Not gonna-” you let out a breathy moan as Dean pushes back into you, the movement a little harsher than before, and so fucking good. “You won’t hurt me, please, Dean, fuck-“

“I’m-“

“You said,” you force your eyes to stay on Dean’s, even as he sits deep into you, cock throbbing against that soft spot and making you see stars. “You said you wanted to fuck me, Dean.” You raise your chin, grinding up into his torso until his throat bobs. “Fuck me.”

A low, primal noise leaves Dean’s mouth, and he fully snaps. You might have screamed his name when he began to move again—ramming into you at an unforgiving pace, creaking the bed and bruising your hips as he grabbed at your skin, molding you perfectly into his touch and body—but he swallows the noise with a deep kiss that makes your eyes go unfocused, your whole body slack and only for Dean to play with as he drags you higher. Slamming against that spot, balls slapping onto your ass, one free hand squeezing at your tits before dragging down your side and finding your clit-

“So fucking good, babygirl.” Dean groans into your mouth, and you think you might be floating or falling or flying, but it doesn’t matter because Dean grunting in your east and slamming into your dripping cunt, and that’s the whole world. “Look so good, all ruined and whiny, such a good fucking girl, taking this cock so well, made to be fucked so fucking pretty-“ He pinches your clit, and you whimper his name. “Wanna cum, baby? Wanna fucking soak this cock-“

“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back, muscles rippling as he drills into you. Something in you hopes it leaves a mark. That Dean feels you on his back a little forever, just like you know you’re going to feel him in your pussy and on your neck for the rest of your life. “Feels so good, Dean, feels so fucking good, wanna cum so bad-“

“Beg-“

Dean barely grunts your name before you bite on his upper lip, almost screaming into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please, need to cum, wanna cum so bad-“

“Shit, baby, you’re-“ Dean groans, his pace becoming uneven and thrusts slightly staggered, cock twitching deep inside you as he ruts into your aching, clenching pussy-

Dean flicks your clit once, sending your hips almost flying off the bed, and starts to rub you at a frantic, savage pace. 

“Cum with me.” He growls your name, lips ghosting over yours and you stare at him under, cockdrunk, lidded eyes. “C’mon, baby, cum-“

Your scream is hoarse as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train—pure, drug-like bliss washing over your whole body, a soft haze of Dean settling behind your eyes and over your skin—and Dean roars as he slams open, warmth coating inside you and dripping between your thighs, down your ass, and onto the bed.

Dean rolls over, taking you with him, and remains carefully sheathed inside you as your cunt grows sensitive and your breathing slows back down. It helps that he keeps your ear pressed to his bare chest, where you can hear his heart beating. Calm and steady and strong, just as certain and constant as the man it’s inside. 

As the man had been.

You’re not sure what he’s going to be now.

“That, ah,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “That do it?”

You smile against him. “If you mean take my virginity, then yeah, I think you did it-“

“No, I mean was it,” He groans, his arm shifting slightly around as his voice drops. “Was it good. For you.”

“Oh.” You nod slowly, trying not to hum like a needy fucking when Dean starts to run his fingers through your hair. “Yeah. Really good.” You stifle a moan as he twitches inside you. “It was awesome. Good, uh, good job?”

“Thanks, Sweetheart.” You can hear to smug grin in his voice, his free hand starting to rub soothingly on your back. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”

There it is. You were pretty awesome. And he’s still inside you. And you need to know if you were awesome enough for something, anything to stick.

“You said, um,” you swallow, staring at his tattoo because you can’t bear to look at his face right now. “You said I could give you a blowjob next time. Did-“ 

“Did I mean it?” 

You nod nervously, and Dean’s whole chest rumbles with his low laugh, rolling right through your body. He grunts your name, and—when you still don’t look at him—hooks a finger under your chin to guide your gaze to his. 

“Look.” He sighs, and this is it. He did you a favor, and that’s it. He won’t stay, nobody stays, why would Dean Winchester be the one to stay- 

“I get it,” you mumble, and wish you would find the will to make your body roll away from his. “You don’t need to explain-“ 

Dean’s grip on you remains firm, and his voice is a deep, amused drawl. It feels a little cruel in your gut, because you’d have really liked more. More would have been the best. You didn’t even need all of Dean, you’d just have really like more. 

“You get it.” He raises his brows, and you nod again. “Sweetheart, you might want to actually hear the explainin’ part before you say anything.”

“I, um-“

“See, I’m a firm believer that all ladies should ride more than one dick in life. Too much of a good thing, ya know?” He winks at you, thrusting slightly up into you, and you flush. “But, if you’re taking applicants for long-term dicks, I’d have to be dumb not to apply. I’m never gonna complain if I get you all to myself.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a whisper. “So, um, you mean-“

“If you’ll have me,” he mutters. “I’ll take you up on that blowjob offer soon. And any other offers you’ve got.”

“Offers,” you swallow. “For long-term dicks?”

He shrugs—tracing a finger over your arm and refusing to meet your eyes—and it might be your turn to make the move. 

“Dean.” You whisper, crawling up his chest just enough for his eyes to easily find yours. “I’d really like you being my long-term dick.”

He frowns. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that-“

You drop down to press a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, and he tenses for only a second before overtaking you. Deepening the kiss with his tongue pushing on your lower lip, groaning when you open for him without a moment’s hesitation, pinning you onto his chest with big, strong arms as you fall fully into him.

Dean pulls back for only a second, searching over your open expression—all affection and need for him, swollen lips and shallow breaths—until he finds what he’s looking for, and his face splits into a wide grin. 

“If you’re lettin’ me,” he says, tucking a little bit of hair behind your ears. “I think I’ll stay your long-term dick for while, Sweetheart.”

“I’m letting you.” You whisper, a small smile pulling on your own lips. “But we need to come up with a better name than long-term dick.”

“Boyfriend?”

You stare at him for a second, unsure if this is real, because Dean just said that word like it was obvious. Not something he’s adamantly refused to be for anyone, ever, for the entire time you’ve known him. He said it like he was waiting to say it. And, looking at him—unfamiliar hope haunting the very deepest part of those perfect eyes, his grin so genuine but filled with nerves—you think he might have been. And all the money and glory and pleasure in the world couldn’t make you tell him no.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Boyfriend’s good.” 

Dean’s grin becomes almost boyish, and this last kiss is sweet. It’s a kiss in the rain, or under bleachers, or on a rooftop with nothing but time and peace around you.

And you and Dean have never had either of those things. 

But you’d really like to and find them. And if it’s with Dean, you really think you could.

End Note: Look at Dean. Being Emotional. I'm so proud of him (I made him do that)

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Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

[illbegottenfaith]

walking away with your kiss on my cheek...

your relationship with theo starts to sour as you begin to suspect him of keeping secrets from you (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - first part of a two-shot I've written! Ngl this thing has gone through wayyy too many drafts and revisions so it’s barely an u healthy relationship, more like unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I have a couple of slightly more intense takes on the trope lined up as well :)

tropes/warnings - mildly (veryyy mildly) toxic/unhealthy relationship descriptions, established relationship, mentions of infidelity, miscommunication, angst

word count - 1.9k

When it came to love languages, Theodore Nott’s was distance. Many of his past relationships had failed once he'd deemed them too suffocating. Nobody had suited him quite like you did. The two of you had somehow stumbled into a mutual understanding of what you wanted out of a relationship. Some considered what you shared too casual to be considered a relationship. You had your separate schedules and commitments, and in your downtime, you kept one another company.

But it worked for the two of you. The best relationships are built between people on the same page, and your perfectly aligned perspectives made the little time you spent together that much sweeter. In fact, things had been going along swimmingly until Katherine entered the picture.

She, or at least the idea of her, entered your life one foggy morning. You were dead on your feet. The aconite you had been tending to as part of your Herbology project demanded your every waking moment outside of your classes. You were just about to fall asleep into your soft-looking, pillowy scrambled eggs when Ivy half-yelled into your ear, as she was prone to doing.

"Didn't know Theo got a new girlfriend!"

Your head snapped up and you groaned. Okay, maybe she wasn't yelling as much as everything sounded ten times louder with that throbbing behind your right temple. You blinked blearily at your friend.

"Huh?"

"Someone's been spending an awful lot of time with Katherine."

It took you a moment to register that you had no idea who Ivy was talking about.

"Katherine Sawyer," she repeated. "Theo's been getting pretty cosy with her, hasn't he?"

Something must have shown on your face, because she immediately dropped the suggestive lilt to her voice.

"I mean - I'm only kidding. It's just that I saw them in the library again last night for, like, the third time this week. I thought you knew." She peered closer at your dark eye bags. "Damn. Are you getting any sleep?"

You shook yourself out of the shock and gave a small smile. "Of course I knew," you lied. If being with Theo had taught you anything, it was how to lie convincingly. "I'm exhausted, that's all."

"Yeah, you look it," Ivy agreed sympathetically. "But really, I was kidding. It's not like he'd do anything. Not Theo."

"Right." You smoothly changed the subject. "So how's your project coming along?"

Still, it bothered you for the rest of the day. Why hadn't he told you about Katherine? He knew you weren't the jealous type, especially when it came to perfectly innocent interactions with the opposite sex. Unless there was a reason for him to keep it from you. You had thought that neither of you was the type to keep secrets from the other, but maybe you had thought wrong. And if he hadn't told you about Katherine, well, what else was he not telling you about?

You dismissed the thought. You were too sleep-deprived for this. It just wasn't like him. Theo would never pursue another girl, not while he already had one on his arm.

Right?

These thoughts were still circulating in your head when you found him reading in the Slytherin common room that evening. You approached him as you always did, but something about what Ivy had said that morning made you hesitate. He didn't look up from his well-worn copy of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian until he felt you sink into the couch beside him. He gave you a strange look before pulling you into his lap, nestling his head in the crook of your neck, the way the two of you usually curled up together when one of you was reading.

"Don't be going shy on me now," he teased lightly. You shushed him, tapping the paperback. As you settled your head on his shoulder, he glanced at your face. "You look tired," he noted quietly. You pulled a face.

"Who knew aconite could be such a bitch?"

Theo turned the page. "I knew. I'd say I told you so, but - ow."

You had sharply tugged at the short hairs at the nape of his neck as a warning. You laughed softly as you ran a soothing thumb over the mildly irritated skin, kissing it better. It was moments like these that made it difficult to harbor any sort of suspicion or resentment towards your boyfriend. As moody and mysterious as he liked to come off, to you he was an open book.

But he still hadn't told you about Katherine.

A few weeks later, Theo and a few others were about to leave for a two-week cultural exchange trip to Durmstrang's. Ivy had dragged you down to the Great Hall where everyone was saying their goodbyes, before disappearing into the crowd in search of Ivan.

Somewhat reluctantly, you walked up to your own boyfriend. Between his trip preparations and your Herbology project, the two of you hadn’t had a minute together for the past week and a half, a new record, even for a relationship as casual as yours.

“Got everything?”

Theo nodded. In his soft, fitted navy blue sweatshirt pushed halfway up his forearms, he looked effortlessly put together. You weren’t scruffy yourself, either. That was why you had any kind of relationship at all, wasn’t it? The two of you made an attractive couple, at least when you acted like one.

You looked over at Ivy, whose boyfriend was humoring a much sappier farewell than yours and Theo's. Scratch that, Ivan lived for Ivy's oddities and eccentricities. Right now, Ivy was kicking a fuss over a fortnight being simply too long of a time to be apart while Ivan promised to call every single night. Occasionally, you had wondered what it would feel like to be in a relationship like theirs, where two weeks apart would be nothing short of agony rather than routine.

As you turned back, you noticed Theo had been following your gaze. He cleared his throat delicately.

"So...two weeks."

"Mhm." You weren't the type of couple to explicitly express affection, especially of the vulnerable kind. You'd miss him, of course, even if you didn't say it. Would he miss you? You shook your head internally. No, you decided, you wouldn't ask. You'd only seem clingy and that wasn't the kind of couple you were. "Be good, have fun."

He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag. You fixed the collar of his jacket. You wondered if he'd tell you about Katherine before he left. From somewhere else in the Great Hall, one of his friends called him over. He pressed a final chaste kiss to your cheek. You watched him walk away with a hollow sort of feeling in your stomach. Merlin forbid you express any kind of attachment to your boyfriend.

He glanced back at you one last time, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, and just like that, he was gone.

Gone.

He didn't say a word about Katherine.

As the two weeks crawled by achingly slow, you tried to convince yourself that you didn't feel the lack of Theo. You had gone longer without talking to him. Hell, before you started dating, you'd only occasionally meet through mutual friends.

But you had never spent time apart feeling this acrid bitterness towards him.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends had picked up on your frutration, especially in the way you had thrown yourself into your work with renewed vigour, doing your best to keep conversations from straying to topics related to Theo.

"I'm going to the owlery to check for letters from Ivan," Ivy was saying one evening, pulling a woollen hat onto her head. "Wanna come with?"

You barely spared her a glance, writing carefully. "Can't. I have this essay to finish."

Ivy deflated visibly. "Don't you want to see if you have anything from Theo?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t be disappointed if you didn’t expect anything.

“Have you heard from him at all?” Ivy pressed.

You gave her a warning look. “Ivy. Stay out of it.”

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t you call him? I'm sure he misses you."

You laughed derisively, nearly stabbing a hole in the parchment. You might have done that any other time, but you were too mad about his imaginary affair with Katherine.

“Miss me? Theo doesn’t miss me.”

“How can you be so sure? You don’t know what he’s-“

“Because if he missed me,” you finally snapped, "he’d call. Or send me an owl. But he hasn't, alright? He hasn't called and I haven't gone to the owlery because no one's missing anybody. He's doing perfectly fine without me, just as I'm doing perfectly fine without him."

No one's missing anybody.

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You stubbornly watched Ivy turn blurrier and blurrier as you failed to blink them back. Your gaze landed on your essay, and the spots where your tears had caused the ink to run. Your essay was ruined.

You pressed a trembling hand to your eyes as you finally caved in, a pair of warm, comforting hands almost immediately coming to rest on your shaking shoulders. As miserable as you had been, you hadn't acknowledged the pain, let alone how it was eating away at you. Once you started crying, it was as though you didn't know how to stop.

“Why won’t he call, Ivy?” you choked out. "Doesn't he think about me?"

"Of course he does," Ivy soothed. "He's probably just insanely busy."

You sniffled. "How busy can a person be? One phone call, one letter, anything - is that really too much to ask?"

Ivy hesitated. The silence stretched out between you like the confirmation of a truth neither of you wanted to admit. She said it anyway.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t need that from him."

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Well, he got that part right.”

You sounded ridiculous even to your own ears. It was a testament to your friendship that Ivy didn’t try to argue with you. She gave your shoulder one last squeeze before standing, her footsteps soft as she made her way to the door. “I’m going to the owlery,” she said, lingering for a moment. “If there’s anything for you -"

"- burn it."

" - I’ll bring it back.”

You focused on the ruined essay in front of you. Messy smudges had formed where your tears had fallen. It was beyond repair, much like the knot in your chest that no amount of rationalising seemed to untangle.

As the door closed behind Ivy, an unbearable silence descended upon your dorm. You pressed your hands against your temples, willing yourself to stop thinking about him, about how easy it seemed for Theo to carry on without you. Maybe that was the worst part—the inescapable realisation that you weren’t half as essential to him as he was to you.

You stared at the blurred words on the parchment, feeling the ache settle deeper into your chest. There was no scintillating revelation, no blinding eureka moment. Just the quiet, gnawing thought that maybe this was all you’d ever be to him—an afterthought.

And maybe, you thought bitterly, crumpling your essay, you deserved it for letting yourself believe otherwise.

Part 2

[mothandpidgeon]

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

[hirukochan]

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out. 

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good. 

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.” 

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 

You have always been Severus’ safespace. 

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it. 

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

[wordsmithic]

unpopular opinion but with the new tide of Greek mythology stories and retellings, Greek Cultural Sensitivity Readings are absolutely necessary. We are in 2024, with thousands of fics and retellings out there!! How is this not a thing yet?? There's vast improvement one can achieve by working professionally on their text with a Greek. I've seen it so many times!!

Also, duh, I'm offering the service BUT I want you to know that the situation with the inaccuracies of SERIOUS works is so dire that initially I didn't even do it for money. As a writer I just wanted to... fix things, to set a new standard for writers and the industry that sells us the most heavily Americanized pop-culture material and passes it as "authentic vibes of Greek mythology". (And of course there were writers who wanted to do right by their story and they had reached out to me. So kudos to them as well!)

Okay, but why does Cultural Sensitivity Reading make a vast difference and it's not just smoke and mirrors?

As a Greek, I am tired of well-meaning writers and authors butchering very basic elements of my culture. It's not their fault exactly, since they were raised in another culture with a different perspective. And nobody clued them in on how different Greek culture is from theirs, so writers sometimes assume that their culture is the default and they project that into ancient Greece. (Even published professionals like Madeline Miller have written "UK or US in antiquity" (with a very colonialist flavor) instead of writing "Ancient Greece". (Looking at you, Circe!)

Even writers who researched a lot before coming to me still had a lot of misinformation or wrong information in their text, easily verifiable by the average Greek. Again, not their fault. They can only access certain information, which does not include Greek scholarly work and scientific articles that DO offer valuable context.

Translation, accuracy, and meaning: If you ever wondered what a word means or how to pronounce it, here's your chance! There are Greeks like me who are knowledgeable and have a keen interest in antiquity and they will be able to read and compare ancient texts, and dive deeper into the work of Greek scholars regarding those texts.

If you want to create new words, you can do that as well! (It doesn't always work, but we can try. Greek is a really rich language and has a word about everything) If you use existing words, I can help you separate reality from fantasy in the context of your story.

(Do not assume we Greeks are ignorant of our heritage, or that we don't know how to research! Our archaeology sector is huge and archaeological museums are closer to most of us than your local Target is to you)

I guarantee there are things you never thought about Greece and the Mediterranean - from the ancient to the modern era. Sprinkling elements like phrases, types of interactions, customs, songs, instruments, dances, etc , into your text will make your text absolutely rich in culture.

Names matter!!! The genders of the names matter, diminutives matter (If I see one more "Perse" for Persephone I will claw my eyes out along with a few thousand Greeks), naming traditions matter!!! In many cases you should not even use a diminutive!!

You will be able to write about a foreign culture easily! Because of the continuity of Greek culture, you can even write a few more recent Greek elements to fill in the gaps. I can make sure they are not mismatched, and they will complement your ancient setting. I have observed a few things I didn't know we had since antiquity, but they make sense because our land has certain characteristics.

Non-Greek writers often miss the whole context of Greek culture! Do you know how Greek respect towards deities and parents looks like? What tones we use when we talk to our elders? When to use honorific plural - if your setting is more modernized?

Oh, and please let's avoid caricatures when describing Greeks?? (even fantasy Greeks) There can be heavy exotisation and odd descriptions of Greeks, as if we are another species. Even in published works. For many western writers it's difficult to catch, unfortunately.

The whole process is actually way easier than you think. You send me a text, I make notes and then we have some discussion on your vision.

It's always okay to seek guidance from the locals! You are not "guilty" when you admit you don't know! How can you know if you don't ask?? You can't imagine what relief and "πάλι καλά!!!" I read/see from other Greeks when I tell them another foreigner is using me for cultural sensitivity? Greeks want you to seek help and will NOT shame you for it!

(On the contrary, you have no idea how many eye-rolls Greeks do when they see a blatantly wrong thing in a story... Which has happened pretty often for many years now. Can we do better as an industry?? Please???)

You can send me a personal message to share your story, or ask what this whole cultural sensitivity thing is all about, or ask about what I have done so far and how I can help. But for the love of all that's good, don't let your story be another "generic greek myth retelling"! And don't let others sell you their generic greek myth retellings!!

[reiderwriter]

For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!

A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️

Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).

Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye. 

After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary. 

At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest. 

So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets. 

Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation. 

Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you. 

The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence. 

“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour. 

“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?” 

You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him. 

Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son. 

If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed. 

“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son. 

You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy. 

You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by. 

But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well. 

“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”

Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you  it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.” 

He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side. 

“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.” 

His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features. 

“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare. 

“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.” 

“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.

“Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-” 

“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation. 

You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be. 

Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure. 

“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”

“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?” 

“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.” 

“Pretty…. Mom, please.” 

“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.” 

Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right. 

It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him. 

He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat. 

He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her. 

And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank. 

He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently. 

He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute. 

“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?” 

“Mom!” 

“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.” 

It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls. 

The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you. 

“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again. 

“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange. 

“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-” 

“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”

“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.” 

Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off. 

“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.” 

He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears. 

“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.” 

He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply. 

“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?” 

“Yes.” 

“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?” 

“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-” 

“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.

He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him. 

“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?” 

“You're serious?” 

“I guess…. I guess I am.”

“And you're… you're single.” 

Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face. 

“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”

“Neither do FBI agents.” 

“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?” 

“Definitely.” 

[infiniteglitterfall]

I do realize this is a real niche post but I cannot tell you how many damn times over the past 10 months I've seen gentiles tell Jews some version of, "Your own holy book SAYS God doesn't want you to have a country yet!"

And it's such an incredibly blatant and weirdly specific tell that they're not part of something that grew from progressive grassroots, but something based on right-wing astroturfing.

1. Staying in your own lane is a pretty huge progressive principle.

Telling people in another group that their deity said they couldn't do X is, I think, as far as you can get from your own lane.

2. It's also very clearly Not In Your Own Lane because I've never seen anyone actually be able to EITHER quote the passage they're thinking of, OR cite where it is.

It's purely, "I saw somebody else say this, and it seemed like it would make me win the debate I wasn't invited to."

3. It betrays a complete ignorance of Jewish culture and history.

Seriously? You don't know what you're referencing, its context, or even what it specifically says, but you're... coming to a community that reads and often discusses the entire Torah together each year, at weekly services... who have massive books holding generations of debate about it that it takes 7 years to read, at one page per day....

And saying, "YOUR book told you not to!"

I've been to services where we discussed just one word from the reading the whole time. The etymology. The connotations. The use of it in this passage versus in other passages.

And then there is the famous saying, "Ask two Jews, get three opinions." There is a culture of questioning and discussion and debate throughout Judaism.

You think maybe, in the decades and decades of public discussion about whether to buy land in Eretz Yisrael and move back there; whether it should keep being an individual thing, or keep shifting to intentional community projects; what the risks were; whether it should really be in Argentina or Canada or someplace instead; how this would be received by the Jews and gentiles already there, how to respect their boundaries, how to work with them before and during; and whether ending up with a fuckton of Jews in one place might not be exactly as dangerous for them as it had always been everywhere else....

You think NOBODY brought up anything scriptural? Nobody looked through the Torah, the Nevi'im, the Ketuvim, or the Talmud for any thoughts about any of this?? It took 200 years and some rando in the comments to blow everyone's minds???

4. It relies on an unspoken assumption that people can and should take very literal readings of religious texts and use them to control others.

And a sense of ownership and power over those texts, even without any accompanying knowledge about what they say.

It's kind of a supercessionist know-it-all vibe. It reads like, "I know what you should be doing. Because even if I'm not personally part of a fundamentalist branch of a related religion, the culture I'm rooted in is."

Bonus version I found when I was looking for an example. NOBODY should do this:

There are a lot of people who pull weird historical claims like "It SAYS Abraham came from Chaldea! That's Iraq!"

Like, first of all, a group is indigenous to a land if it arose as a people and culture there, before (not because of) colonization.

People aren't spontaneously spawning in groups, like "Boom! A new indigenous people just spawned!!"

People come from places. They go places. Sometimes, they gel as a new community and culture. Sometimes, they bop around for a while and eventually assimilate into another group.

Second: THE TORAH IS NOT A HISTORY TEXTBOOK OMFG.

It's an oral history, largely written centuries after the fact.

There is a TON of historical and archaeological research on when and where the Jewish culture originated, how it developed over time, etc. It's extremely well-established.

Nobody has to try to pull what they remember from Sunday school for this argument.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[spooky-scary-scarecrow]

"You have beautiful eyes."

(So, I've been skimming Tumblr and haven't found any goddamn Cooper Howard fics that involve how pretty his damn eyes are. Only a handful of people actually mentioned it - babyghoul still has his luscious eyelashes. So since nobody has written a fic of it, I put it in my hands >:] Enjoy!)

Warnings: Mild nudity, mentions of after-sex, cuddling, complimenting, tooth-rotting fluff, a teeny of lore-building in the first few paragraphs

It was a quiet evening, the both of you laying on an old mattress you had found that was surprisingly intact enough to not have a spring digging into your back. The night was elongated from the actions that happened merely moments ago, labored breath between the both of you still filling your ears.

Turning to face Cooper, your eyes roamed his scarred body. A lean frame with muscle, not too much yet not too little. Just enough to show off how strong he can be. You both met only months ago. It was supposed to be just him killing a bounty for you and you'd pay him in caps and viles. Though after the next few bounties, you grew on him and decided to tag along with his journeys. It was like the longer you were both exposed to each other, the more you fell. Ending up in this situation many times before. Quick, easy, just to relieve stress.

Until now. You took the time to observe him. Observe his scars and muscles and callouses as he laid on his back, arms behind his head as his eyes were closed for the moment. You let your gaze drift up to his face - the normally hardened expression softening.

"I can feel you starin'," he spoke after a moment, making your cheeks flush red as you look away.

"Sorry, I just never seen you so... relaxed," you mumbled sheepishly with a chuckle.

A soft hum left him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you in without warning. This was rare, the physical touch. Affectionate. Slowly, you rest your head on his chest, hearing the faint beat of his rotten heart and the rasp of his lungs as he breathed.

A moment passed before you looked back up at him, capturing his gaze with your own. Suddenly, you noticed something you never noticed.

His eyes. You never studied them because of how much movement he made - or there just wasn't any time. You would have thought that his lashes would have been gone along with his other body hair but no. They were still there. Rather thick and long. Framing the hazel orbs of his. Making them stand out.

They seemed almost a rich, deep gold and green at the moment because of the lighting - only the dim flame of the oil lamp on the ground beside the mattress lighting the area.

They were beautiful.

"I never noticed your eyes," you blurted, your gaze lingering on his. You could just see the shift of emotion in them - they were so expressive. More expressive than you expected. It showed he was still a man - still human - even if he did turn into the being he is now.

"Is that a compliment, darlin'?" he mused, raising a hairless brow.

You pondered. Maybe it was. Maybe you should say the things about them that were stuffed in the back of your brain.

"Yes," you answered after a beat. "I'd say more about them if I could put it into words."

He was the one to break the eye-contact, leaning his head back. You didn't speak again, afraid you might have hit a soft spot in the man. But you could see the corners of his lips twitch, his roughened fingertips tracing imaginary shapes on your bicep as he gazed up at the ceiling, through the holes in the roof.

"I never paid attention," you continued with little hesitancy. "Of your eyes, I mean. I always thought all Ghouls had fully black eyes."

A grunt in response. You can take that. The silence fell between the both of you once more. With a heavy exhale, he pulled you closer until your body pressed firmly into his side. A subtle gesture. A silent thank you.

Maybe you should pay attention to him more often.

Thank you for reading! Give me a message if you want to request any prompts for our cowboy ghoul here :D

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 22: I May Be Right or I May Be Crazy

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Seriously it is DARK. THIS ONE IS REALLY DARK! Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA , Violence, Explicitly Described Torture, Fire, Graphic depiction of death, Blood, Gore, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

A/N: I'm serious guys this one is really gory, violent, and bloody. I mean, so is the show. BUT this is an additional warning if you don't like reading that kind of stuff, please do not read this. It also handles a really delicate issue with the reader going through something that no one should ever have to. I've never written something like this before and honestly I don't think I ever want to again, but it had to be addressed...

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Ben says, gently pushing back a few strands of your hair from your face, fingers trailing against your cheeks, warmed from the morning sun that peaks through the large trees which shield Legend's property from the rest of the world.

Butcher had finally found Mindstorm, figured out which cabin he was hiding at, and although you wanted to go to make sure that Ben was alright, you knew that you couldn't go with him.

There was something you needed to do and you needed to do it without Ben there. It had to be handed delicately. You weren't sure what you would learn, what it would confirm or deny, and as much as it hurt you to be apart from Ben, you had to do it alone.

It was two days after your revelation, after you received what seemed like divine wisdom while staring at your daughter as if seeing her for the first time in forty years and understanding what it was that you'd forgotten. It had been hard to laugh off why you'd shattered a mug during Butcher's little pow-wow, even Rosemary was concerned after, but you'd waved her off and said that you were just getting accustomed to your new supe strength.

But Ben wasn't fooled. When you went upstairs to clean the alcohol from your clothes Ben had followed and tried to get you to tell him what was wrong, but you'd only said that you were tired. He knew you were lying, but he only sighed and hugged you because he didn’t really know what else to do.

And now standing outside of Legend's house while Ben, Butcher, and Hughie were about to go after Mindstorm you wanted to tell him what you believed, but you still couldn't.

You had to find out for yourself.

"Yeah. I don't want to leave Rosemary or Lou." You reply leaning in to his touch. It was true, you didn't, but it wasn't the whole truth and it made you feel guilty. You'd never lied to him before or well, hadn't tried to intentionally trick him. And it felt worse to do this now that the two of you were starting over, and when everything felt more wonderful than you could have imagined all those years ago.

Ben eyes you for a moment and you're suddenly worried that he's been a mind reader this whole time and he's just never said anything.  But then his expression softens. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't said too much since the other day."

"I'm fine." You touch the front of his supe suit, laying your hand directly over his heart and feeling the gentle thud in the palm of your hand. It was difficult not to touch him now, not after the boundary had been crossed so many times over the past two days. Somewhere deep down you worried that Ben was still uncomfortable with you doing something so intimate in public.

You were aware that everyone was looking at the two of you, Rosemary and Lou standing more towards the house on the front porch and Hughie and Butcher were standing by Butcher's car parked in the long driveway. Butcher's car still had a giant hole in the roof from when Ben punched through it and when he saw the hole, Butcher had threatened to send Ben back to Russia and you threatened to melt Butcher into a puddle.

But Ben gently touches your wrist, where your hand rests against his chest, frowning slightly.

"Fine. I've got a few things on my mind-" You whisper, hating how easily he could read you, but at the same time you loved it.

Ben made you feel seen, and after years of feeling invisible, feeling like you were losing you best friend, and feeling like he would never care about you the same way, it made you happy and comforted.

"Then tell me. I want to help." Ben's hand slides up your wrist to your hand, entwining his fingertips with yours and surprising you again. He was being so open and thoughtful in front of everyone. His eyes search yours as if he was trying to see your thoughts and it made you smile again to understand how much he loved you and cared about you.

"Ben." You breathe, squeezing his hand. "I don't want to talk about it now. Can we talk about it when you get back?"

"Is it why you're not coming with me?" His frown deepens.

"A part of it. But I really want to make sure that Lou and Rosemary are safe."

Ben raises his gaze to look at where Rosemary stands frowning at the two of you, before he looks back at you. "Okay." But he doesn't seem happy with the turn of events.

You didn't blame him, you didn't want him to go face Mindstorm alone even with Hughie and Butcher. You still didn't trust Butcher and of all your old teammates Mindstorm was the most troubled.

"Can you promise me something?" You ask Ben, looking up at him.

"Anything."

"Watch out for the kid."

"The kid?" Ben looks confused. "Lou?"

"No. Hughie." You glance over to where Hughie is standing at the back of the car with Butcher.

Probably talking about the Temp V they're going to shoot up to take down Mindstorm.

You really didn't want to leave Ben with Mindstorm of all people. Mindstorm was probably one of the only supes that could do something to Ben. Ben did have some psychic immunity, but you thought that Mindstorm could peel away the layers, sink deep into his mind, make Ben see the things that always plagued him. And the last thing you wanted was for Ben to be trapped in an automatic loop of him listening to his father say what a disappointment he was. You were trying to make him forget those things, just as Ben tried his hardest to make you forget the things your mother said to you.

If Mindstorm put Ben through that, you were going to hunt him down to the ends of the earth and make him understand what it was like for someone to peel the skin from your flesh bit by bit and then make him eat that brain of his that he loved so much.

Plus you figured that the worst thing that could happen is Mindstorm would lock you in your own head and you'd have to spend your final hours with your dead mother, which yes that would suck, but at least at the end of it you'd have a new fun superpower to torture Mindstorm with.  Seemed like a good trade-off if you had to spend your last moments with the bitch herself.

I wonder what he'd make her say to me, what I'd see. I've heard it all before, don't really think that he'd make me see anything I haven't seen before or heard before.

"Why?"

"Hughie's not like us. None of this is him. He's different. He's a good person and all of this is-” You glance over at Hughie again, before looking at Ben. “ Just look out for him."

Ben's hand tightens in yours where it still rests against his chest. "Fine. But if that fucker comes for me I'm not going to tip-toe around Hughie's feelings. I'm going to kill Mindstorm, that's why I'm going there."

"I know." You nod.

"I mean you saw the shit he did to those kids-" Ben whispers the last part because he doesn't want Lou to hear, but notices Rosemary perk up, where she stands on the front porch.

"Yeah. I remember."

Mindstorm was more fucked up than most of the others on your team, found joy in making people see terrible things. And his favorite targets were children. Stan had a hell of a time covering that up, covering up Mindstorm's morning walks through parks and on the edges of elementary schools. He liked to live in their minds as he took them apart bit by bit, exposed them to his own twisted reality.

Mindstorm wasn’t a good person, but you knew that Hughie was.

"I'm not asking you to spare his life." You whisper back. "He was one of the worst from our old team. I'm just asking you to look out for the kid."

"I will."

You nod, still worried. He was going with Hughie and Butcher, but it still felt like he was alone if you weren't with him. The problem was you couldn’t see the way around it. This was your chance to go alone to find some answers, but you didn't like it, didn't like leaving Ben.

Probably about as much as Ben hated leaving you.

“I promise I’ll come back.” He murmurs pressing his forehead against yours, green eyes soft in the morning light. He was mistaking you hesitation for your fear of him leaving and never coming back.

You reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "I know." Your thumb gently rubs over his bearded cheek, smiling up at him. "I love you." You whisper.

Ben leans down and kisses you softly, just a fleeting brush of his lips against yours that leaves you wanting more. "I love you too Sweetheart." He murmurs with a soft smile.

Again you weren't used to that, used to him looking at you like you were his whole world, and you never wanted him to stop.

Ben pulls away and raises his gaze to where Rosemary stands arms crossed over her chest with Lou standing beside her watching with wide eyes.

"Be careful." Rosemary says, but it sounds pained, almost as if it took a large amount of effort to say, but you were happy she said something to him that wasn't meant to hurt him.

Maybe that's a good sign. You think to yourself, but then you notice the frown on her face. Or maybe not.

He nods once, but as soon as he takes a step towards where Hughie and Butcher are waiting by the car, Lou runs to him, her tiny arms pumping as fast as she can.

"Ben wait!" She cries, throwing herself against his leg and pressing her head into his right knee. "Don't go. If you go Aunty y/n will be sad again!" Lou mumbles into the fabric, hugging him tight.

Ben stiffens, his eyes shifting to you and for a second you see something unfamiliar flash in his gaze, something painful. It shakes you to your core, and makes you remember how he looked when he stood above your bed the night he came back and said that he couldn't lose you and when he sat in the car and showed you how upset he was that he wasn't there for you when you were pregnant with Rosie.

It made you want to pull him into your arms and hold him close, make him feel loved all over again, show him how much you wanted him here with you despite everything that happened in the past.

He crouches down so he can look Lou in the eye. "I won't be gone long. I'm a little harder to kill than these other sons of-" Ben stops to sensor what he was going to say and clears his throat. "Um. I'm a little harder to keep away than other people."

"Do you promise?" She says.

"Yes I promise honey." Ben smiles tightly.

"Take this for good luck." Lou reaches into the front of her bright pink overalls to pull out a small yellow flower about the size of Ben’s pinky, holding on to the stem in her little hand.

You have no idea where she got it, only that she was holding it out to Ben as if it had the power to save the universe.

Ben looks from Lou's face to the flower, but takes it from her. “Thank you.” He places it carefully in his pocket and zips it in, but before he can stand to go, Lou throws her arms around Ben’s neck and hugs him tight.

You're sure that Ben must barely feel it, you'd seen a supe try to choke him out and Ben only laugh at them. But this is different.

Ben doesn’t move, in fact it doesn’t look like he’s really breathing. His eyes flick to where you’re standing, wide  in surprise and you give him an encouraging smile, because Lou already loves Ben just as much as you do. Ben’s arms are still at his sides awkwardly, but he finally wraps one arm over Lou’s back to hold him to him, gently as if he’s afraid he’ll crush her.

"I'll come back." He murmurs to her. "I promise." But his eyes aren't on Lou, they're on you, open and almost earnest. Making you understand again that he didn't want to leave you, that he wanted to stay, but if he had to go, he'd always come back to you.

Rosemary watches with a frown from the porch, but doesn’t say anything. In the days that had followed their initial meeting she was still trying her best to let him know that she wasn't going to be his friend, that she wasn't going to forgive him.

It hurt you. You didn't say that to her, because you didn't want her to be guilted into liking Ben, but it hurt. It hurt to see your daughter push him away, when all Ben wanted was family. You understood that. Understood that in the way he treated Lou and understood it in the way he treated you.

He was so different than before and you wished Rosemary could see it like you did, but you understood that she needed to realize that all by herself no matter how long it took. You all had time.

Maybe that was the problem, Rosemary had an eternity to hate Ben, but maybe the good thing was that you had an eternity to make him feel loved.

Lou pulls back from him and you take her hand while Ben stands.

"Oi' while we still got daylight!" Butcher shouts from his car, leaning back against the door.

But just before you think Ben is going to go to the car, he steps close to you and kisses you so fiercely you don't remember how to breathe and then he's gone just as suddenly.

You watch the car pull away holding Lou's hand tightly, while it goes down the long drive and finally vanishes in the thicket of trees. It doesn't feel as warm anymore, you're not sure if that's because Ben is gone or because you're preparing yourself for what you have to do next.

"Here you go kitten. This is the only one I could find" Legend says walking through the front door of his house and past Rosemary to hand you a knee-length dark green leather coat. It was vintage, and you had asked him to find something that didn't make you look ridiculous. Legend had closets full of clothes that would have made you look like you were in a Solid Gold music video, and Ben had started wearing the clothes around the house because he didn’t have anything else.

Of course on him they looked good, Ben could be wearing a paper bag and a shower cap and still somehow pull it off.

"Thank you." You release Lou's hand to take it, putting your arms through the sleeves so it hung over your jeans and your black t-shirt.

I swear if I lose one more jacket someone is going to pay. Yeah, because that's what I should be upset about, losing another jacket.

"What do you need that for?" Rosemary asks.

"Lou." You crouch down next to her, smiling up into her freckled cheeks. "I want you to go inside and draw me a field of sunflowers okay?"

"A whole field?" Her eyes brighten.

"A whole field."

"Can I give it to Ben?" She asks.

"Of course you can honey. I think he’d like that very much.” You tuck her dark hair behind her ear before she turns and runs through the large wooden double doors at the front of Legend’s home.

You stand. "I have to do something."

"What do you mean? I thought you just told Ben that you weren't going after Mindstorm?"

"I'm not going after Mindstorm."

"Then what? You’re going to kill someone else aren’t you?” Rosemary crosses her arms over her chest, obviously upset.

You don’t answer.

“Why? Why are you doing this-“ She shouts exasperated.

“Something about everything that happened doesn’t sit well with me.”

“What do you mean everything that happened?”

“Ben was Vought’s golden boy. And I don’t understand why Stan Edgar would just let him be taken like that.” You look at where Legend stands. You didn't think that he knew anything about it, hoped that he didn't. He was one of your oldest friends and to find out that he had betrayed you the same as Payback had betrayed Ben wouldn't end well.

By now he's lit a cigarette, smoking it thoughtfully. "I've wondered the same thing. Stan Edgar was involved in everything, and for him to give the go ahead for Payback to hand Soldier Boy over, means that there must have been some money exchanged for him to green light it." Legend blows out a lungful of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face. "Stan never brought up much with me, just that he was excited that the team was going to be given a chance to help out in Nicaragua." Legend frowns. "I will say that before the premiere that night, Stan seemed to already know that y/n wasn't going to be on that trip. In fact he was convinced that you were going to stay state-side and work with Vogelbaum on some things."

"Vogelbaum?" Rosemary questions looking at him.

"He was the main scientist for Vought, he had in fingers in every pie, knew the extent of all our powers, except mine." You wave a hand. "I always refused bloodwork, I didn't want him to be poking and prodding around in my DNA for too long. But he definitely was big on genetic testing. They were trying to make a new hero-" You pause remembering what Vogelbaum said the night of the premiere. You hadn't remembered what he said until now. When Vogelbaum mentioned the next generation of heroes.

"What is it?" Legend asks.

"Stan knew I wasn't going to Nicaragua. He knew that Countess would make Ben push me away, but what if he was working with Vogelbaum?"

"What would that help?" Rosemary interjects.

"The night of the premiere Vogelbaum said that he wanted me to come by the lab, to meet someone. He said that he was working on "the next generation of heroes" or something." You shake your head as if trying to move things back in place so you can understand. "There's something I'm missing about the whole situation. Some missing piece that doesn't fit." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Stan tried to come talk to me after Ben died, but I never heard what he had to say- I broke his nose and threw him out."

"Maybe he was going to try to get you to come to the lab again." Legend shrugs.

"But why were they so adamant about that it just makes no sense. Why was I important? Why me? It could have been anyone. Hell, they could have had Countess go instead of me. There were other women, other supes. Why did I matter so much?"

You glance at Rosemary again, examining her face and seeing the same thing you realized the other day. Deep down you understood why, but you wanted to be wrong, you didn't want to believe that someone would take that from you, that someone was capable of doing something like that.

"But do you have to kill someone to find out why?" Rosemary pleads. "I don't understand how you're okay with killing people-" She begins to say looking at you like she's never met you before.

"You think I'm okay with killing people?" You ask her. "You think I like this?"

"No but-"

"I've done a lot of shit that I'm not proud of. I've lost control. I've killed people. But believe me when I say that what I'm about to do, I do for you. It might not seem that way right now, but I hope that one day you can understand that."

"Mom I-" She starts, but you hold out your hand. She looks from it to you as if confused, but then finally takes it.

"If Homelander comes here, you kill him. Do you understand me? You don't give him a chance to speak, you kill him." You say, feeling your powers transfer into Rosemary. It didn't hurt, it never did, in fact if she did it to anyone else they probably wouldn't have noticed. Her ability was almost undetectable, the only thing that changes is the quick flash of molten gold in her eyes when she does so. But it was instantaneous and it didn't matter how long Rosemary held on to someone, all it took was skin to skin contact, one touch and that was it.

Rosemary's expression hardens. "Okay."

"I love you." You squeeze her hand once more before you let go.

"I love you too mom."

You take a few steps away from her. "I'll be back tonight. I promise. If Ben gets back before me, just tell him that I needed to do something and that I'll be back. Don't let him try to come after me."

"He's not the easiest person to tell what to do." She sighs.

"I know." You shrug. "He's just like you."

"He is not-"

"He is."

"You need to borrow the car kitten?" Legend asks, beginning to search through his pockets for the keys to his black 1967 Impala. It was in mint condition and Legend was proud of it.

He should be. It's a nice car.

"Nah I think I'll hitch-hike." Your smile is triumphant and maybe a bit mischievous, as you take to the sky, leaving the world and everything you know behind.

If only you knew what was coming.

Stan Edgar was a simple man. He liked his whiskey neat, his coffee black, his cigars Cuban, his suits pressed, his dinner at 6 pm sharp, and his women poised. Stan Edgar rarely deviated from his plans, never cancelled a meeting, and took every phone call no matter how late. He read the Wall Street Journal each day, checked his blood pressure meticulously, and was in top shape for a man of his age. After years of shaping his image, Stan Edgar's life was the epitome of control and composure.

Not a hair was ever out of place, his apartment on the Upper East Side was perfectly organized, and he never got angry, he got even. He never lost a minute of sleep. He never raised his blood pressure and he knew the exact price that a minute of his time was worth.

He took his morning coffee in the dining room of his large five-bedroom penthouse apartment with a bowl of oatmeal while he read the Wall Street Journal and left his home at exactly 7 am only to return at 5 pm to read through various briefs before his housekeeper delivered his dinner to the same dining room table that he had previously had breakfast on.

When he was taken off the board from Vought, his schedule had deviated slightly, but it was easy for him to control the company, especially with the connections that Stan Edgar had worked his entire life to maintain.

Stan Edgar's life had reached a point of comfortable routine and after forty years it was as it should be. He knew the ins and outs of New York City, he had a stable home, various rental properties, rising stocks, and a control of most of the inner workings of Vought even with Homelander's hostile takeover. Homelander was proving to be a bigger problem than he hoped, but Stan Edgar did not allow himself to revel in Homelander's destruction of the company Stan worked so hard to build up.

Every moment in his life was mapped out to the second and Stan Edgar had worked hard to make it to the top, had crushed many an executive, assistant, and person to gain the power and status that he had.

When Forbes did a profile on him, they had proudly described his rise to power, of course there were details left out, pieces of Stan Edgar's life that he had worked hard to sweep under the rug. But he did not lose sleep over that.

His apartment is cold, silent, and dark when he walks through the front door at 6 pm sharp, odd because Stan expected his housekeeper to be standing there to take his coat as she had been for the past twenty years. The same navy blue wool coat he shrugs out of and hangs on the maple coatrack just inside the front door in his foyer.

You can hear the sound of his footsteps along the marble tiled floor as he makes his way through the silent apartment, his dark brown shoes polished to a shine, squeaking slightly against the polished tiles.

"Roberta?" Stan calls looking for his housekeeper. His voice caries through the darkness.

You could smell the tobacco from his last cigar on his suit coat, his heady cologne, and his hair oil that was just a little spicy. It was old fashioned, something that you could remember from the first time you met him.  You could hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest, perfectly maintained by the bottle of medication you had found in his bathroom only a few hours ago.

You already knew Stan Edgar's routine by heart, knew exactly how he spent his days, and the kind of person he was. Today was not the first time that you had trailed him, wove through the crowded streets behind his thin form as he moved oblivious to your shadowing, and watched his driver Carlos pick him up and drop him off at the correct times. You had done it many times, taken days to understand who he was, understand where he went at what time, and who he met with.

Nothing in Stan Edgar's life was a mystery to you.

Hughie's revelation of Victoria Newman's relation to Stan Edgar was not a surprise. It was a piece of information you held close to your heart if things between the two of you ever went South. You didn't fear her power and you weren't above torturing the weapon that Stan had turned her into. It would have been difficult, she was after all a senator, but it would be easy to inflict a small problem within her body telekinetically, something that looked normal to the naked eye.

Of course what you were about to do to Stan was going to be difficult to explain to the police.

You had contingencies in place for that though, there was nothing to worry your head over. The hardest thing you'd done today was get out of bed this morning and your day had included disposing of Stan Edgar's security detail, who hadn't even been able to touch you, let alone know that you were following him.

Some security detail.

You took a drag from your cigarette, leaning back in the high-backed chair in Stan's ornate living room, the tip burning orange in the darkness, the smoke obscuring your form where you lounge back against the faded green velvet. It already smelled like cigar smoke and you knew that it was where Stan smoked his nightly pipe after dinner, the velvet holding the strong scent of tobacco and Stan's ancient cologne. You hadn't had a cigarette since you were pregnant with Rosemary, but there was something about the drama of smoking one that you couldn't pass up.

Stan turns into the living room, but his foot hits something solid where nothing should be and he pauses.

"Roberta?" He says again hesitantly. "Did you move the couch?"

She wouldn't answer him, couldn't answer him. Killing her had probably been a mistake, but when you realized that she was an ex-hero hired by Stan as an extra precaution to make sure no-one entered his apartment, it had made you feel better, especially when she tried to electrocute you, which had surprisingly slowed you down, but not enough to spare her life.

You hear Stan's fingers fumble against the light switch on the wall and the hiss of his surprise when his hand comes back sticky and wet.

You can see him clearly in the darkness, Homelander's x-ray vision meant that you'd never have a problem seeing in the dark ever again. You watch Stan's nose wrinkle in disgust, confused at the discovery, but then watch as he reaches again and flips on the light, his eyes leveled at the ground trying to figure out what it was that he stumbled onto.

His security detail had come to sweep his apartment as they did each day thirty minutes before he arrived home, and it had been the last thing that they had ever done. The blood from the bodies was soaking through the hardwood floors and trickling down to the oriental rugs below Stan's modern living room furniture. The thick copper smell of blood was everywhere and you weren't sure how he missed it.

You hear the sharp intake of his breath as he sees the bodies, traces the ripped limbs and headless forms of his pathetic security detail at his feet. There were others in his bedroom, one in the kitchen, and another hanging from the horns of a moose head over the fireplace at your right where you sit, the blood flowing thick down the beige wallpaper and dripping onto the once pristine floors. There were nine in total, and although the past version of you would have maybe felt some remorse for their deaths, you were finding it difficult to, especially after realizing what you had.

"It's hard to find good help these days." You arch your brow taking a drag from the cigarette perched between your index and middle finger. "I'd say you paid too much for their service given how easy they were to dispose of. I'm kind of disappointed, thought that they'd be a bit more of a challenge."

Stan looks up from the bodies, eyes wide, to see you sitting there in the armchair. There was blood flecked over your shirt, on your jacket, in your hair and on your cheeks that you hadn't bothered wiping away, you figured that there would be more soon and you didn't care.

"Y/n." He keeps his voice composed, but you can hear his hand shift to his pocket for his phone.

It doesn't get far.

You telekinetically pull him over the back of the couch and force him on his knees in front of the ornate square coffee table poised in the center of the room. His hands palm down, fogging the glass with his body temperature. His body is outlined in bright purple, completely at your mercy and under your control, your own eyes glowing bright purple.

You allow yourself to take another drag of cigarette and let a cloud of smoke trickle out from your full lips. "It's good to see you Stan. How long has it been? Ten years? You look good better than my teammates did anyway."

"I was wondering when you were going to drop by." He says tightly eyeing you. "Are you going to keep pretending that you're not Indigo?"

You smile and laugh at him. "I think I'm done pretending."

You weren't surprised that Stan knew. When you'd seen him at your art show all those years ago when you moved back to the city you had suspected he knew, not to mention that he had called Legend to ask about you. It was unfortunate that Stan knew, because now you worried who else knew, but you also figured that the cat was out of the bag as soon as you fought Homelander.

Plus, maybe the secret would die with Stan.

"Is Ben here?" Stan asks, and you hear the way his voice sticks on Ben's name. His eyes shift to the dark corners of the room as if he believes that Ben will materialize from the shadows.

It's like him to be more afraid of Ben than me. No one was ever afraid of me. I was just Ben's little friend, another supe that they could dress up and put on display. They should have been afraid.

"No, I came alone. Thought I'd give him the night off."

"I’m surprised you let him back into your life after everything that happened." Stan replies, but you don't miss the twitch of his body as he tries to escape the grip of your powers. He wouldn't. Your hold was unbreakable for someone like him. If you had decided to use your powers on Ben or on Homelander, you were sure that it wouldn't hold them for long, they were too strong.

You examine Stan again. His body is rigid in your hold, head tilted up to stare at you, hair flopping forward into his face from when you yanked him over the couch, and his knees are pressed into the blood soaked carpet on the living room floor.

You knew what he was doing, he was trying to get inside your head, try to make you turn against Ben the way everyone else did, but you wouldn't fall for it, not again.

"Well you did you best to keep it that way, didn’t you Stan?"

"I don't know what you're talking about-" Stan's words are cut off in a gasp as your telekinetic grip tightens on his body, squeezing him tight for a moment before you release the pressure, but keep him where he is.

"Do me a favor, don't lie to me. It's insulting, plus we're old friends." You smile sweetly. "And I always love seeing my old friends. Especially ones who stabbed Ben and me in the back."

Your glowing purple eyes flick to the large painting on the living room wall. It's one of yours, a depiction of a quiet forest from your last show. It was weird to see a piece of the new life you crafted hanging there. "I'm flattered you bought one of my paintings."

"You always were talented. I was disappointed that you didn't start trying to sell them earlier. Probably would have sold more when you were a hero,  could have enhanced your image." He says, but you can hear the edge beneath his voice. He's trying to keep conversation, make this diplomatic, when he knows there's no way out. You’d made sure of that. No one was coming to help Stan Edgar.

"I sell enough now. Thanks though." Your body stands from the chair, listening to the rapid beat of his heart in his chest, and gesture to the collection of tobacco pipes that line the mantle beneath the body of the security guard. "My dad had a pipe just like this one." You stop at a simple one, not carved, plain, a dark cherry wood that tapered into solid black. "Used to smoke right before he went to bed every night. I spent a lot of time sketching him sitting in his chair by the fireplace, learning what he looked like, tracing the plains of his face." You take another long drag from the cigarette.

It was hard to think about your father after all these years, you hadn't thought of your family in a long time, not when you had Rosemary and Lou and now Ben. But you could still remember those quiet evenings when there was a hint of a chill in the air and your father would smoke his pipe and listen to music from the phonograph he had in the corner while you sat at his feet and drew him. Sometimes your mother would join him with her own embroidery in the matching arm chair next to his. As much as you never got along with her, you could see how much she loved your father and how much he loved her.

"I'd never met Homelander in person before a few days ago. I'd seen his face on billboards, on energy drinks but never in person. I would have realized it years ago if I had." You trace the gentle curve of the pipe with a fingertip, exhaling another trail of smoke.

"Realized what?"

"I'm only going to ask you this once Stan." You pause as you turn to look at him. "Why does Homelander have my father's nose?"

It was obscure. You knew that. But it was what you had realized the other day when you were looking at Rosemary, the one feature that distinguished her from Ben, the one piece of yourself that she had, was the same one that Homelander did. You suspected that the smell of hair dye you smelled when you met Homelander for the first time was to cover up the brown hair that he must have shared with Ben, just as the makeup on his cheeks would cover the familiar freckles Rosemary had. They could have been twins, you could see it now.

Stan doesn't breathe, his muscles straining under his suit as he silently fights for his freedom, his heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears, but he doesn't answer you.

Your eyes glow a dangerous purple and the ceiling light flickers above the two of you, the sound of the static with each blink breaking up the wet tap of the blood dripping to the floor and the low pitched thrum of your powers that fills the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stan swallows.

"What did I say about lying to me?" You sigh, flicking the cigarette into the full length white curtains that remain closed over the living room windows, immediately catching fire. Of course they would, you'd soaked them in gasoline moments before Stan came into the room.

His eyes flick to the flames as they reach up to the ceiling, but the fire alarm wouldn't go off, you'd sabotaged it. 

"The human body can withstand 50 pounds of pressure per square inch before it starts to crush. I’ve never crushed anyone before, mind you I’ve also never been crushed." You shrug your shoulders turning back to look at him. "But I'm very interested to see what it will do to your body."

Stan utters one word. "Please."

"It's funny." You take a step closer to him, tapping your lip thoughtfully. "I didn't ask you to beg for you life, I asked you to answer a simple question."

Stan still doesn't answer. The high pitched snap of his fingers one by one breaking is sharp as you increase the pressure on his hands , like the crisp sound of a wishbone at Thanksgiving.

Stan inhales sharply, his gaze lowering to what used to be his fingers, not quite realizing what the sound was. You watch as the realization rolls across his face like thunderclouds on a stormy day, as he realizes  they have been reduced to mush beneath your powers and a scream rips from his throat, echoing through the empty hallways, but there's no one there to hear him scream. Blood swells beneath the ruined flesh, turning his skin a sickly shade of purplish-red, before oozing through the breaks in the tissue by the sharp points of what were the delicate bones of his hands.

"Ooo. That doesn't look too good buddy." You click your tongue. "You want to rethink your answer? Or do I have to do your toes to match?"

"Vogelbaum tried to tell you at the premiere." His voice is a weak growl, eyes not raising from his hands. "I tried to tell you too, but you broke my damn nose."

"Tell me what?" You hold your glowing purple hand over him like a warning prepared to crush whatever you have to, to make him speak.

He continues to look down at his ruined hands.

"Ah-ah-ah." You place a fingertip beneath his chin, feeling the stubble of his five o'clock shadow, so his gaze is now on you. "I want you to look at me."

"Ben was a manic, crazed, he needed to be replaced. He wouldn't follow orders, wouldn't listen to us. He only listened to you!" Stan spits, his eyes filled with rage and pain. "It was easy to turn the rest of the team against him. Countess was jealous of his attention on you, it was logical that she would be the one to break whatever you two had. Even Noir was easy to convince. He always was obsessed with you after you saved his life from that asshole." More blood seeps over the glass table.

You withdraw your hand from Stan's chin for a moment surprised. You knew that Countess was always trying to get between Ben and you, but the news of Noir's obsession was new.

"What do you mean Noir was obsessed with me?"

"Oh please." Stan seethes through his gritted teeth. "Did you really think that you kept losing things? Your hair ties, your underwear, your hairbrush, even that stupid fucking necklace you always wore! Noir was harder to keep out of your apartment than Ben whenever you were out of town. Not to mention he always asked to be put on the same interviews, given auditions in films you were in. Noir was always trying to get between Ben and you, but you never gave him the time of day. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to make sure you never figured out that he kept breaking in to your apartment?"

Your body goes cold. You knew the necklace Stan was talking about, the pearl necklace that your father had given to you all those years ago, the one that you'd lost a few months before your birthday and never figured out where it went, and the one that Ben had replaced on the night he gave you everything you wanted. You had noticed some things missing, the hair-ties and hairbrush, but you thought you'd left in the hotel rooms that Vought paid for, you had no idea that Noir had been in your apartment.

Whenever he talked to you, you thought that he was being friendly, that Noir was trying to be nicer to you because the rest of the team avoided you due to your close relationship Ben, but you never imagined that he wanted to be more.

"Noir was first on board with the plan. It didn't take much to get the others to fall in line." Stan continues.

"What plan?"

"The plan to replace Soldier Boy. But it had to be handled delicately, there couldn't just be any supe that took over. It had to be someone worthy, someone who exemplified the bullshit American Ideals that Ben used to boast about in all of those ridiculous films."

"So what? You sent Ben off to fucking Russia and you replaced him with Homelander? You shoved all that American dream shit down Homelander's throat and look what you created. You created a fucking monster!"

"It wasn't supposed to be that way. Vogelbaum wanted the replacement to grow up with a mother. He saw how Ben lived with only a father's influence and he wanted a soothing reassuring person in the replacement's life."

"You're not answering my question." You snarl, your hands beginning to glow brighter as you tighten your grip on his feet, preparing to crush them into mush.

"We had the genetic material from Soldier Boy it was harder to get it from you!" Stan shouts, feeling the pressure intensify in his feet, thinking that if he answers your question you'd spare them.

You stop for a moment, tilting your head to the side. The heat from the flames on your left growing with every passing second as they spread to the other curtains on the second large window. “What are you saying?”

“Did you really think we didn’t know what you could do?" Stan almost laughs, but it comes out in a choking cough. "We knew. Your power is one of the rarest we’d ever seen. And Dr. Vogelbaum hoped that your son would have the same one, that your son would possess some quality that you had and the qualities that Soldier Boy had. The perfect weapon. The perfect supe." Stan croaks. "A supe that could adapt and walk away from death like you could. A supe that was perfectly under our control, different than Soldier Boy."

“Are you saying that Homelander is my son?” Your voice is dangerously low, no more than a snarl.

Stan swallows. “Yours and Soldier Boy.”

With those words, the bones in Stan’s feet snap loudly as they both are reduced to nothing, but crushed bone and flesh, never to be used ever again.

But his scream of pain is wiped out by the roaring in your ears as you realize what he's said, realize exactly what Vogelbaum did all those years ago, realize exactly why he asked you to come to the lab when you danced together at the premiere.

It was what you suspected, but that didn’t mean that you were any less ready to hear it. The wave of emotion that crashes over you squeezes your heart in your chest, because what kind of a monster would do that? What kind of person would take something like that from you or from anyone?

Anger, pain, shock, rage, and horror all war in your chest, grappling against your ribs, choking your next breath from your lungs, and make you feel as though your body is tearing itself apart.

You think about the hollow look in Homelander's dark eyes, remember what Hughie told you he was doing to Annie, what Hughie told you he had threatened to do, and remember what Butcher said that Homelander did to his wife. You remember how cocky and confident he was at the Twins home, how unaffected he was by the gore of the bodies on the upper levels, and remember the way he didn't seem to care that he was hurting Ben, that he killed Butcher, and then tried to kill you.

That monster is my son, is Ben's son. He's Rosemary’s brother-

You could feel the anxiety rising, threatening to rip your own heart out of your chest, but then it suddenly shifts to all encompassing rage. The entire room shakes with the force of your anger, spider cracks appearing in the drywall all around the room, the windows in the room shatter sending glass blowing outward onto the street sixty stories below the penthouse apartment, and the furniture begins to shift and slide along the floor restlessly as the flames flare bright red and orange and cause the wallpaper to curl black.

"How did you get my genetic material?" Your voice is eerily calm as you gaze at him, vision going red.

Stan looks up at you, painful tears in his eyes. "We couldn't do it when Ben was with you. He was so damn protective of you, if we tried to touch you with him around he would have torn us apart, so we had to wait for him to go shoot one of those stupid films overseas." He gasps. "Vogelbaum said that you wouldn't remember. Said that it would be just like a bad dream.

You freeze when he says that, the memory of the nightmare that had plagued you for decades flashing across your mind, every detail becoming crystal clear. The voice of Vogelbaum telling the nurses to hold you down, the smell of his breath, his face gazing down at you from between your legs with a sickening smile on his face, while you tried to clear your head, the sound of your own screams ripping from your throat as you tried to fight the drugs they pumped into your system to keep you quiet.

"Egg extraction was difficult." Stan coughs, blood appearing on his bottom lip. "You killed two nurses and two orderlies. Almost killed Vogelbaum."

"I should have." You spit savagely. "If he was here, I would make him suffer. How could you do that? How could you do something so inhuman-"

Your body doesn't feel like your own, your skin is too tight, your next breath catching in your lungs, and a shudder of absolute disgust shakes through your bones. You feel the urge to throw up, to expel whatever images you can, to purge yourself because it meant they had been inside you, touched you, defiled you in a way that they believed was justified. Disgust, shame, horror and pure uninhibited rage shift along your skin in waves crackling in the air around your body. Everything you know is a lie. Everything that you thought you knew about the past nothing more than shades of gray.

"In the name of science there is no boundary, no limit that cannot be surpassed." Stan tries to smile, but it comes off as a grimace and as soon as he opens his mouth, his entire front row of top teeth rip from his mouth and land on the glass table, flecking blood over the surface.

Stan sputters, choking on the blood, eyes widening in pain, but he continues, his voice sticking around the holes where his teeth once were. “Vogelbaum tried to tell you that night. Tried to get you to come to the lab but you refused. He wanted the subject to have a mother, a figure that he respected, a way of reigning him in-"

"You have taken everything from him!" You snarl grabbing Stan by the throat, raising him to your face. "You have denied him the right of family. You made him into something inhuman something unrecognizable-"

"We didn't do anything." Stan cannot hold on to your wrist, tries to raise his ruined hands to place them against you skin, but they only slide off leaving smears of his blood against your flesh. "You chose this. You did this to him. You denied him a mother. We tried to allow you into his life and you refused."

"Don't you dare turn this on me. What you did to my son is not my fault. You turned him into a monster because you wanted a puppet, a weapon you could control. What Homelander became is all you and Vogelbaum. It has nothing to do with me." You throw Stan back against the opposite wall. "You made damn sure of that."

He lands in a heap, tries to rise to his feet, but the ruined stumps no longer work so he props himself up against the wall,  taking shallow breaths, blood trickles down the corner of his mouth.

But Stan doesn't stay on the floor long, you raise him up, his body glowing again bright purple as he slams back into the wall, arms outstretched, legs hanging limply beneath him as he gasps for breath.

"When Butcher's wife had her son, Vogelbaum was happy he got another chance. Happy that Ryan had a mother figure to rely on, but Ryan has not turned out anywhere near as powerful as your daughter.”

Your jaw tightens as you tilt your head, fear breaking through the rage and numbness that has begun to build beneath everything else.

"What did you just say?"

"It took us years to find her, but as soon as I saw her at the art show ten years ago I knew. She's the spitting image of Ben. So we put things in motion."

"What things?" You snarl, tightening your grip on his chest so tightly that you hear the cracking of his ribs.

"Her ability to keep powers for 24 hours is unmatched. She’s almost indestructible. Almost as indestructible as you. She was so helpful in our development of our Temp V.” He exhales in one breath sharply, wincing in pain.

"What?" Shock grips you tight, holding you in place.

They used Rosemary for that? For the shit that Hughie and Butcher shoot up?

"The scientists at Vought couldn't figure out a way to temporarily give someone powers." Stan gasps. "But her blood was just what we needed to understand it."

"You took her blood?" You roar, the furniture in the room flipping back towards the door, crashing against the walls.

"She gave it to us. When I approached her she was adamant about not telling you. You were so against being a hero again and having her do anything connected to Vought.” He smiles around the holes in his mouth. "She agreed to help us if it meant leaving you alone. But-" Stan swallows again, gasping out another breath that sounds like a wheeze. "We were always watching. Always have been watching. There is no where you can escape us, no where you can go to get away from us. You think you're free?" Blood trickles over his dark lips and down his chin, but he continues to smile. "You never will be. And when your granddaughter finally develops her powers, she won't be either. Vought is already prepared for her, nothing can stop it."

Your face hardens at his mention of Lou, anger flaring deep in your soul, rational part of your mind no longer in control. There was no semblance of the control you were so proud of left.

You didn't know who you were anymore. All you knew was that this man had taken something from you, stripped you of what you were so long ago, and he would pay. Because you'd be damned if he was going to take Lou away too. If he really had already gotten to Rosemary, you'd failed her, but you wouldn't fail Lou.

You take in a breath, but the cold numbness is quickly coming to pick away at the heat of your rage, filling your chest cavity. "You've always been a snake, slithering your way to the top, choking the other people who challenged you, slimy, pathetic. You were afraid of Ben all those years. Cowered in the fucking shadows from his rage, afraid to speak, afraid that he would be your end. You were wrong Stan. You should have feared me instead. Because I am the end of you."

"Y/n please-"

But his next words are lost in the blood curdling scream that rips from his throat as his body begins to cave in on itself, the snapping of bone and the smell of blood filling the room as his limbs flatten and shrink into his body, ribcage caves in to his torso, his head crunching down into his neck until the thing that was Stan Edgar is nothing more than a soccer ball sized lump of flesh and ground bone, dropping to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

The flames lick at the walls behind you, steadily curving around the room as you stand there. Stan's blood is soaked into your hair, dripping down your cheeks, but the heady copper smell is obscured by the smoke that floods the room.

Despite it all you can't hear the sound of the flames, can't hear the sounds of the city below, can't feel the heat of the fire, can't feel the stickiness of the blood as it coats your cheeks. There's a buzzing your ears, that comes after Stan's death. An uncontrollable shudder shakes your body as you stand there in the ruined room, the cold feeling unfurling from the center of your chest like the petals of a flower. You can't feel anything, not rage, not shame, and definitely not remorse.

Because everything you know is a lie, everything you knew about Homelander, and now everything you knew about Rosemary. And if she hid that from you, what else had she lied about?

A/N: I did try to warn y'all. This chapter was a lot, and completely out of my comfort zone and I really miss writing the happy fluff 😭. But this chapter had to be done. And honestly… the reader's Homelander is showing. Somethings I think he may have inherited even though he was kept apart from her.

If you'd like to read something a little happier please try my series:

Take A Chance On Me

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

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[bvidzsoo]

Fine Line Of Our Worlds

Author: bvidzsoo

Warnings: cursing, suggestive

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Word count: 40,3k

Summary: Song Mingi didn't choose to become a Pirate, but after getting saved by the crew, he decided to stay. Nobody at home would miss him, they didn't like him much. However, he would miss his riches dearly, teeth always aching for gold and money. He was a little kleptomaniac, it's mostly why he was punished so often back at home. But here, with Ateez, he was free to do whatever and he loved the idea. You were also rich, very rich. You had ties to the royal family, but never said much about it since it was due to your mother's bloodline, who died giving birth to you. You were daddy's little girl, always getting whatever you wanted, never reprimanded for anything. But your life was boring, you were closed inside your mansion's walls all day long and the only people you could torment to have fun were your maids, who grew tired of your antics. Let's not forget the fact that you also loved stealing. It started out as a little talent of yours when you were just a child, but growing up you realized it became a very unconscious habit. And one night, Mingi seemed to come into your life just at the right moment, sweeping your off your feet, quite literally, and taking you onto a Pirate ship, your fates interlacing forever. (Reader is called Yoon Areum in the following oneshots.)

A/N: Oh, my God, my lovelies!!! I swear to GOD this was NEVER supposed to be this long I can't believe I wrote something THIS long, like I'm CRYING TEARS OF JOY. This is the longest and biggest oneshot I've EVER written and oh my God, idk what to do with myself anymore. I am so so curious what you all will think of it, so please, let me know your thoughts about this monster of a fic lol! I am really sorry for the super long wait for this part, but I believe nothing is accidental, and the timing is perfect for this fic as I'm sure months ago this story wouldn't have turned out like this, because I wasn't so feral for Song Mingi back then, LOL. Check out the previous parts if you haven't already, as they are tightly woven together! I hope you enjoy, and happy reading now!

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Series Masterlist ↭ Previous Part

            The light padding of feet echoed around in the quiet room as I pressed my head further against the pillow, irritated by the sudden disturbance. Then, the ring of a small bell and the sound of curtains being drawn apart, and a blinding light, which flooded my grandeur room. I groaned loudly and pulled the thick covers over my shivering form, eyebrows furrowing when that damned ringing wouldn’t stop. Who would dare interrupt my beauty sleep? Who would dare wake me up from a dream where a charming prince was just about to confess his everlasting love for me?!

“Miss Yoon, it’s almost noon,” A soft voice called out, the ringing of the bell finally gone, “Your father inquired about your whereabouts.”

I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut tighter, burying my head into the pillow even more. I didn’t want to get out of bed. It was so warm and comfortable. I wanted to sleep all day long and dream about a prince, which would finally whisk me away from this place and treat me like the royalty I am. Well…the royalty I would have been if my mother didn’t die and cause a rift between our family and hers. Certainly her being third cousin with the Queen would’ve granted us a spot in the palace. I would’ve very much liked that. To be pampered all day long with expensive things, living a lavished life without having to worry about anything. What a life that would’ve been. Instead, I was stuck in a golden decorated mansion where I suffered of bored all day long, and top of that, my two maids were incompetent too. If only father would sometimes listen to me…we wouldn’t be here still.

“Miss Yoon,” Another quiet voice said, “your father’s friends will be arriving soon, he doesn’t want you to miss greeting them.”

“I couldn’t care less about my father’s friends!” I hissed, sitting up abruptly, glaring at my two maids. They were shorter than me, and skinnier, their clothes clinging to their bodies in an uncomfortable way. I have offered some of my dresses to them, but them being ungrateful, refused to take them. If a warm-hearted woman like myself offered me a dress made of silk and littered with gems, I wouldn’t even think about refusing it. Not everyone was as generous as myself, the thought made me roll my eyes.

“Miss Yoon,” The blonde maid, Soyeon, said, “Sir Yoon asked me to let you know that the friends would be here in an hour.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that I wouldn’t get out of bed, but the black-haired maid, Soojin, cut me off before I could make a sound, “Your bath will get cold, Miss Yoon.”

I scoffed and leaned back into my pillows, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “I’m not getting out of bed today, get lost, you two.”

The maids said nothing as they fidgeted around, glancing at each other. I closed my eyes and hummed contently as my muscles grew soft once again, allowing the bed’s warmth to wrap me in a cocoon of comfort and serenity, which of course, didn’t last for long as one of the maid’s cleared their throat very quietly.

“Your breakfast will also get cold, Miss Yoon—”

“Fine!” I exclaimed and sat up with a glare, huffing as I threw the covers off myself, “Are you happy now?”

Before they could say anything, I got out of bed, almost tripping in the sheet as it had fallen to the floor, making the maids gasp as I quickly stood up straight, narrowing my eyes at them. They quickly looked away and I tsked, pulling the hair out of my eyes as I stepped into my fluffy slippers, and stormed past the two pathetic women, headed for my spacious bathroom. The walls and floor were a dark green marble, my favorite color, and the big window was opened to allow fresh air inside. The breeze was warm as I let my silky nightgown slip down my body, and I quickly got inside the bathtub which was decorated with golden accents, my father had made it specifically for me. I heard my maids hurrying inside the bathroom as I lowered myself further down in the warm water, wetting my hair and washing my eyes as I got above the surface, Soojin with the soap and sponge in her hands as she approached me. She didn’t look in my eyes as she started washing my body, and I rolled my eyes as Soyeon finally showed up with my breakfast.

I was starving.

Pancakes with maple syrup and blackberries were my favorite breakfast, our personal chef certainly knows me well. It’s like he read my mind that I was craving something sweet, but healthy, today.

“Are you going to wait until the night comes upon us?” I deadpanned as I looked at Soyeon, leaning forward when Soojin tried to wash my back without saying anything. Stupid girl, she couldn’t even use her mouth for a simple request.

“Apologies, Miss Yoon.” Soyeon slightly bowed her head and came near, getting on her knees to be at a more comfortable angle. I smiled at her widely as she raised the fork up towards my lips, pancake and blueberry on it. She certainly knew how I liked eating my favorite breakfast. I hummed as I closed my eyes and chewed the food, my mood instantly getting better. These two girls could perform their duties really well, they just needed little scolding and motivation from time to time. I sighed in contentment as Soyeon continued feeding me while Soojin thoroughly washed my body, not an ounce of grime on my skin. I hated being dirty, on rather hot days I would even bathe twice a day. The opened window allowed the warm breeze to waft inside, the crashing of the waves distant, but strong enough to be heard as our mansion was rather close to the beach. Once I was done with my breakfast, Soyeon handed me my cup filled with tea and I took a few sips, washing down the food, and enjoying the minty taste of it.

“Miss Yoon,” Soojin spoke up hesitantly as she washed my hair, voice quiet, “I overheard your father talking about a ball this morning—”

“A ball?!” I exclaimed, eyes shooting open as I sat up straight in the bathtub. A little water splashed over, Soyeon’s eyes stuck to it as she sighed quietly.

“It’s nothing certain, Miss Yoon, I don’t even know when it’ll be.” Soojin quickly explained, regret in her voice. If my father didn’t want me to know about it, then he had bad luck, because my loyal maids always told me everything that happened outside of my room’s doors.

“Soyeon, pick out my prettiest dress and prepare it for the ball!” I demanded, hissing when Soojin pulled on my scalp harshly with the towel. She quickly apologized and I rolled my eyes, Soyeon seeming lost as she looked at me before looking at Soojin.

“We don’t know when the ball will take place—”

“I said, prepare my dress for the ball.” I raised my eyebrows at her, daring her to disobey me. Soyeon quickly nodded as Soojin wrapped my hair in the towel, stepping aside to search for the one for my body. It was next to Soyeon, and she was quick to help out her fellow maid as she handed the towel to Soojin. I grinned with distaste, unimpressed by how eager they always were to help each other out. Yet, they would never helped me out, unless I demanded it. Two faced little demons is what they were, “Help me out.”

My voice was sweet as I raised my hand, halting Soojin’s movements. Soyeon’s eyes fell on me and I let a slow smile stretch onto my lips, eyebrows raised. She hesitated as she glanced at Soojin briefly, before taking a reluctant step towards me. I delicately raised my left arm too, barely placing my hand on Soyeon’s open palm. I didn’t necessarily like holding dirty things with my hands. I stood up and allowed Soyeon to guide me to my feet, eyes staying on my face as I stood naked in front of the two girls. I felt Soojin step closer from behind and wrap the towel around myself, my fingers tightening around Soyeon’s hand, a smirk forming on my lips. She looked down uncomfortably and that just allowed my next move to be easier than I thought it would be. I forcefully tugged on Soyeon’s hand, and suddenly, she was falling towards me with a loud cry. I released her hand as she fell in the bathtub, splashing water all over the floor and on the towel around my body. My amused expression dropped as I looked down at the girl with disgust, hand still in the air. She was gasping for air as she tried to get her hair out of her face, Soojin standing to the side with a shocked expression. When I glanced at her, she pressed her hands against her mouth and I rolled my eyes, stepping out of the bathtub. They certainly looked pathetic right now.

“Perhaps that taught you not to question when I say something, Soyeon.” My voice was cold as I turned around and took off towards the door, halting in the doorway, “Go get changed quickly, do you think Soojin is capable of braiding my hair the way I like it?”

“Yes, Miss Yoon, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Soyeon’s voice quivered as she hauled herself out of the bathtub, Soojin rushing to her side to help her out. I rolled my eyes and walked back inside my room, sitting at my vanity table as I looked out the window, a peculiar ship appearing on the horizon as it seemed to sail. Whether if it was coming towards our Kingdom or departing from it, I couldn’t tell, and I wondered what type of people were on it. Sailors, perhaps? But they were too far away from the shore, it couldn’t have been them. Or perhaps it was a merchant ship. Or maybe the Navy’s fleet. Oh, how handsome those soldiers were. Especially Lieutenant Kim. Pity he wasn’t rich or from an influential family, I would’ve long married him if that were the case, and of course, if my father wasn’t so overprotective of his little daughter. He barely let me out of his sight, even at my fragile age of nineteen. He was scared his little girl would get whisked away by some handsome man, and oh, how I wished for that to happen. But with my father always breathing down my neck and monitoring each step of mine, none of that was happening anytime soon. He had always thought his little friends were better, more mature, more respectful. But when he wasn’t looking our way, those old grimy men would send me flirty looks and whisper sweet nothings about a life lived in posh if I were to accept their proposals. But that’s not what I needed, nor wanted.

I wanted someone good looking. Someone, who was tall with sharp features and demanding eyes that made my heart race wildly. Someone, who made me forget my own name. Someone, who fell so madly in love with me that he’d worship the ground I walked on. That’s what I needed, and tons of money, of course, not some sticky fingers and fat old men who only wanted to taint my innocence. They thought they were sleek, but I was even sleeker. My eyes fell on the expensive watch placed on display on my vanity, making me chuckle to myself as I reached for it, tracing the leather with a finger. Lord Lee was still looking for it, pity he’d never ever again find it. I smirked as I reached over and opened my little chest filled with all the shiny goods I stole, although I prefer calling them borrowed, from my father’s business partners and friends. The floorboard creaking from behind made me look up, and through the mirror I saw Soojin walking inside my room, holding a pale blue dress. My eyebrows furrowed and I turned in my seat, tsking.

“Is that what you want me to wear to the ball?” My tone was snappy and skeptical as it made Soojin pause, eyes averted as she remained silent, “You can burn that old rag, I won’t wear it ever again.”

“Yes, Miss Yoon.” Soojin’s voice was small and as I continued looking at her, I could see the yearning in her eyes as her grip tightened around the fabric. I scoffed and faced my mirror again, Soyeon finally walking back inside, her clothes dry and hair disheveled as her eyes were red. God, this stupid girl had been crying again. These two maids were so sensitive, it was embarrassing at this point, “God, you two are so pathetic. I wonder why my father keeps you around still. I should just get a competent maid like the Queen has at her Palace.”

There was silence as Soyeon walked over, grabbing an oily lotion and putting it on her hands before she massaged it into my smooth hair, making me sigh in content as I closed my eyes. The floorboard creaked again and I figured Soojin was on her way to pick out a new dress, “You want to keep that old rag?”

Soyeon paused for a second before I felt her grabbing the brush from my vanity, making me open my eyes and hiss when the brush got tangled in the knots in my hair. I gave her a glare through the mirror as she bit her lower lip, embarrassed. If she cries another time I’d rather just jump out the window right now and save myself of this clownery.

“I cannot accept anything that was once Miss Yoon’s—”

“Oh, Lord,” I muttered with a groan, glaring at Soojin through the mirror, “Just keep that wrenched dress, nobody will have your head for it! I’m letting you wear it. Do you need anyone else to give you permission to do so?”

Soojin shook her head as she averted her eyes, and I hummed, settling back in my seat as Soyeon finally started braiding my hair, “Good, then stop whining and asking for attention and keep it.”

“Miss Yoon, your generosity is unlimited.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes at Soojin’s obvious flattery.

“Of course, it is.” I muttered and watched Soyeon through the mirror as my other maid disappeared back inside my huge closet filled with pretty dresses to the brim. Soyeon kept sniffing and avoiding eye contact as my stare turned insistent, but her hands worked diligently as she braided my hair the way I liked it. My curly hair was long as it reached the middle of my back and dense, making it hard for everyone but Soyeon to maneuver it any way she wanted to. Two curly front pieces were left alone to frame my face as the braided the rest from the sides, creating the impression of a small crown in my hair. She usually put gemstones in it and left the rest hang freely against my shoulders after she ruffled it up to make it fluffier looking. When she was done with my hair, I crossed my arms in front of my chest and threw her a glare, watching as her body visibly tensed.

“Did I mess up, Miss Yoon? Do you not like your hair?” Her voice was squeaky and I huffed.

“At least look me in the eyes when you speak to me, brat.” I snapped and Soyeon quickly looked up, her eyes filled with tears. I groaned loudly at her theatrics and leaned forward, opening my chest of stollen, borrowed, goods. The first pearl necklace that my eyes fell on belonged to a maiden from a charity event, and I grinned as I grabbed it, raising it up to my eyes to inspect it from up closer. Soyeon watched me through the mirror and I stood, turning around. I was almost two heads taller than her, “Take it and stop being a cry-baby. But don’t let my father know or he’ll have your hands for stealing it.”

“Is this—not yours, Miss Yoon?” Soyeon asked reluctantly as Soojin walked back inside the room, holding a gorgeous sage green dress that once belonged to my mother. I grinned as she raised the dress up, my eyes drinking in the lace and small flower designs on it. It would be perfect for the ball; I couldn’t wait to wear it now.

“Of course, it’s not mine, Soyeon. Do I wear such cheap jewelry such as this?” I chuckled and pressed the pearl necklace forcefully into my maid’s hands. These two knew about my little hobby of stealing from others, but I made them swear to never tell my father as he’d certainly punish me for doing such lowly things, and forbid me from going to balls and tea parties with the ladies from the neighboring houses. I couldn’t let that happen, I was already bored and dying every day in this boring mansion surrounded by servants and my father. I needed something which would bring life in me, excite me and show me what the world consisted of.

“I cannot accept this—”

“I said, take it, and stop crying so much.” I huffed and walked away, watching as the maid struggled not to drop the pearl necklace, “Get lost, now, I will change on my own.”

And it didn’t take long for the two maids to scramble out of my room, leaving me alone as I sighed loudly and walked inside my dressing room. The curtains were drawn but I opened them as I stared out the window again, longingly watching the ship in the distance as I grabbed my stockings to wear over my undergarments. What would a life on the sea feel like?

            After wearing a soft pink dress and making sure I looked presentable, I made my way to the gardens to greet my father first before we walked to the little fountain where his friends were gathered around, laughing about something inaudible to us. I plastered on my sweetest smile as my father gripped my arm slightly tighter, signaling that I should stand up even straighter. I chuckled, but cursed him in my head as the corset I was wearing was already constricting enough. If I stood any straighter it would dig into my flesh and make it bleed by the evening, but I obliged to my father’s wish as Mr. Lee noticed us and grinned like a Chesire cat. I hated that ugly man. He was always eating something, his fingertips greasy because of it, and he was greedy. All he saw were the assets he placed into something and how even the smallest business could bring more money to him. My father was blind to his schemes of trying to rob us, but thankfully, his smart little daughter was always there to convince him against doing business with Mr. Lee, and thus saving our legacy.

“Mr. Yoon!” Sir Oh exclaimed, an obnoxious and quite annoying man, waving happily towards us, “Lovely sunshine, we thought you’d never make it here today.”

The man around him laughed and I chuckled, although I wished to spit at them and press their heads under the water of the fountain. I hated it when they called me any names, and certainly Sir Oh was my least favorite as he found a stupid new nickname to call me by for each time he came to visit us.

“Friends, it’s been a while, hasn’t it been?” My father asked with a chuckle as he patted my hand, then released me, finally. It’s been exactly two weeks since these idiots have seen each other, yet they were being more dramatic about it than me and my tea party ladies would ever be.

“It certainly has been.” Mr. Yu, perhaps the man I hated most as he was quite unashamed with his advances towards me, and he was hitting the age of fifty. Who wanted a scrawny old man good for nothing but reading his newspaper and crying about the weather? Certainly not me, “Miss Yoon, just as beautiful as always.”

I chuckled as I masked my disgust, plastering on a fake smile, “You flatter me, Mr. Yu.”

My father chuckled and beckoned everyone over to the round table, asking us to sit down. I certainly did not want to be here and entertaining these fools, but I had no choice but to appease my father as he promised to buy me a ruby sometime next week, if I behaved well today. My little gemstone collection hadn’t been updated in long, it certainly was about time I got something new and shiny. A diamond would’ve been better, but my father said he couldn’t find one in our region just yet—how tragic. Before my father could sit, he seemed to remember something and he quickly excused himself, hurrying back towards the house. He left me alone with the wolves, and I remained collected as I watched his friends eyes taking me in closely. I chuckled and leaned back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. It didn’t help that the corset was already pushing up my breasts, sitting uncomfortable due to the metal digging into my waist.

“Lovely weather today, isn’t it, Mr. Yu?” I spoke up disinterested, but the men didn’t seem to notice as he went off about how the weather was lovely, the breeze just perfect, and the waves not too harsh if anyone wanted to go for a swim. And of course, the sun was just perfectly hot today, not strong enough to burn your skin, but enough to leave a nice tan. Good thing I didn’t expose much of myself, then.

“Any charming men on the horizon, Miss?” Sir Oh inquired with a small laugh, but it was easy to see the curiosity on his face as he leaned forward in his seat, eyes twinkling. Of course, to men like him it didn’t matter that a wife and three children were waiting for him to return home. All he cared about was young flesh for a night, something to satiate his needs and reassure him that he’s still got in him, that he was still capable of charming ladies left and right. It was sad how Sir Oh failed to notice that it was just his money drawing in clueless ladies, ready to extort him of it. It was rather hilarious, yet disgusting at the same time.

“Tell me, Sir Oh, what can you see on the horizon?” I raised my eyebrows as all three men across me turned their heads towards the sea, which was perfectly visible from our veranda overlooking it. I didn’t have to look to know that the ship was still there. I smirked as they remained silent, telling that they didn’t know more than I did.

“You must have surely heard of pirates before, Miss Yoon.” Mr. Lee said mystically, head turning to look me in the eyes, “There’s rumor that Ateez had sailed close to our shores—”

“Ah, nonsense!” Mr. Yu exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed, “There’s no such thing as those dirty criminals nearing our shores. The Navy fleet will take them out in no second!”

“I wouldn’t bet too much on that, Mr. Yu.” Mr. Lee chuckled, his eyes traveling back onto the sea. Intrigued, I also looked towards the sea, eyes finding the ship in the distance. Pirates, they say? Doesn’t that sound exciting? I grinned as I imagined what they must look like and what they might want from our humble town. Surely if they were looking for our Queen, then they were in the wrong spot. Our Queen was miles away from us, unfortunately.

“Are these so-called pirates dangerous?” I asked with feigned ignorance, and Mr. Lee snorted as if I had asked a hilarious question. I refrained from glaring at him as I turned my head to face the men again.

“Dangerous?! Pray they never find a young woman like yourself and ravage you.” My glare was instant as I didn’t even try to hide it, jaw clenching at Mr. Lee’s blatant offensive remark. He had no shame, it was disgusting.

“Mr. Lee!” Sir Oh exclaimed, looking alarmed, “Apologize to Miss Yoon, right now!”

Mr. Yu looked just as appalled, acting as if he hadn’t tried sleeping with me not even one week ago. It still made my skin crawl as I bit back a snarl, raising my eyebrows at Mr. Lee.

“My apologies, Miss Yoon, that was harsh—”

“It merely mirrors your own thoughts, Mr. Lee.” I cut him off with a spiteful glare and the men looked shocked for a second as my face morphed into pure hatred, “You all act like saints in front of my father, and then you try to have your way with me behind his back. Pathetic, especially if your wives were to know.”

The men remained gaping as I stood up, plastering on a wide smile when I heard the clanking of cups against a tray coming from behind. My father must’ve gone back to ask the servants to bring tea and cookies. The three men in front of me struggled to gathered themselves and fix their expressions, but when my father appeared next to me, they quickly did so. I gave them a look before turning to face my father.

“Papa, all this sitting in the sun is making me feel lightheaded,” I made my voice sound soft and weak as I pouted, grabbing my father’s hand, “Would you mind if I were to excuse myself?”

“My dear, not at all!” He exclaimed and pressed a palm against my forehead alarmed, “You’re burning up, head inside quickly!”

“Thank you, papa.” I pressed a kiss against my father’s cheek and he squeezed my hand reassuringly before turning to face a servant, Shindong.

“Please, walk my daughter back to her room.” My father instructed softly, “Make sure she has enough water and ask the cook to prepare soup for her. Let her maids know about her early return too, Shindong. Thank you.”

The servant bowed his head and extended a hand towards me, prompting me to hold his gloved hand as he helped me away from the chair and around the table. I knocked my leg into the foot of Mr. Yu’s chair as I passed behind him, acting as if I stumbled a bit. I leaned down and grabbed a silver spoon from the ground, which obviously wasn’t there but I had grabbed it off the tray before Shindong could realize, and pretended to pick it up.

“Mr. Yu, when did you drop this?” I asked with confusion as I held the spoon in my hand, eyebrows furrowed. Minhyuk, the servant who was setting the table looked alarmed for a second, counting the spoons on the table and the ones still on his tray, looking lost as he looked at the one I was holding. I tried to bite down my smirk, amused by their confusion as to how the spoon landed on the ground when one hadn’t even been served to Mr. Yu yet.

“Oh, thank you, dear.” Our fingers touched and I suppressed the shiver threatening to shake my body, Shindong gingerly holding my hand as I bowed my head lightly, swiftly pulling my hand back from Mr. Yu’s. My father shooed Shindong and I away, and I happily obliged as the servant walked us back towards the house, my fist hidden behind my back as the weight of a silver ring laid heavily in my hand. Away from everyone, I allowed the smirk to finally plaster on my face as I yanked my hand out of Shindong’s, raising the silver ring up Mr. Yu had on his finger a few seconds ago. Shindong gave me a small glance, but remained silent as he lead the way back to my room, telling me that Soojin and Soyeon would be soon here if I needed anything. I entered my room without saying anything, inspecting the huge ruby molded into the silver. I didn’t have to wait another week to get my hands on a ruby, after all. Maybe Mr. Yu was good for something.

            The day seemed to drag on after I returned to my room, jumping on my fluffy bed face down and groaning loudly as the waves crashing against the rocks echoed inside my room through the opened window. It was indeed a lovely day and I found myself craving to go on a walk, but with my father’s friends here, I couldn’t go, because my father never allowed me to leave the mansion without him by my side. I could’ve gone with one of the servants, or even guards, but he never trusted them enough to let me out with them. Or maybe Shindong had snitched on me after the few rare occasions I was allowed to go outside with the guards as I have disappeared for a few hours. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, so I didn’t understand their distress and my father’s anger and concern when he came storming inside my room and yelling at me that I was to stay in my room for the next week. It was horrible, but with the help of my maids, I did manage to sneak out to the gardens every night, laying in the soft grass and gazing at the bright stars, daydreaming about a life where a rich prince whisked me away on his white horse. The reason why I even disappeared for a few hours was simple, and many would’ve laughed at it, not punished their child for it. I just wanted to buy some pastries and roam the cobblestone covered roads of our buzzing town, later headed to the beach to take a quick swim. But my father couldn’t look past his worry and anger to realize that I was merely craving some fun and freedom from his close watch.

But I knew how to use my father’s friends being here to my advantage, and after changing into a dress lighter than the one I wore in the morning, I tied my hair in a low bun and sneaked out of my room. There were few times when I was allowed to read whatever that wasn’t essential to my education, and so I skipped my way towards the library, hiding from the servants who’d roam the halls as they were headed to their duties. I knew if Shindong saw me he’d snitch to my father, that loyal bastard. He was very good at his job, but perhaps too good as he was my father’s second eyes, never failing to notice any missteps I had taken. At least he was smart enough to keep it to himself when he caught me borrowing goods from others. I knew my maids were looking for me, Soyeon’s desperate calls quiet as they carried down the empty hallways, prompting me on to do better and hide so that they wouldn’t find me. And my plan of reading in the library from the forbidden section, which were actually my mother’s most favorite romance novels, turned into me playing hide and seek with my very desperate sounding maids as they ran mindlessly up and down the hallways, searching every room as I stood hidden behind curtains, trying to contain my giggles. However, my fun was short lived when Minhyuk easily found me, his lips pulled into an amused smile. He was barely twenty-five and we were never allowed to be in the same chambers on our own, but my father was apparently looking for me, and Minhyuk was the first one to find me. I stuck my tongue out at him as he lead the way towards my father’s study room, ushering me inside with a chuckle when I threw him a glare.

“You had called for me, papa?” I asked with a sweet smile, voice soft as it carried around in the quiet room. My father hummed as his eyes raised from the map he was inspecting, suddenly looking tired. His foolish friends must’ve tired him out with their stupid stories.

“Did you happen to see a silver ruby ring, by chance, my dear?” My eyebrows furrowed as I jutted my lower lips out innocently, and shook my head no, “I understand, thank you, my dear. Mr. Yu swears he lost his ring here somewhere, but we both know that man is just simply forgetful.”

“And old and ugly.” I muttered under my breath with a sneer, which was quickly gone when my father looked at me with raised eyebrows. I fixed my expression and smiled sweetly at him.

“Oh, papa, don’t you wish to go on a walk with your dear daughter?” I asked as I walked closer to him, letting my hand rest on his as I leaned against his sturdy desk, “We’ve still got a few hours before sunset, it would be lovely to take a walk on the beach. You look tired, the fresh and warm breeze will do you good, papa.”

My father smiled and hummed, turning his hand around to grab mine in his, squeezing our hands together, “You are just as bewitching as your mother once was, my dear. But I must refuse your proposal, I’m afraid.”

“But papa—” My whiney voice got cut off by my father’s chuckle, shaking his head as he released my hand and pushed his chair back.

“You didn’t let me finish, my dear.” He grinned as a mischievous look appeared on his face, making my eyebrows raise in curiosity, “We’ve been invited to Mrs. Boo’s ball, you might want to get ready for that—”

I squealed loudly as I leaped at my father and pressed a kiss against his cheek, twirling around in his spacious study as my heartbeat quickened. So my stupid maids were right, after all! And I didn’t even have to wait much more until we’d get to attend the ball, this was like a blessing, “Papa! I must get ready then! It’s been too long since we’ve been to a ball—and oh, the balls organized by Mrs. Boo are always so—majestic.”

My father chuckled as he listened to me ranting, just nodding his head as I hurried towards his door, “See you before sunset, father. I shall be ready by then!”

“You better or else you’ll be staying here.” His threat was empty, but I still pretended to be scared as I clumsily saluted him, making my father laugh as I left his study in a hurry, running down the hallways to reach my room as fast as I could.

“Soojin! Soyeon!” I shouted as I passed by the kitchens, where these two seemed to spend most of their time if they weren’t with me, “I’m going to a ball tonight!”

            And the preparations for the ball took time, because everything had to be perfect. Even the curls in my hair had to sit perfectly, enhanced by Soyeon as we decided to let my hair fall freely tonight, barely braiding a few strands at the sides, which she clipped back so that the front pieces would frame my face nicely, enhancing my sharp cheekbones. Soojin helped by adding blush to my cheeks, which looked absolutely lovely as it complimented by sun kissed complexion and the lip tint was a dark cherry color, making my lips pop with color. A little bit of glitter had been added to my eyelids and I stood proudly in my dressing room, twirling around in front of the big mirror, admiring the way the sage green dress complemented my frame and skin complexion. The skirt was big and made me feel like a princess, the corset underneath tightly pulled together to keep my posture straight at all times. It got restricting after a while, lungs feeling like they were compressed, but I sucked it up and plastered on a smile despite the growing discomfort if I had to sit rather than stand. The top of the dress was off-shoulders and had long, loose sleeves, and the fabric around my breasts was held together by strings, similar to my corset as lace decorated the surface of it. With sunset nearing, and feeling pleased by my appearance, I headed to the front gates of the mansion, and got inside our little carriage as my father was already there and waiting for me. His eyes widened when I sat across from him and they filled with tears, making me confused as my first thought was that I didn’t look sufficiently good enough for tonight’s ball. I adjusted the golden necklace around my neck uncomfortably, waiting for my father to speak up first.

“You look stunning, my dear.” He whispered before sniffing loudly, looking out the window of the carriage, “Your mother wore this dress the day we met—I didn’t even know you had it.”

I cleared my throat and shrugged, looking down at my hands, “I had visited her chambers not too long ago. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, my dear.” My father quickly reassured me as he reached out for my hand, “She would absolutely love seeing you wearing it, and I am happy as well. You truly did inherit all of her beauty.”

I chuckled as I became shy, lightly bowing my head in gratitude, “In that case, I can’t wait to meet my own rich husband, soon, hopefully.”

My father’s face became grim and he hummed, looking all of a sudden disinterested in the conversation. Of course he did, he always did this when I brought up the subject of husband or even just a simple suitor, “Focus on your studies for now, my dear. Men come and go, but your virtue stays.”

“You always say that, papa.” I mumbled with a sigh and my father tsked.

“A lady does not mumble; she speaks well and clearly. And I always say that because I know what men are like, and until the day you find a man who’s worthy of you, I shall continue deterring the bad wolves away from my little princess. Understand, my dear?”

I hummed with a pout and looked at my father with slight irritation, unable to slump against the plush seat of the carriage due to the corset I was wearing, “Yes, I do, papa. I hear this at least twice a week.”

“Very well,” My father looked amused as he retreated his hand from mine and sat back with a pleased expression, “It means you’ll never forget it.”

And I had remained silent as the carriage finally took off, and for the rest of the ride as well. I couldn’t say that I was mad at my father, but I could still resent him a little bit for keeping me away from every man that I showed even the slightest interest in me. It seemed like nobody was worthy enough. And even when they were, my father somehow managed to find some dirt about them and scare them away, consoling me that he was only showing me the dark side, the secrets these suitors were trying to hide from me. But perhaps, if my father allowed them enough time to stick around for longer, they would’ve told me themselves of these missteps they have taken along the way. Nobody was perfect, despite my desires to believe so, and as long as they had enough money, I could overlook some of their flaws.

The carriage ride didn’t take too long as Mrs. Boo and her family lived quite close to us. I could hear the music from outside the gates already as we have finally stopped moving, and got out of the carriage. My father helped me down and then crossed his arm with mine, keeping me close to himself so that I wouldn’t slip away. I knew it would take only a few glasses of champagne for me to be able to do so anyways, perhaps even faster if the people he knew came over to talk to my father. Most of the times they talked about things that were none of my concerns, and therefore I was allowed to roam around the place as long as my father could see me. And I did just that as we entered the marble covered vast chamber of Mrs. Boo’s family, her ballroom. It was spectacular, like every time, decorated in burgundy and golden accents. It screamed prestige and money, and I was pleased to see that I was the best dressed out of all the young ladies attending the ball tonight. It always brought pleasure and pride to me when I was the prettiest at these events, and it was only proven right when I noticed the jealousy in the other ladies eyes as my father and I walked by them. I grinned at them and mockingly waved, curling my fingers before ignoring them completely. We were barely inside, yet my father already had a glass of champagne in his hands as we were headed towards Mrs. Boo to greet her and thank her for inviting us. I put on my best smile as we arrived in front of her, her puffy cheeks disturbingly pink. Her makeup choices had always been questionable.

“Oh, Mr. and Miss Yoon.” She said delighted as she clapped her hands once, “Lovely seeing you made it.”

“My daughter would have had my head if I dared skipping tonight’s ball.” My father said cordially and I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“The decoration is marvelous, Mrs. Boo, you never fail to amaze me.” I complimented the woman, knowing how much she liked hearing such words. Besides, I knew it meant I would get invited to her next tea party and that was exactly what I was hoping for.

“Thank you, lovely.” She chuckled as she looked past us, her eyes narrowing slightly before she composed her expression quickly. It didn’t take long to realize it was because her son was coming over, face a constant mask of judgement. The two of us had nothing against each other, Seungkwan could be a pleasant companion if he put in a little effort, but otherwise the man was too nagging and posh for my taste. He couldn’t even pull the chair out for himself, let alone for his lover.

“Ah, Junior.” My father chuckled as Seungkwan came to a stop next to his mother, and he released my arm to shake Seungkwan’s hand. I smiled as Seungkwan kissed my hand next, curtsying to him in return.

“It’s been a while, Miss Yoon.”  He said cordially and I hummed, smile fixed on my face.

“Indeed, I see you’re just as healthy as always.” I noted, and Seungkwan’s mother laughed as she patted her son’s shoulder.

“Of course, he is. There isn’t a day my boy doesn’t eat his vegetables.” I nodded in understanding, but didn’t miss the way Seungkwan almost rolled his eyes, “Mr. Yoon, should we leave the young ones alone? I’m not sure you have met Sir Bae yet, father of the Navy fleet’s commandant?”

My father’s eyes widened and he threw me one small glance before he was agreeing to walk with Mrs. Boo, interested in expanding his friend and business list. I scoffed and stepped next to Seungkwan, facing the crowd as we both looked at the dancing people in front of us.

“He’s still breathing down your neck?” Seungkwan asked, finally dropping that irritatingly sweet tone of his. I chuckled and crossed my arms in front of my chest, stealing a grape first from the tray next to me on the table.

“Obviously, I should buy your mother something generous for always seemingly stealing him away at balls like these.” Seungkwan threw me an amused glance before stealing a grape from my hand. I threw him a glare and quickly ate the rest.

“Of course she does. She keeps saying you’ll never find a man if he keeps breathing down your neck.” I chuckled and turned to face Seungkwan.

“And how right she is,” I pinched his cheek teasingly, making him snap my hand away, “Did she play matchmaker again? Where’s your lady for the night?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Seungkwan looked uncomfortable as I chuckled and smirked at him, “She thankfully didn’t have the time to find anyone for the ball, so I’m on my own tonight.”

“Poor you.” I teased and Seungkwan threw me a swift glare as suddenly a man was headed our way. My heart skipped a beat as I straightened my stance, and plastered on a sweet smile on my lips, eyes falling on the tall body of Lieutenant Kim. His body was adorned in his uniform, form lean and strong as the well-worked muscles bulged through the fabric just slightly. His short black hair was swept back, leaving his forehead on display, and I tried to hide my blush at the dashing smile he sent our way. His canines poked through and his cherry-red lips looked soft, complimenting his gorgeous tan skin. Kim Mingyu was a dreamy man, hardworking, and dedicated. He was respectful and extremely smart, and quick on his feet. Every man envied him. He could have anyone he wanted, yet he chose to dedicate his life to the Navy—after I turned him down. Many had called me crazy, but my father was glad. He said Mingyu wasn’t who he portrayed himself to be, and even if that were true, that wasn’t the reason I didn’t want to marry him. Despite his looks and personality, he never actually managed to sweep me off my feet. He never stole my breath away, and he never made me yearn for him. And if love wasn’t like that, I didn’t want it. And I wouldn’t stop until I found this type of love, ethereal, everlasting.

“Good evening,” Kim Mingyu bowed his head, making Seungkwan chuckle, “Mr. Boo. Miss Yoon.”

I giggled quietly when he grabbed my hand with his big one, pressing a lasting kiss against my knuckles as he held eye contact, making Seungkwan scoff next to us.

“The girl rejected you once, Mingyu, what are you doing?” Seungkwan teased his best friend lightly and I chuckled embarrassed, subtly elbowing the man in the ribs. Mingyu had a similar blush on his cheeks to mine as he cleared his throat and threw a warning glare at his friend.

“I’m merely greeting her the way a man is supposed to, Seungkwan, jealous?” The banter between the two was natural, their love language full of teasing and nagging each other.

“You wish I were.” Seungkwan chuckled and whisked away three glasses of champagne from a tray as a servant passed by with it. I made sure my father wasn’t looking as I accepted one, clanking my glass against the other two men’s.

“How are you feeling tonight, Miss Yoon?” Mingyu looked at me and I hummed, looking over the dancing crowd, an idea occurring in my mind. I looked back at the tall man with a grin and pressed my glass of champagne into Seungkwan’s chest.

“I would be doing a lot better if a handsome man cared to ask me to dance.” The cheeky smile kicked Mingyu into action as he pressed his own glass into Seungkwan’s chest, making him groan. Mingyu took my hand tenderly and gestured towards the dance floor.

“May I, then?” He asked dashingly, his smile leaving me a blushing mess once again. I chuckled, out of embarrassment, and then nodded as he lead us towards the dancing crowd.

“Of course, leave me all by myself, you two!” Seungkwan called after us, but didn’t seem too sad as he got to drink not only his champagne, but ours too. Mingyu lead us towards the end of the room, where the crowd wasn’t so dense, and where my father couldn’t see us well, and I chuckled. Mingyu knew about my father’s rules as I have told him once, and he always enjoyed breaking them, angering my father a little each time. Perhaps that was the reason why he didn’t like Mingyu. Mingyu’s calloused hand took a firm hold of my waist as his other held my hand gingerly, and I allowed my hand to rest against his firm shoulder, the fabric soft under my tender touch.

“You look gorgeous, Miss Yoon.” Mingyu said, sounding almost breathless as he looked down at me. I chuckled and bowed my head slightly as I followed Mingyu’s lead, the orchestra playing a slow and lovely song.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Kim, you have been certainly turning heads as well tonight.” Mingyu laughed as he nodded, looking over the crowd. He was taller than most people in here, even in my heels, the top of my head barely reached above his eyes.

“I have noticed,” He said as his eyes fell back on me, and I raised an eyebrow teasingly, “But my eyes were only on you the whole time, Miss Yoon.”

I didn’t mean to blush as hard as I did, and Mingyu chuckled, squeezing my waist for a second as I cleared my throat, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. Averting my eyes to avoid blushing even more, I looked at the beautiful necklace hidden beneath Mingyu’s uniform’s collar, and I found my fingers absentmindedly toying with the gold. Mingyu didn’t seem to mind as he hummed along to the music, swaying us expertly to it. I looked around and noticed my father glaring in our direction furiously before Mrs. Boo noticed as well and whisked him away, pulling him towards a smaller crowd of both men and women, who seemed to be deep in discussion. Mrs. Boo and I made eye contact and she winked sneakily, making me grin as I looked back at Mingyu. He was already looking down at me and I cleared my throat.

“How were your days lately? Is the job demanding?” I made conversation, genuinely curious of Mingyu’s wellbeing. Mingyu’s lower lip jutted out as he hummed and maneuvered us around a couple almost strategically, so that we wouldn’t crash into them. They apologized before continuing on dancing.

“I’m afraid my job will be always demanding,” Mingyu started with a little smile, “but I enjoy it, so I can’t whine about it too much. It’s been quiet, the waters, I mean…until these past few days.”

“What happened?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing. The orchestra changed the pace and I followed Mingyu as his long legs moved faster, steps still careful so that he wouldn’t step on my heeled toes.

“An unidentified ship has been seen on the horizon,” Mingyu explained, and my eyebrows raised as I suddenly remembered what Mr. Yu had said earlier today, “We can’t really do much if they don’t trespass the border, but we’ve been keeping an eye on them—”

“Do you think they could be pirates?” I didn’t mean to cut the Lieutenant off, but in my excitement I forgot I wasn’t supposed to be this eager when speaking about pirates, so, I quickly fixed my expression as Mingyu looked at me perplexed for a second.

“We know they are pirates, but, Miss Yoon…how would you know that?” Mingyu looked slightly alarmed as he lowered his voice and I just shrugged, looking off to the side.

“Word travels fast around here, you shouldn’t be so surprised, Lieutenant.” I gave him a teasing wink and Mingyu chuckled, opening his mouth to say something, when a loud crashing sound disturbed the ambivalence of the room, people gasping and turning their heads to look at where the sound came from. Curios myself, I quickly turned my head around, only to be met with an unfortunate scene. A servant lay on the floor with a tray full of dessert scattered around him, delicious looking sweets now ruined and uneatable. However, what caught my attention was the peculiar actions of the man crouched down next to the servant, who was scrambling around to put everything back on the tray. I could see the profile of the unknown man as he grinned at the servant, mumbling something to him before stealing a cherry off the tray, making the few ladies still watching gasp as he ate it. My eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched up at the action, but the man seemed not to care that the cherry had been on the dirty floor just seconds ago. As he stood up, I was taken aback by his height. Perhaps he lacked a few centimeters compared to Mingyu, but he was still toweringly tall. He cleared his throat and fixed the collar of his long, black, velvet coat, sweeping his hands through his long, blonde hair. My eyes followed the action and remained fixed on the stranger’s ringer clad fingers, the jewelry huge, shiny, and expensive looking. His whole outfit looked expensive, but I didn’t get the chance to have a better look at it as he patted the servant on the back and waltzed off like nothing had happened, his shoulders broad as he had a looming figure.

“Miss Yoon?” My head snapped back around, looking wide eyed at Mingyu as his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Excuse me, I got distracted.” I admitted and quickly cleared my throat, suddenly not in the mood to dance with the Lieutenant anymore. Who was this stranger? I knew everyone who frequented Mrs. Boo’s balls, so who was this mysterious man? My heart skipped a beat at the thought of a new person having moved into town, young and rich. If he was handsome too, I might have just hit the jackpot.

“I was just asking if you got startled.” Mingyu said, bringing me out of my thoughts once again. I plastered on a fake smile and brushed him off.

“Of course, I got startled,” I chuckled and lightly pushed myself away from Mingyu, “Excuse me, but I must hydrate myself now, it’s becoming too warm in here.”

Mingyu looked disappointed as he was forced to let go of me, bowing his head slightly before he led us out of the crowd, saying something, but I wasn’t paying attention to him anymore as I was looking around, eyes searching for the blonde, tall man.

            And my night went on just like that, searching the crowd relentlessly for the stranger, yet never quite finding him. I was only able to catch glimpses of him, he moved as if he was a ghost, gliding through the crowd as if he was trying to evade the people. It was becoming frustrating, and it got even worse when my father found me and demanded I remain by his side as he was unimpressed by me dancing with Mingyu. I said nothing and did as was told, sneakily drinking some more champagne when my father found himself in heated debates about things I wasn’t interested in. But my curiosity sparked even more as I heard a raspy, deep voice laughing not too far from us, the deep baritone carried over even the music. I tried not to be too obvious as I craned my neck and looked around for the voice, eyes widening when they fell on the stranger. He was merely a few feet away, talking to some ladies. He was leaning against a tall table, his fingers circling the rim of his champagne glass as he played with it, red lips pulled into a charming smile. I gulped as my eyes took in every curve of his face, his tall nose and his sharp eyes, his defined cheekbones and a jawline that was very sharp. His eyebrows were thick, but they complimented his features nicely, and his skin looked slightly burnt, like he had been out in the sun excessively. His blonde hair was long and brushed back behind his ears, the roots barely showing. I could see the way the ladies he was talking to were trying to push their chests our even more than their corsets already did for them, and it was hard to miss their blatant flirting as they tried to touch his hand at any given chance. My eyes narrowed as I watched the interaction, every nerve in my body begging me to walk over and introduce myself to the stranger, to earn his undivided attention. My eyes soaked him in, taking in his black outfit, the velvet clinging to his toned body, and I was startled to find he wore nothing underneath his black vest, a vest that didn’t even reach the waistband of his velvet pants. It was a scandalous outfit, too daring, and it was obviously gaining more and more attention as men glared at the stranger and ladies tried to approach him. Perhaps that was the point, to draw attention to himself, and it was working.

I gulped as I watched his lips move, pulled into a smirk as he reached out and fixed the hair of one of the young girl’s, and it made me scoff as I was aware of what he was doing. What I didn’t expect was the way his eyes snapped to me, as if he knew where he had to look, who he had to look at. My eyes widened slightly, but I didn’t avert my gaze as his remained fixed on me, raising an eyebrow just slightly. I misjudged the distance between us as he very well heard my scoff, and now he was taking me in, a challenging glint in his eyes. My fingers tightened around the glass I was holding and I smirked as I brough the glass up to my lips, taking a sip as the man smirked back, subtly tilting his glass in my direction. Our little exchange caught the attention of the ladies he was with and as they looked at me, they scowled and sent glares my way. I didn’t care, nothing mattered as I was enticed by the handsome stranger, features unique, quickly engraved into my brain.

But our little moment was broken the second a very drunken Sir Oh loudly called out, weaving towards me with his wife on his side, “Little sunshine!”

I tried not to grit my teeth as I was forced to look away from the stranger, but thankfully my father didn’t see the exchange between the two of us as he suddenly started ignoring the man trying to convince him that investing into diamonds was smart as he went to hug Sir Oh, as if they haven’t seen each other just hours ago. I sneaked a subtle glance towards the stranger, but he was gone, and I couldn’t help but feel disappointed as I sighed loudly, suddenly wishing to go home…or just leave this party.

             And leave the party I did, of course, after making sure my father was drunk enough to not notice his little princess slipping away. There was nothing enjoyable about the ball anymore. All the men were boring and they only wanted one thing…to get into my good graces, because I come from a well-off family. But they were boring and quite ugly, most of them on poorer side too. I had no interest in listening to their fake stories about all the things they haven’t actually done, but were saying just to try and impress me. I’ve been looking out for the handsome stranger all night long, but I never caught a glimpse of him again. It’s like he suddenly vanished, gone as quickly as he had come. It was disheartening, and I found myself pouting at a boy not even my age, who was boasting about visiting the royal castle and seeing the Queen.

“She is majestic, just like in the stories. Her eyes sparkle, and her crown is filled with diamonds—” I couldn’t listen to him anymore as I scoffed.

“And does Her Majesty drink her tea at five o’clock like everyone else does? Are her dresses of the latest trends made of silk and wool? Please, I am directly linked to the Queen, do you think I haven’t met her already? Talked to her, and spent my days with her?” My tone was snappy, the continuous glasses of champagne I kept sipping on made my world hazy, I couldn’t filter my words like I would usually do so, “Save yourself the grace and get lost, little boy.”

The man standing across me gasped, looking appalled before he turned around, pushing his nose high up in the air. I scoffed and reached forward with a smirk on my face, fingers delicately latching onto the golden chain hanging out of his pocket carelessly. Perhaps this boy should be more careful with his belongings.

And after that, I just slipped through the crowd, making sure I didn’t linger long enough for anyone to notice who I was and where I was headed to. I took a final glance towards my father before I quickly hurried through the wide doors of the ballroom, barely avoiding running into Seungkwan. But it seemed like he didn’t notice me slipping away, and so, with a smile on my face, I was quickly headed towards the outside with one goal in mind. Leave the Boo estate and go find something fun to do for the remaining of the night. I couldn’t tell what time it was exactly, not that it mattered judged by the slight hammering of my head and the haze surrounding my thoughts, and the dizziness clouding my vision. People threw curious glances at me as they noticed me walking without my father, but I just ignored them and smiled widely once I had reached the front gates. The two guardians looked at me with confusion written all over their faces as they shared a glance.

“Miss Yoon, everything alright?” One of them asked, and I smiled sweetly as I nodded wordlessly.

“Leaving without your father?” The other one inquired, crocking an eyebrow. I chuckled and subtly pushed my chest out, not missing the way their gazes fixated on the exposed skin of my collarbones.

“He’ll be here in a moment,” I spoke up, voice sickly sweet as I smiled charmingly at them, “I will go ahead and find our carriage.”

“But Miss Yoon—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” I tsked and shook my finger at the two bewildered men, “I am very capable of being on my own, gentlemen, don’t you think so?”

They said nothing as they shared a look, but ultimately allowed me to walk past as they sighed in unison, shrugging. I flashed them another wide smile and took off, giggling as my feet carried me towards the unknown, enjoying the warm salty breeze of the night, the waves crashing against the huge rocks loud as I was closer to the cliffs here. I took a glance behind myself, making sure nobody was following me, before I stopped to take a deep breath, closing my eyes. Freedom has never felt so good before, and I couldn’t help but raise my arms in the air and twirl around while chuckling, watching the way the skirt of the dress swirled around with me. But perhaps twirling around wasn’t a smart idea when your world was already spinning, and I came to an abrupt stop as nausea suddenly washed over me, making my eyebrows furrow as bile raised in my throat. There was absolutely no chance that a lady, a princess, like myself would throw up, therefore I took three deep breaths and anchored myself. No sudden actions should make this fine. I nodded to myself and took off again, headed to the town square, where I knew some pubs would be still open at this hour. Perhaps going to a pub alone, a beautiful woman like myself, wasn’t the brightest idea, but I wanted to see what it was like. I’ve never been to one, I only heard stories from the ladies I spent the tea parties with. I wanted to experience the same fun they had each time when going to a pub, I wanted to meet new people and perhaps…find a suitor. That was all I needed to remember the handsome stranger, and I couldn’t help but blush as I remembered his sharp eyes holding eye contact with me, his plush lips curling up into a dashing smirk, glint playful in his eyes. Everything about him screamed confidence, and I couldn’t help but giggle as I envisioned him sweeping me off my feet, carrying me effortlessly in his strong arms.

My journey came to a quick stop as Mrs. Boo didn’t leave too far from the square, and my attention was easily taken by the loud pub from the corner of the street. The lights were on inside and music poured out through the open door, very different from the soft music the orchestra had played at Mrs. Boo’s ball. The music was livelier here, heavier and louder, I found myself liking it as I approached the pub, taking in the exterior of it. The bricks were white and the windows sparkling, the dim lighting of the place pouring outside. A man stumbled through the doors clumsily, clutching his hat to his chest as he mumbled incoherent things to himself. His eyes fell on me as he looked up, and his face looked funny. It was oddly red and his eyes looked crisscrossed as he tipped his head in my direction, making me frown at him. The stench coming off him was disgusting and I quickly walked past him, marching inside the pub. The music got louder now that I was inside, but it wasn’t unbearable, you could still overhear the conversations people had…maybe because almost everyone was shouting. There was a weird smell in the air, and I covered my nose as I walked further inside, looking for a free table. Most were occupied by men and women, gathered around in large groups. The dim lightning and the weird smell made my head spin more, but I was proud of myself that I managed to walk in a straight line, eyes set on the free table towards the back of the pub. In my tipsy state, I missed the curious or hungry gazes sent my way, men watching me like haws, women scowling at me, acting as if I was here to steal their men.

When I finally reached the table, I gripped the chair and pulled it back, surprised by its heaviness as it dragged loudly against the wooden floorboards, but thankfully the music was loud enough to mask the atrocious sound. Despite being—probably—tipsy, I managed to sit down graciously, adjusting the skirt of my dress so that nobody would step on it and that I wouldn’t pull a string loose. The dress was dear to me, after all, it once belonged to my deceased mother. And it is also a very pretty, and pricey, dress. The corset seemed to get tighter for a second as I found myself gasping for air, eyebrows furrowing as I straightened my back to the point my back muscles were numb. I couldn’t dwell on the sudden ache for much longer as someone approached the table, looking rather perplexed by my presence here.

“Miss,” It was a young boy, perhaps fifteen, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” I fired back, raising my eyebrows unimpressed.

“I work here.” He answered, looking away for a second, “And if you sit down then you must order something as well.”

“Fine,” I huffed, looking around the place. I had definitely seen worse places before, they certainly must have something that is worth my money here, “Bring me your finest wine, then.”

“Can you afford it?” I was appalled by the blatant mockery in the young boy’s tone, eyebrows raised and expression demanding as I snorted loudly, digging my hand down the front of my dress, between my breasts. The boy’s eyes widened and he quickly averted his eyes, cheeks flushing. I rolled my eyes before pulling my hand out of my dress, bringing it above the table and opening my palm. The sudden loud clanking caught the young boy’s attention as he turned his head, eyes widening as he looked at all the goods I had disregarded on the wooden table. I smirked at him, leaning my arms on the table as I leaned towards him.

“Do you think I can afford it?” I asked arrogantly, cocking an eyebrow. The boy just gulped and averted his eyes quickly.

“I’ll be by with our best wine, Miss.” I smiled and shushed him away quickly, looking back down at the little treasures I had borrowed throughout the night. A hairpin filled with tiny emeralds, a golden chain attached to an old looking golden pocket watch, three engagement rings with diamonds, a simple golden chain with a cross medal, and Mingyu’s necklace with a trident pendant. I placed my hands over them and pulled them towards myself, making sure nobody could steal them away from me. I debated whether or not in giving Mingyu’s necklace away as well, but in the end settled on slipping it back inside my corset, patting my chest down to make sure it was secured between my breasts. I didn’t have it in myself to part with this item, after all, Mingyu wasn’t a bad man nor ever had any bad intentions towards me. But as we danced tonight, I just couldn’t help myself. By the time I noticed what I had done, the thin golden necklace was clutched tightly in my palm, the trident pendant digging into the skin of my palm, a reminder that what I had once started doing as a joke, had now turned into a serious issue. I never truly meant to steal people’s things, but after realizing that I was so swift they wouldn’t even notice me taking their things away, it became a game to me. A curiosity to see how far I could get before somebody finally caught me. I knew my father would be devastated that his little daughter was a thief, or a kleptomaniac, and I would also probably go to prison since I was too wealthy to have my hand cut off. The constable would never do such horrendous thing to a girl like me.

My attention was suddenly caught by the man shuffling next to my right, head slightly bowed as he gripped a pint of beer in his clammy looking hand. His hair was already greying and his face was wrinkly. To be fair, he looked quite disgusting as he raised his head and flashed a yellow toothed smile my way, making me cringe. I covered away when he stepped even closer, mouth pulled into a grimace as the man tried to smirk, but he could barely stand on his feet as he had to lean into the table for support.

“Youn’ girl like yerself shouldn’t be in her’.” His words were slurred, but he seemed too determined to speak to me to realize that, “It’s dangerous.”

“I can see that,” I eyed the beer he held in his hand, dangerously close to my dress, “I would like it if you kept your cheap beer away from my dress.”

“Yer a spoiled one, eh?” He snickered, raising his beer up to his lips as he took a huge swing of it. I cringed at the action and looked around, trying to find the boy working here. He must surely tell this weird man to leave me alone. He would do that for me, right?

“And you’re disgusting, old, and poor.” I snapped back, glaring viciously at the man as he suddenly cackled as if I said something funny.

“The feisty ones are good in bed.” My jaw would’ve probably hit the floor if it could, eyes widening at his disgusting words. I huffed loudly, blood boiling at his blatant audacity. My hands clenched into fists and my jaw tightened as I glared furiously at this disgusting pig, a few seconds away from kicking the pint of beer out of his hand and smashing the glass on his head. But just as I pushed my chair back to scream at the man and chase him away, a tall figure inserted himself between the man and myself, black velvet coat way too familiar. It took a few seconds for my hazy brain to catch on that it was the stranger from Mrs. Boo’s ball. My eyes widened as I stared at the back of his head awestruck, wondering whether this was real or if my alcohol infused brain was playing tricks on me now.

“What did you just say?” The man’s voice was very deep, sharp, and it made me shiver as I continued staring at his blonde hair. His shoulders were incredibly broad from up-close, and I suddenly caught a whiff of something very sweet, almost vanilla like. It hadn’t been there before the stranger’s arrival, and it made me bite my lower lip as I felt even more drawn to the stranger.

“How dare you talk to a lady like that, you disgusting pig?!” The stranger’s voice was gravely and I watched taken aback as he took another step towards the old man, towering over him almost dangerously, “You’re lucky there’s too many people watching—otherwise I would’ve cracked your skull open, asshat.”

The old man seemed speechless as he stared up at the handsome stranger with shaking eyes, seemingly at a loss of words, “What—yer asking for it, son! Uneducated prick. How dare you talk to a lord like that? I will call the constable on you—”

“And I will tell the constable that you had been harassing my betrothed.” My heart skipped a beat as my eyebrows rose, staring at the stranger’s profile as I cocked my head to the right. Very subtly, he turned his head towards me and we made eye contact for a second. His lips twitched and I was sure he was trying not to smirk. My alcohol infused brain found the situation hilarious but also interesting, and I found myself playing along as I stepped up next to the handsome stranger, latching onto his right arm.

“Can you make this pig go away, love?” I asked with a pout, throwing a side glance at the old man. His face had turned red and he was glaring dagger at us, it almost made me chuckle. As I looked up in the stranger’s small, but sharp, eyes, the wind was knocked out of my lungs. He was so handsome, breathtaking from up-close. His features were sharp and nothing like I had seen before, a stray strand of blonde hair falling in his eyes. His dark eyes were warm and inviting, even playful as he chuckled, nodding his head at me.

“Will you turn away if I have to punch him?” His deep voice caught a lighter tone and I gulped, trying to ignore the rapid beating of my heart. I was sure my cheeks were warm, tinged red due to this handsome stranger. My body was reacting in a way it never had towards a man before.

“You shouldn’t bloody your pretty hands because of an incompetent leech.” I found myself saying, my left hand slipping down his arm and intertwining with his fingers. I could hear my own heartbeat, it was very loud and it was in my throat, thumping fast and strongly as the stranger tightened his hold against mine, his cold rings digging into my skin. His palm was calloused and big, almost engulfing mine wholly in his. They were warm and it made my skin feel even hotter than it already was before. Suddenly, he turned his head and his jaw locked, eyes narrowing at the old man.

“Get lost.” His words were punctuated and I watched as a dark look crossed his features, for a second making me question whether he was dangerous or safe to be around. But as he faced me again, his features relaxed and he flashed a wide smile at me, his teeth impeccably white, the front ones protruding a little, giving him a boyish look. His tall nose scrunched and his small eyes became even smaller, and I found myself completely enticed by him. I didn’t realize I let out a small sigh, having forgotten about the old prick as he had finally walked away, muttering profanities under his breath. I couldn’t care anymore as I kept staring into the handsome stranger’s eyes, seeing galaxies in them, dark brown chocolate swirling around his irises. I had completely forgotten that we were holding hands, too taken by his face, and suddenly, he detached himself from me. My body instantly felt cold as he took a small step away from me, a smirk adorning his lips. My eyebrows lightly furrowed as the dim lights swirled around me, but it was clear that he was about to walk away. And I couldn’t let that happen.

“Wait,” I reached out, griping his hand once again, stopping the handsome stranger from leaving, “If you leave right now, that old man will come back to bother me more. Since you lied, we better stick to it.”

The stranger’s eyebrows lightly furrowed as his eyes slowly fell onto our joint hands, and I swiftly let his hand go, feeling my cheeks flush in embarrassment. He looked at my face again, but I couldn’t hold eye contact with him just yet.

“You’re right, darling.” My eyes snapped up at the nickname, skin tingling and my stomach doing a weird flip at the hear of it. The stranger smiled at me dashingly, pointing for me to sit as he pulled out a chair for himself. I gulped, not quite considering what I was getting myself into as I took my seat at the table. It was silent between us as the stranger settled down too, our eyes meeting again despite me shying away quickly, all of my confidence suddenly out the window. The handsome stranger opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the young boy working here appeared with a glass of wine and two tall glasses in his hands. My eyes snapped to him as he placed everything down on the table, looking at me expectantly once he poured wine for us. I chuckled and gathered the jewelry I had borrowed and placed it in his open palm. However, the boy didn’t leave right away, he picked at the golden pieces with a frown on his face, looking back at me with narrowed eyes.

“Wasn’t there another necklace?” He asked, his voice judgmental. I chuckled as I grabbed my glass of wine and raised it to my mouth, smelling it. It seemed sweet, but not very fresh. It probably wasn’t from around here. I looked at the boy as I took a small sip of the wine, the taste not quite like I was expecting it to be. Ah, perhaps this is the best this pub could offer.

“Will you serve me actual good wine if there was another one?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking in victory when the boy rolled his eyes, storming away while mumbling, ‘spoiled princess’ under his breath. I chuckled, having forgotten for a second that the handsome stranger was sitting at the table with me. His snort alerted me and I quickly looked at him, but he just stook a large sip of his wine, eyebrows scrunching almost in distaste.

“Oh, well, that’s damn sweet.” My eyebrows raised at his choice of words; his voice gruff as he grimaced. He looked like a gentleman through and through, it was quite rare to hear them cursing, let alone around ladies. This stranger was quite interesting. I took another sip of my drink, checking for the taste again, but I didn’t find it as repulsive as the stranger made it seem to be. I chuckled, quirking an eyebrow in his direction.

“Do you not like it?” I asked lightly, motioning around us, “Would you like a pint of beer like all the other disgusting pricks from inside this pub?”

The man chuckled like I had said something funny, when my question was meant to be very serious. I wanted to know who I was dealing with.

“No, darling, I prefer rum.” He said with a smile, winking as he gulped down the rest of his wine in one go. My eyes widened at that and I glanced back down at my glass, finding that I had barely drunken anything from it. I had to catch up with him, I supposed. This was stupid, deep down I knew it was. What was I doing in a scruffy pub drinking wine with an insanely attractive stranger? This was so dangerous, I could get in so much trouble…yet my mind was focused on different things at the moment due to the alcohol intoxicating it, like the huge ruby ring this man wore on his left middle finger. His hands were placed on the table as he was playing with the glass, passing it between his large hands, his lower lip sucked between his teeth as I didn’t miss the way his eyes ran over my body, checking me out, “What are you doing here all alone, princess?”

I chuckled at the nickname, my stomach doing another weird flip as I took a bigger sip of my wine, suddenly getting bolder under the watchful gaze of the stranger, “What makes you think I’m alone and not with my guardians?”

“I had to step in to help you, didn’t I?” The stranger chuckled, “I doubt your guardians would’ve let that old asshat harass you like that.”

I couldn’t help but giggle when he said ‘asshat’, finding the word new in my vocabulary. I have never heard anyone saying it before, “You’re cursing quite boldly around a lady, love, don’t you fear your gruffness might drive me away?”

“Is it driving you away?” The stranger asked lowly as he suddenly leaned over the table, getting incredibly close to my face. I gulped as I felt at a loss of words, suddenly very aware of the painful thumping of my head. Would drinking more wine help in making that go away?

“No.” I found myself whispering, mesmerized by the glint in his eyes as the stranger hummed, settling back in his seat. My eyes were drawn back to his hands as he started playing with a particularly big ring, a letter carved on it. I couldn’t quite make it out, but it suspiciously looked like the letter A.

“You wear a lot of jewelry, it’s attractive.” I found myself mumbling absentmindedly, eyes widening when I realized the handsome stranger had heard me. He was in the middle of pouring himself another glass of wine, his eyebrows slightly raising as he looked confused for one little second, complacency quickly overtaking his features. His eyes narrowed slightly as he flexed his fingers, wriggling them even, before continuing to pour some more wine for himself. I cleared my throat and straightened my stance, holding my head high, “I haven’t seen you around before. Have you moved here recently?”

The stranger seemed to ponder for a second before he hummed, looking me in the eyes as he took a sip of his wine, “My name is Song Mingi.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Song.” I smiled brightly at him, finally associating a name to the handsome face, “My name is Yoon Y/N.”

Suddenly, he reached over the table and grabbed my hand, pulling my arm towards himself rather forcefully. I watched with interest as he raised my knuckles up to his plush lips and pressed a lasting kiss against it, his nose pressing into my skin, his breath hot as it hit my skin. Suddenly, everything felt hot around me as I watched him, feeling his soft lips and hot breath against the sensitive skin of my hand, it felt overwhelming as goosebumps covered my skin. I knew my face was flushed, but perhaps it wasn’t from the alcohol anymore. As he finally pulled my hand away from his face, I felt like I could breathe again and at the look in his eyes, I felt forced to take another large sip of my wine, curious as to where things were leading with this mysterious Song Mingi.

“I’m not quite from here,” He explained, still not having released my hand, “But I am from the Sun Rise Kingdom.”

I hummed, hand getting clammy in his grip, so I gently pulled it back, flexing my fingers as I gripped my glass of wine with both hands, “And what are you doing in this quiet town?”

Mingi chuckled, a playful expression on his face, “Hmm, I’d say I’m a traveler.”

“We don’t have many of those here.” I mumbled as I took another sip, coming to the realization that I had finished my wine. My head spun and body felt hot, the air sticky inside the pub, but I couldn’t find it in myself to move just yet. My father was probably losing his mind by now if he noticed his little daughter was gone.

“Have you traveled outside of your little town, Y/N?” Hearing him say my name felt strange, it sent a shiver down my spine. The way his baritone shook with the pronunciation of my name made my mouth go dry all of a sudden, and to my surprise, Mingi was pouring me another glass of wine. It had completely gone over my head that he was being rather informal with me despite having just met each other. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Of course I have, Mingi.” I paused for a second, watching his reaction to saying his name so casually, but it didn’t seem to bother him, he looked used to it, which was strange, “I’ve visited the Queen’s castle quite a few times already.”

“Oh,” Mingi suddenly seemed quite interested as he leaned forward, one hand reached out on the table, close to mine, “How come?”

I chuckled and shrugged, taking another sip of my wine as Mingi seemed to be patiently waiting for me to continue, “Well, we’re acquittanced, you know?”

His eyes widened for a second, but then he quickly fixed his expression and an overly friendly smile appeared on his lips, “Really? I would have never thought so.”

“Is that so?” I chuckled, licking my smooth lips. It seemed like Mingi thought he might’ve offended me, because his extended hand was suddenly placed over mine, his warm palm pressing against my smaller hand.

“My apologies, darling,” He batted his eyelashes at me, a quite comical look coming from a man, “I did not mean to assume anything. You look quite exactly like a Queen would look like.”

I didn’t mean to laugh so loudly, it was un-ladylike and against everything my governess had taught me, but for some reason I found Mingi’s flattering hilarious. And it was a compliment I hadn’t quite heard before.

“Oh, my, seems like you have met plenty of Queens in your lifetime, then.” I teased him with a cheeky smile. Mingi chuckled, looking down for a second before his gaze connected with mine again.

“I have, and none were as beautiful as you, Y/N.” The obvious and generic compliment shouldn’t have made me blush so deeply, but I opted to blame it on the wine I was consuming currently. I didn’t miss the way Mingi’s lips twitched into a small smirk before he tried to look friendly instead of smug again.

“Don’t you have a way with words, Mr. Song?” I mumbled before taking a small sip of my wine.

“Mingi is just fine.” He corrected and I felt his long finger grazing against my knuckles, caressing them. My heart skipped a beat. I had never been so taken by a man before. Everything about Mingi seemed to draw me in. His looks were the main reason I even paid attention to him in the first place, but his personality was mysterious yet exciting, it kept me wanting to talk to him.

“Mingi, then.” I said with a smile, flipping my hand upside down, Mingi slotted his fingers next to mine instantly, “You must be quite wealthy if you attended Mrs. Boo’s ball tonight.”

Mingi’s smirk returned, but it was cheeky this time, “What if I told you that I sneaked in? Will you continue talking to me? Or will you leave me alone, here at this table, princess?”

I hummed in thought for a second, considering his words. He certainly didn’t look like someone who would sneak into a ball like that, but his behavior was indeed weird. I allowed my eyes to run over his physique, and instantly regretted it as I was presented with his bare chest, the singular vest he had on doing a horrible job at covering the man up. The single silver chain dangling around his neck had my eyes fixated on it, and I had to force my hazy brain to focus on anything else but the way it sat against his collarbones.

“Since you’re being so vague I will continue talking to you, love.” Mingi chuckled, nodding his head, looking quite pleased with my answer, “I only asked because only the richest attend her balls.”

“Oh, really?” Mingi raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his wine, fingers flexing against mine.

“Really.” I said, mirroring him and taking another sip of my wine.

“So, that means you’re filthy rich?” He asked without any hesitation and I laughed again, grinning at him, enjoying how upfront he was.

“Yes, and I would be even richer if my mother hadn’t died.” I might’ve sounded like a spoiled, ungrateful, brat, but I was merely stating the truth. Mingi’s face lit up, an expression unfamiliar overtaking his face. He almost looked hungry…greedy, perhaps. I gulped and watched him, wondering whether saying that was smart or not.

“How come?” He asked nonchalantly, yet the glint in his eyes said otherwise.

“My mother was related to the Queen of the Sun Rise Kingdom, therefore I’m also a descended of the royal family.” If Mingi’s grip on my hand hadn’t been firm, now it turned almost painful, but my heart was racing and I didn’t want him to let go, his skin warm against mine.

“Oh, really?” Mingi grinned like a mad hatter, “So, you’re a princess then?”

I chuckled, shaking my head slowly, “Sadly, I am not. Even though I should be—look at me!”

“Oh, I am looking.” Mingi bit his lower lip as he said that, his intense eyes raking over my body again and suddenly I felt hot all over again, mouth going dry at the sudden shift of his tone and expression, something like hunger appearing in his eyes again, but I couldn’t decipher what it was this time. And I didn’t want to know as my skin tingled once Mingi’s fingers trailed up to my wrist, caressing my soft skin with his lip between his teeth still, “I think you’ve had enough drinks for tonight, princess.”

“Do I?” I challenged as I downed half of my glass in one go, regretting it as it burned my throat slightly. Mingi laughed for the first time, loud and wheezy, head thrown back slightly as he gripped my wrist firmly, fingers hooking around my delicate bracelet. I felt the action and found myself gripping his wrist unconsciously too, linking our hands so nobody would separate us. The silver chain on his wrist dug into my skin, and I found myself gripping it subconsciously, fingers softly feeling around for a clasp. But Mingi suddenly stood, taking my attention off the bracelet my fingers itched to slip off his wrist.

“Darling, let me walk you home,” He carefully pulled me up to my feet, making me aware of how badly my world was spinning around me at this point, “I would hate it if any gentleman took advantage of you.”

“I would hate that as well.” I said as I looked up in his eyes, his body suddenly too close to mine, my eyes landing on his exposed collarbones. Mingi’s hand slipped back down and he intertwined his fingers with mine as suddenly there was a finger underneath my chin, tilting my head up.

“Should I lead the way?” He asked almost breathless, staring down in my eyes deeply. I licked my lips as I watched his lips form the words, lips which looked soft and plush. I wondered what they tasted like.

“Yes, please, lead the way.” I whispered, daring to look back in his eyes once again.

“Good, princess.” And then he maneuvered us out of the pub, the air now chilly as we walked down the dark streets of the town. My world was spinning with me nauseatingly, and the dark made it harder to see anything. I knew which way I had to walk to reach the Yoon Manor, and surprisingly Mingi did too as he lead the way confidently. For someone who wasn’t from here, he knew the roads extremely well. Or maybe I was simply too drunk to realize that Mingi wasn’t leading me back to the safety of my manor, but towards the beach which my room overlooked. The breeze was pleasant despite the chill in the air, and I realized I was struggling to walk in my high heels, ankles aching with each step as Mingi had to steady me, allowing me to lean into his side as he threw one arm around my shoulders, while interlocking his fingers with mine with his other hand. Nothing much was said between the two of us as we continued on walking, huffs and puffs leaving my lips way too often, my eyes threatening to drop every second.

“Mingi,” I whispered, body completely worn out, “I don’t think I can walk anymore.”

We stopped walking, and I felt a hand cupping my cheek as I closed my eyes and nuzzled into the warm palm. Suddenly, the familiar sweet scent of vanilla engulfed my senses and I was a second too late to realize that I wasn’t standing on my feet anymore, “Let me carry you, princess.”

I hummed as I allowed my eyes to fall closed shut, arms around Mingi’s neck as he carried me, holding me securely in his strong arms. The vanilla was even stronger, now and I couldn’t help but notice the added scent of salt and…gunpowder? I inhaled deeply as my nose pressed against Mingi’s collarbone, and I heard him gasp quietly.

“Are you sure you know the way towards the Yoon Manor?” I mumbled into his skin, my lips pressing against his warm flesh. Mingi’s hold seemed to tighten as he cleared his throat, voice sounding raspier than before.

“Of course, princess. You can go to sleep now.” And because I was drunk and foolish, I followed his command, closing my eyes and falling asleep to the steady beats of his heart, failing to notice that we were way too far from the Yoon manor…and we’d only get even more far away from it.

            A loud crash resounding around me made me suddenly stir. My body felt cold and stiff as I lay unmoving, eyes squeezed tight shut, suddenly aware of the soft rocking of the bed. It made me wonder where that could be coming from or was it…the alcohol’s fault? Almost as if thinking about it sent some sensors off in my brain, my head started pulsing harshly, making me whine as I raised a hand to press against my forehead, softly rubbing my sweaty skin. My nose scrunched up as I tapped my forehead, then face, realizing the air was quite damp around me as my dress stuck to my skin. With a grimace expanding on my lips, I became aware of the weird stench surrounding me. It smelled like the sea and…fish. And I hated fish, it almost made me gag.

“Soyeon, Soojin.” I croaked out, almost inaudibly, surprised by how dry my throat felt. I gulped a few times, clearing my throat in an attempt of trying to get my voice to work as I called out again, slightly louder, “Soyeon. Soojin.”

I waited a few seconds, listening to the thudding of feet against the marble floors, the opening of my door, but there was nothing. My maids were nowhere to be found…or heard. I huffed and turned onto my side, nuzzling my nose against the silky sheet of the pillow, a little off-thrown by the vanilla scent of it. That’s certainly not what my pillowcases smell like, but perhaps the servants scented it differently this time and failed to let me know about it. That was something they would be reprimanded for as I didn’t like it when they did something without asking me first. I quite enjoy the fruity scent of my pillowcases.

“Soyeon.” I snapped, voice harsher, “Soojin.”

Eyebrows furrowing, I waited for my maids to finally spring into action, but there was nothing still, “Soyeon! Soojin!”

Eyes snapping open furiously, I was about to huff and puff loudly, but my whole blood froze in me. My eyes widened and anger vanished instantly as I realized I was in a foreign room. Eyes turning to the pillow I had my head on, I realized it wasn’t mine, and I instantly sprung up into a sitting position.

What was this?

Where was I?

With a gaping mouth, I took in the room, appalled by its simplicity and—by how mucked up it was. The large closet right next to the bed seemed eaten up by wood-beetles, the door quite off its hinges. Suddenly, I was thrown back into the bed and I groaned, eyebrows furrowing as I couldn’t quite fathom what was happening. There was a rather loud groan coming from somewhere outside this beaten down room, and I sat back up, continuing to take in the room. There was a desk underneath the small round window, and it was littered with books. My interest would’ve been peeked if I wasn’t in an unknown room, which, by the way, made my skin crawl due to its state. There were three large chests on the wall opposite of the bed, all closed, and apparently locked with an iron locket. My heart was beating fast and I felt myself sweating even more as I realized I could’ve been kidnaped, that some disgusting, crazed, man decided to take me captive and only God knows what will happen to me now—Mingi. Wasn’t…didn’t I leave with a man last night? A very handsome stranger, no, Song Mingi. That was his name. But he said he’d take me home, so why was I here right now?

I gasped, pressing my hands against my mouth as the thought occurred that perhaps something happened to Mingi. That would be such a shame, the man was too handsome for his own good. My skin tingled just at the thought of him, and I couldn’t help but blush as hazy memories of being in his arms, nose pressed against his bare skin, resurfaced in my mind. But reality quickly washed over me as there was another tumble to this strange place I found myself in, making me panic once again as I realized I had to get out of here somehow. I needed my father; he would know what to do. Even my maids would know! My lips quivered as I realized I was left alone and defenseless, this crazed man who kidnapped me could do anything to me right now, and I wouldn’t be able to protect myself. I blinked away the tears in my eyes as I reluctantly threw my legs over the edge of the bed, deciding that I needed to do something for myself right now. My father and maids weren’t around to guide me, I had to use all my knowledge while I remained calm and level-headed. But I couldn’t help trying once again, hopeful that this was just a bad dream that I haven’t woken up from just yet.

“Papa!” I screamed loudly, gripping the bedsheets tightly in my hands, “Soojin! Soyeon!”

And suddenly, there was another loud crash coming from outside of the room and I jumped, muscles tensing as my eyes snapped to the door. There was a loud deep groan, and then this weird place rocked violently again, sending something crashing into the door from the outside. I could hear a muffled voice cursing loudly as the door was suddenly flung open, making my eyes widen as I sprung up to my feet in fright. I didn’t know what was about to happen right now, but I was ready to put up a fight if this monster of a man, who dared to kidnap me, tried doing anything to me. But the scream I was ready to let out got stuck in my throat as I was met with a rather familiar face.

In the daylight, he looked completely different. His long blonde hair was in a manbun, a few shorter strands falling out of it as it framed his face. His skin looked to be glowing as sweat sheen on his exposed chest, the skin tan, and smooth looking. Mingi looked even taller in the rather small room we were in, his white shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, three different length silver chains adorning his neck, falling against his tan skin. Leather black pants clung to his muscular thighs, and I was slightly taken aback by his narrow waist, the thick leather belt hugging it tightly, his shirt tucked in. I knew a few ladies who would’ve killed to have his waist.

“Hey, quit screaming.” Mingi hissed, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me with his sharp eyes, “Not everyone is up yet, princess.”

I gulped, trying to gather my thoughts. Why did his voice sound even deeper compared to last night?

“What am I doing here?” I managed to ask, blinking my eyes fast when I caught myself staring at his rather firm chest. Mingi remained silent for a second, staring at me with amusement washing over his face.

“Well, princess,” He started, walking further inside the room, making me step back as the back of my knees crashed into the bed behind me, I felt caged in, “You needed a helping hand last night as you were a tad bit too drunk.”

Mingi chuckled as he watched confusion written all over my face as I tried to place the missing pieces together. Well yes, he wasn’t wrong, I might’ve had too much to drink last night, but that still didn’t explain why I wasn’t currently in my room, with my maids there to take care of me, and with my father screaming at me for running off last night. I could only assume this was Mingi’s place, and it was disgusting. Wasn’t he rich? And if he was, why did his place look like this? Certainly there must be nicer Inns in this little town, why did he willingly choose to stay in the dirties and most beaten down one?

“Well, I—” I cleared my throat as it still felt dry, I found it a little bit hard to speak, “I certainly had a little bit more than a lady like myself is supposed to have.”

I tried to look confident, ignore the light flush of my cheeks as I remembered more of what has happened last night, the way Mingi’s fingers curled against mine, his rings digging into my skin. Almost as if on cue, my eyes travelled down towards his hands, and I wasn’t surprised to find them decorated by big and thick rings, the red ruby on his middle finger almost glinting in the sunlight coming through the small round window of this wretched room. Mingi hummed, making me look back up at his face as I tried to ignore the knowing smirk on his lips. But he didn’t say anything, and it made me nervous as I sniffed, fidgeting on the bed for a second before I stood once again, glancing around the room. Since I wasn’t kidnaped by a scruffy man, but Mingi…did it mean I was here because…something that I failed to recall has happened between the two of us last night?

And as if Mingi could read my mind, a chuckle left his lips, “You move around a lot in your sleep, princess, I certainly got an elbow to my ribs once or twice during the night—”

“During the night?!” I didn’t mean to exclaim as my eyes widened, mouth going even drier, “We—we slept in the same bed?!”

Mingi raised his eyebrows nonchalantly and took another step towards me, making me clutch onto the skirt of my dress, “Of course, we did, princess. Did you think I would offer up my precious bed to you and sleep on the hard wooden floor myself?”

“Well, I—yes.” I said as I threw him a small glare, “That’s what a gentleman is supposed to do.”

Mingi chuckled, giving me a cheeky smile, “But I’m not a gentleman, darling. God forbid I treat you like the princess you are.”

I wasn’t an actual princess, but I didn’t feel like correcting him, “But if we slept in the same bed—oh, no.”

I let out a harsh breath, eyes widening as I glanced behind myself at the bed, heart suddenly thumping wildly. My ears started ringing and I bit my lower lip, eyebrows furrowing as I wracked my brain to remember anything…inappropriate that’s happened between myself and Mingi. But I was coming up blank, and it only unsettled me more as Mingi remained unphased, an amused smirk on his lips when I looked back up at him.

“Oh, no, what, darling?” He closed the gap between our bodies and suddenly reached out, twirling a curly strand of my hair between his fingers, “Do you not remember? Didn’t think you’d forget based on the way you were screaming my name last night.”

“Wha—what?!” I stammered mortified. Mingi had the audacity to pout as I swiftly slapped his hand playing with my hair away, skin burning, and face beat red. For a second, I couldn’t breathe as Mingi remained silent, obviously enjoying my distress as he chuckled loudly, leaning slightly down to be eye level with me. My eyebrows furrowed and I leaned back, hands fisting the skirt of my dress so tightly that my grip was becoming painful.

“Your face is precious right now, darling.” Mingi chuckled, and I felt on the verge of passing out from embarrassment and anger, “But as much as I love the look on your face, I have to admit that it was just a bloody joke, Y/N. I like my partners conscious and sober when we have sex, darling, and you were passed out and far from sobriety. And even I, myself, certainly wasn’t in the right state last night to even think of doing anything to you.”

I needed a moment to truly understand Mingi’s words, soak them in and analyze them, to finally realize that we hadn’t actually done anything. Like he had said, I passed out from drinking too much, and based on his words, he was also too drunk to attempt doing anything. Knowing this settled the frantic beat of my heart, but I still didn’t feel at ease. I was a respectable and an exemplary lady, even just sharing a bed for a night with a man would ruin my reputation and pure image. My father would certainly lose his mind if he were to ever know.

“Good,” I snapped, bunching up my skirt around my ankles, glaring daggers at Mingi, “and you’re not funny, Mingi, your sense of humor is quite lacking if you enjoy watching a lady in distress due to such sensitive topic. And if we’re done here now, then I’m leaving.”

I went to push past Mingi as I huffed loudly, but his hand shot forward all of a sudden, and he gripped my upper arm, “You’re not going anywhere, Y/N.”

“Yes, I am.” I snapped with a tsk, yanking on my arm, but he didn’t want to release it. Mingi just rolled his eyes and tightened his grip, leaning closer in as his own eyes narrowed at me.

“No, you’re not.” He emphasized his words, voice imitating mine, slightly deeper as he was glaring back at me now, looking rather intimidating. A blonde strand fell into his eye and I was rather flabbergasted when I found myself wanting to tuck it behind his ear.

“Oh, really?” I smirked, stepping so close to him that the toes of our shoes pressed against each other painfully, our faces barely inches away as I raised my head, “And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do, Mingi?”

“Well, for starters, I’m Mingi.” The stupid smile that showed his adorable front teeth was irritating, and my jaw clenched as Mingi’s fingers teasingly glided down my arm, fingers intertwining with mine, yanking on my hand so that I fell against his chest. I gasped, craning my neck to look up at him, heart beating fast as our exposed collarbones lightly brushed against each other, “And I’m a pirate, sweetheart. And I’ve taken you hostage, so until daddy dearest pays up, you’re staying here with me.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I studied his face for any signs of amusement, but Mingi was serious. Too serious all of a sudden, and I found myself panicking once again as I lightly shook my head no, “Right, and you expect me to believe you, because—”

“Because the whole town is looking for you right now as we speak, and unless daddy dearest decided to sleep in—which I highly doubt—then he’s found a letter with my pretty handwriting on the desk in his study room, and is writing back to us just this second, probably desperate enough to pay us the requested money, if that means he gets his little gemstone back.” Did Mingi consider that I was like a gemstone, then? I subtly shook my head, getting rid of such silly thoughts in such serious situation. This couldn’t be real, I must be still asleep, having a nightmare. There’s no possibility that I was kidnapped by a pirate, who’s now asking my father to pay him copious amount of money if he wants me back. It felt like my stomach dropped all of a sudden, and I felt nauseous just like last night as my eyebrows furrowed.

“I—I—” I took a deep breath and gripped Mingi’s fingers tightly, gritting my teeth as I refused to allow this stupid pirate to play around with me, “I refuse to be your hostage.”

My words sent Mingi into a fit of giggles and my glare just deepened as he seemed to gloss over my words, throwing his head back as his giggles turned into loud laughter. Wasn’t I supposed to stay silent because other’s were still sleeping? Did that not apply to Mingi as well? But his momentarily lack of attention served me just right as I remembered he never bothered to close the door of the room, or lock it for that matter, and it was my chance for an escape. It was too easy, too perfect, and I took advantage of that to the fullest. Just as Mingi opened his mouth, seemingly having calmed down, my right leg rose as I aimed for his neither region, kneeling him hard in the balls. Mingi’s lips parted in a loud cry and I chuckled as I was able to push him back, send him tumbling into the desk as he doubled over, face scrunched up in pain as he started moaning in pain. I didn’t waste any more time as I took off towards the door, sprinting out of the room, a little disheartened when I noticed the long hallway littered with doors on both sides. But I noticed light pouring down from one direction and I took off towards it, the skirt of my dress raised above my knees as I felt thankful for being a fast runner, my feet carrying me to the stairs in no time, able to hear the waves crashing against the shore and the salty air as I ran up the stairs, momentarily blinded by the strong sunlight. I have reached my freedom, Mingi had no chance of catching me, and I would return home to my father unscathed, saving him from having to give out God knows how much money to this stupid pirate.

But I wasn’t prepared for the scene unfolding in front of me as I reached the top of the stairs. A man held a big sword in his hands as he seemed to be sparring with a red-haired woman, their swords loud as they clashed against each other. There was a man climbed up high and looking over the water. There were a few men walking around, pulling barrels or just sharpening their knives, but perhaps, what was the most shocking was how far away the shore seemed to be. It sent my heart into a frenzy as I stepped further outside, realizing that water was the only thing that surrounded us, making it harder to breathe as I spun around in one place, taking everything in. The stench in the room, the sea and the fish, the constant rocking and loud waves—we were out on the open sea on a large ship. I gasped as I pressed a hand against my mouth, trying to catch my breath as my heart was pumping wildly, making me dizzy as the loud clanking of swords came to an abrupt stop, becoming eerily silent around me as I looked up. All eyes were on me, and I gulped nervously, unsettled by the weird looks the older men were giving me. Or perhaps I should calling them pirates. I wasn’t so curious to find out anything more about them, I just wanted to go home to my father. There were some rapid thuds behind me, until I became aware of the footsteps headed heavily towards me, catching me off guard when a harsh grip was settled around my bicep. It didn’t feel like Mingi’s grip, however, and I found myself struggling against it instantly, uncaring of the people watching. I had to free myself, I needed to get away sooner than later while I was still up on deck. Perhaps I could swim back to the shore.

“Let me go you filthy—” My eyes widened as I whipped my head around, yanking against the grip, only to be taken off guard at the extremely gorgeous man back staring at me, unbudging despite my attempts to free myself, “oh, you look quite pristine for a pirate.”

An amused chuckle left the black-haired man’s lips, and his hair was in a manbun similar to Mingi’s, however his hair was a lot longer. His eyes were big and his lips plump, his skin tan. His outfit was put together and looked to be in perfect state, a dark corset around his torso as a long coat hung off his shoulders, I’ve never seen a man wear a corset before. He was tall, but not as tall as Mingi.

“That’s a compliment I hadn’t gotten before,” His voice was deeper, yet his chuckle high pitched. He talked smoothly and elegantly, confusing me the longer I took him in, “But I must ask who you are, love.”

“You first, love.” I snapped, eyes narrowing at the stupidly gorgeous man. He chuckled, lips curling into a rather unsettling smile as his round eyes lost their friendliness.

“Park Seonghwa, Quartermaster of Ateez, pleased, love?” His tone was mocking and rather cold, unappreciative of my demanding nature. I gulped and nodded, but refused to speak up. I wasn’t about to give away my identity, it meant not everyone knew who I was. Maybe it was just Mingi who knew, and I intended on keeping it that way.

“And just who brought this yapping brat on my ship?” There was another voice calling out, higher pitched and snappy, and I gasped offended as my eyes snapped up towards the voice. There was a cat-like eyed man leaning over the railing, features sharp and well defined as his aura was demanding and intimidating, glaring daggers at me.

Before I could say anything, there was another unknown voice speaking up, “Probably Mingi, you know he has an affinity for shiny new things—”

A groan cut his words off as I looked his way, surprised to find the red-haired woman glaring at the tall man, he seemed to be around Mingi’s height. The man chuckled sheepishly, looking away from the woman with a shrug, “What? You know it’s true.”

“Yunho.” The woman reprimanded as my eyes remained on them, noticing the quick yet obvious loving look in the man’s eyes as he smiled at the woman, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining. It made me think of Mingi as he often did that, and I found myself blushing stupidly as I huffed out loud. It caught the attention of the man holding me and I quickly yanked my arm free, stumbling as I had thought he wouldn’t release me so easily. I caught my footing quickly, however, and quickly patted down my dress, pulling my shoulders back and holding my chin high. The man holding me previously and the other one leaning against the railing chuckled almost simultaneously and I scowled, giving them both a glare that would’ve shut up any servant back at the manor, but these two idiots seemed even more amused as they started snickering while they shared a glance.

“Hey!” There was suddenly a commotion downstairs, until loud thuds hit the wooden stairs as my head snapped towards the sound, “Y/N! Come back here! I will—”

Mingi froze as he got on deck, now all eyes on him as his chest was heaving, eyes widening when he looked up towards the railing, “Captain!”

“Good morning, Mingi.” The man smirked, placing his chin in his open palm, “Care to explain yourself?”

“This isn’t like last time, I swear!” Mingi was quick to exclaim, and gone was the cocky and confident man as his eyes widened, and he scrambled to explain himself to the, apparently, Captain of the ship, “She’s like—super rich. She’s a princess, Hongjoong! We’re gonna get so much money this time, that we won’t have to trade for a whole month!”

“Is that so, Mingi?” The Captain looked intrigued as he quirked an eyebrow, looking in my direction. I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at the man, “But Wooyoung and Haneul are taking care of that issue currently.”

“Sure, but we’ve still got some weeks until we meet up with them, surely the plus income comes in handy, right, Seonghwa?” Mingi raised his eyebrows as he looked towards the other man with a manbun, who’s lips were pursed as he hummed.

“I’m always up for more money, but it depends what our Captain wants—”

“I’m not a princess.” I suddenly stated loudly, all eyes snapping onto me. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked confused for a second before his eyes narrowed.

“Too late, princess, you’ve already told me last night—”

“And I lied.” I smirked, looking at Mingi challengingly as his eyebrows furrowed even more as he took some steps towards me.

“No, you didn’t—”

“I am related to the Queen, but I am not a princess, although I should be one.” There were a few snickers but I didn’t look to see from whom as I watched Mingi’s expression fall, and face contort into anger. It felt nice to have the upper hand for once, having tricked him into believing I was royalty. I chuckled, grinning as he came to a stop in front of me.

“In that case, throw her overboard.” My eyes widened at the Captain’s nonchalant sentence, attention already elsewhere as he went back to the wheel, looking out onto the sea.

“Hongjoong—” The red-haired woman started, but I cut her off as my heartbeat picked up again.

“I’m rich!” I exclaimed, looking between Mingi and the Captain, “My father can surely pay however much you ask of him. We are…filthy rich!”

Mingi chuckled, looking at me smugly, and it made me want to grab onto his manbun and yank on it.

“Is that so?” The Captain called, but looked rather uninterested as Seonghwa also seemed to turn his attention elsewhere, looking like he started patrolling, talking to the other pirates on deck. Yunho and the red-haired girl also went back to sparing, and I just now noticed that the man high up in the sky was watching everything unfold beneath him.

“I’ll take care of her, don’t worry, Hongjoong.” Mingi mockingly saluted towards the Captain before he gripped me by the nape and turned me around, forcing me to walk towards the stairs. I hissed and tried to get out of his grip, but Mingi just grunted in warning and made me walk down the stairs, leading me back to that God-awful room, probably.

            As the minutes went by, I started to realize that this man was just as stupid as any other one, not one complete or smart thought in his head as he stood glaring in my direction, seemingly having ran out of patience. I scoffed as I glared back at him, just as fed up with him as he was with me. As Mingi opened his mouth to speak, I quickly spoke up with a loud and clear voice.

“For the last time, Song Mingi, you are not chaining me to your goddamn bed!” My voice cracked at the end as I was turning borderline hysterical, body starting to shake. There was no way in hell that this man was chaining me to his dirty bed!

“And for the last time, Yoon Y/N, I am chaining you to my goddamn bed!” Mingi snapped back, his deep voice a few octaves higher as the huff he let out was loud, eyes ablaze. My jaw tensed and I crossed my arms in front of my chest, staring him down challengingly.

“If you touch me, I will break your fingers and then Lieutenant Kim will have your head for it—”

“Is that the man you were dancing with at that ridiculous ball?” Mingi cut me off, jaw tense like mine as his grip tightened around the chains he was holding in both hands. They looked heavy, and I refused to have those rusty things touching my skin.

“Why?” I smirked, uncrossing my arms, “Are you jealous?”

Mingi scoffed, rolling his eyes theatrically, “As if…you wish, darling.”

“As much as I love a little drama,” I smiled sweetly, raising my hand to look at my nails nonchalantly, rather unpleased to see the nail polish already peeling off. Soojin had always been quite incompetent when it came to applying nail polish, “I’d rather not have a stupid and incompetent pirate and a gorgeous but poor Lieutenant fighting over me—”

“How arrogant to think that’d we’d ever want to fight over you.” Mingi cut me off, snappy as he stormed up to me, glaring down at me. My lips curled into a mocking smirk as I grabbed his hands and squeezed them harder over the chain he was holding, making him hiss.

“Surely you didn’t take me hostage just because I’m rich,” I chuckled, trailing my forefinger from his wrist right up to his elbow, watching as Mingi gulped nervously, “If I wasn’t as beautiful as I am, you wouldn’t have even as much as glanced my way, pirate.”

Mingi seemed to fidget for a second, but he cleared his throat and looked at me intently, eyes narrowing, “You seem to think rather highly of yourself, princess, so let me set some things straight. In fact, I did not give two flying fucks about your or any other lady’s looks from that ball when I was looking for my next prey. I’m not here looking for a partner, I’m here looking for money. And whoever has the bigger wealth, is whoever I pick. Maybe this will humble you a little, darling, but you were the easiest prey last night as you had stupidly exposed yourself to everyone by leaving that God-awful ball…and you just made my job so much easier, thank you for that, peasant.”

I gasped at the last word, slapping Mingi’s exposed chest before pushing him backwards, glaring at him furiously as a wide smirk stretched onto his lips, watching me smugly and pleased of himself, while I tried to control my rage. How dare he disrespect me like that?! Who was he to say such things to me, a noble and higher up on the social anarchy?! He was the peasant here, not me.

“And a peasant must be put on chains, unless we want them causing any more problems—”

“A peasant,” I took a deep breath, trying to control the tremor in my voice, “doesn’t have to beg for others to give them money, to blackmail a poor father after kidnaping his daughter, nor does he have to think about how to fend for himself day after day—oh, wait! That is what a peasant does, pirate, sounds like you two have a lot more in common than I, a noble, and a peasant does. So who exactly are you calling a peasant here, idiot?”

Mingi’s jaw locked as he bit his lower lip, nodding his head wordlessly, staring down at the wooden floor, chains rattling in his grip as he shook his hands. I continued to hold my head high as Mingi slowly looked up, eyes ablaze and face turned into a scowl as a venomous expression spread over his face, “Excuse me, your highness, that not all of us are raised in puff and lavish. That not all of us have thirty servants fending for our mansions and castles, maids who wipe our asses because we don’t know how to do that ourselves, or chests filled with gold to the brim, awaiting to be spent on useless items, such as the newest dress the Queen thinks is fashionable. And now—shut up, Y/N, I’ve had enough of hearing your stupid voice and ignorant words! I’ll chain you up, and you will shut up, unless you want me to gag you as well.”

And then he suddenly marched up to me, the backs of my knees already pressing into the bed, leaving no space for me to run away. My eyebrows furrowed and I whined as he took hold of my left wrist forcefully, trying to push me down on the bed, but I held myself strong, glaring daggers in his face as we made eye contact. Mingi was visibly furious, a constant sneer on his face as he hissed, a silent warning in his eyes for me to stop. But I wouldn’t stop, did he think he could scare me with empty words? If he treated me like this, I would be his worst nightmare. And just as he went to grip my other hand to push me down on the bed, I moved faster, right hand going above his head and fingers tangling tightly in his manbun. Mingi’s eyes found mine, and for a second, he looked confused, but then he gasped as I yanked on his hair hard, tilting his head back as I made sure all of my fingers were tightly tangled into his blonde locks, nails pushing against his scalp.

“What the hell, Y/N!” He screamed, voice high pitched as the chains suddenly hitting the floor made a loud noise, making me cringe and whine in pain as they hit my bare toes. That would certainly bruise, and so, with a glare, I looked back at Mingi, who was grabbing my wrist with both hands now, trying to pull my hand away, only failing and making me yank more on his locks, “Hey, stop it!”

I scoffed and pulled his head lower, making Mingi’s back bend backwards as I stepped around him, pulling him forcefully after myself. Mingi was fighting back, but having to crouch down and walk at the same time didn’t allow him much choice, he couldn’t push me off himself. I didn’t know where I was headed, but walking him around the room like this perhaps taught him a lesson, so, I started walking us aimlessly, pulling harder and harder on his hair, Mingi’s whines turning into loud groans and hisses.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Y/N, when I get my hands on you—”

“What, will you chain me to the bed?” I asked sweetly, abruptly stopping, Mingi crashing into my side. I leaned close to his face, grinning wickedly as I yanked on his hair again, which was surprisingly soft, making him grit his teeth at me, “Will you gag me and taunt me more? Poor little Mingi, his fragile ego hurt by a woman merely stating the truth—”

“You are a bitch.” I gasped and yanked him forward, sinking my other hand into his hair too, our bodies pressed against each other as Mingi struggled to keep up.

“Maybe I am a bitch, but when I get back to my papa, I will continue on living my life like nothing happened, while you’ll have a target on your head that will make you and your crew perish,” I grinned evilly, Mingi’s face twisting with another wave of anger, “I wouldn’t say you got much out of this whole ordeal, Mingi.”

To my surprise, he stopped struggling against me, his grip loose against my wrists, making my eyebrows furrow. I thought I had finally knocked some sense into him, but suddenly his hands moved, and I felt his large palm against the back of my head, long fingers tangled into my hair, silver rings digging into my scalp. My eyes widened when I realized what he was about to do, and a loud gasp left my lips as Mingi finally yanked on my hair, tilting my head back. I yelped loudly, tears springing into my eyes as he used more force than I did on him, the fragile strands pulling my scalp harshly, making it burn.

“How does it feel to get your own treatment, princess?” Mingi’s tone was mocking, but he still hissed when my fingers flexed, “I bet your maids hate your fucking guts, Y/N. You’re horrible—”

“Say something new if you want to actually insult me—” I yelped again as Mingi yanked harder, the corset still tight around my body, not allowing me to bend my back anymore backwards, “Stop it!”

“If you let me go first—”

“Never.” I hissed, making Mingi groan.

“You’re so fucking stubborn—I won’t chain you to the bed, for fuck’s sake, just let me go!” Mingi screamed, voice raw and annoyed, aggressively puffing his chest out into mine.

“You first!” I screamed back, adamant on not letting go first. It would give him the upper hand, I wasn’t stupid! Mingi groaned loudly and suddenly the burn was gone from my scalp, his fingers untangled from my locks, hand gone from my head. As he opened his mouth, I did the same and Mingi hissed, standing up to his full height, glaring daggers at me. My heart seemed to jump into my throat as we stood pressed chest to chest, our breathing rather ragged, jaw gritted and glare sharp, the tall man looming over me.

“You vex me.” Mingi hissed, fisting his palms at his side.

“And you irk me.” I hissed back, looking him in the eyes with a defying look. He just shook his head and stepped back, leaving me rather confused as he walked to his closet, not before kicking the chains to the side, and opened the door. It almost came off and he had to steady it with both hands to stop it from falling down, but suddenly he dug inside and when he pulled his hand back, he turned his head to throw me a glance. And then, clothes were thrown in my face and my eyebrows furrowed as I scrambled to catch the items before they fell, giving Mingi a confused look.

“Change out of your clothes, you stink.” I rolled my eyes before looking down at the foreign clothing items. Were those pants? I’ve never worn such thing before, they were for men…but then again, that red-headed woman up on the deck wore pants as well. Was this the latest trend? Couldn’t be, I never heard the Queen saying anything about it.

“I don’t stink,” I gave Mingi a look as I placed the clothes on the desk, placing my hands on my hips, “However, you do.”

Mingi scoffed, mirroring my stance, “Oh, really? My apologies, princess, but we’ve run out of milk and roses a week ago. I will make sure to pick these items up the next time we dock down, cannot go around smelling like dead fish and sweat, now, can I?”

“At least you’re aware.” I muttered with a smirk, making Mingi close his eyes for a second as he inhaled and exhaled, suddenly looking tired as he opened his eyes.

“I don’t stink.” He snapped and I chuckled, grabbing the white shirt to inspect it. I brought it up to my nose, and was rather taken aback to find it smelling like vanilla. My eyes found Mingi’s and his eyebrows were raised as he stared at me, but I refused to voice my thoughts. How could a pirate smell like vanilla?

“Well,” I snapped, placing the shirt down again, “Will you turn around? I have to change.”

Mingi made to pretend he was thinking, pressing his forefinger into his plump lower lip, his eyebrows furrowing cutely, “Hmm, let me think—no!”

The smirk on his lips made my skin crawl as he shamelessly racked his eyes over my body, making me feel suddenly naked under his darkening gaze despite being fully clothed. I gulped, aware of my cheeks suddenly flushing, but not out of embarrassment. I was flustered and…before I could dwell more on it, I grabbed a book from the table and flung it at Mingi, making him grunt as the book’s spine crashed into his exposed chest.

“Heavens, you’re so infuriating.” He muttered as he rolled his eyes, finally turning his back to me. I smiled in triumph and then quickly went to undo the buttons of the dress at the front, careful with my actions as the dress was valuable and had sentimental value to me. The fabric was soft and fragile and once the last button was undone, I carefully slid the sleeves off my hands, skin covered in goosebumps as the temperature was rather low in Mingi’s atrocious room. I was careful as I finally stepped out of the green dress, folding it in two and placing it onto the back of the chair. I tensed when I heard movement coming from Mingi’s direction, but when I looked, he was still facing me with his back and he seemed to have opened the book as he hummed, probably flipping through the pages. It’s rather peculiar that a pirate is interested in literature. The books on his desk were almost identical to the one’s in my father’s library from the forbidden section, my favorite ones. I quickly unclasped the item that Soojin and Soyeon called the ‘upside-down basket’, the one that made the skirts of my dresses big, princess like. I raised it overhead and placed it onto the ground next to me before pushing my stockings down my legs, glad that my skin would finally stop being itchy. My undergarment was covered by a silk gown that reached mid-thigh and the last thing I had to get rid off before I could wear Mingi’s clothes was the corset. I reached around myself, feeling up my back to find the strings, and then pulled. But nothing happened. I sighed quietly, pulling again and hoping I could untangle it, but nothing happened. The corset was still as tight as ever, my hands couldn’t reach far back, I couldn’t do this on my own. My eyes ventured towards Mingi, but I quickly shook my head at the ridiculous idea. I’d rather die than have Mingi help me…but then again, if I had to wear this corset for much longer, I might just die. My torso felt numb, and it ached as the corset dug into my skin uncomfortably, my breasts also aching from being pushed up for such long time. I sighed again and looked in Mingi’s direction, biting my lower lip. He surely wouldn’t do anything inappropriate if I were to ask him to help, right?

I cleared my throat and shuffled uncomfortably, “Mingi…”

There was no response at all, it seemed like he hadn’t heard me, “Mingi.”

“What?” His tone was snappy, and I licked my lips, looking at the floor.

“I, uh—can you undo my corset?” I asked quietly and glanced up, watching Mingi’s body tense as silence followed for a brief moment.

“Can I what?” He asked bewildered.

“Unlace my corset, Mingi.” I snapped, impatient, “I can’t do it myself; my hands don’t reach that far behind.”

“Oh.” Mingi muttered and he took a deep breath before wordlessly nodding his head. I wasn’t exactly prepared as he turned around, cheeks slightly red as he seemed to be looking at my face only, biting his lower lip nervously as he slowly approached me. I averted my eyes and cleared my throat awkwardly, swirling around as I grabbed my own arms, rubbing at my cold skin, trying to offer myself comfort as I heard Mingi come to a stop behind me. There was a soft thud and I glanced back to see the book placed on the table.

“Alright, I’ll unlace your corset.” His raspy voice was low as it was quiet, and my body tensed when I felt his fingers brush against the exposed skin of my back. I had to remind myself to breathe as I was too hyper focused on every move of Mingi’s, the softness his fingers worked with as he started undoing the knots, gently pulling the strings apart. I licked my lips as his finger brushed against my heated skin, untangling the top two knots, already bringing even the littlest relief to my body as I exhaled harshly.

“Did I hurt you?” Mingi asked quietly, stopping. I quickly shook my head as my fingers dug into the skin of my arms, trying to find a steady breath as my heart was beating faster and faster. My face felt hot and I knew it was probably red.

“No, I’m fine.” I whispered, and Mingi grunted once before I felt his fingers move again, slightly yanking my body backwards as he probably couldn’t untangle a knot that easily. Soyeon and Soojin always tied my corsets tightly and expertly, otherwise I would’ve fired them long ago. I cleared my throat as Mingi started humming quietly, suddenly aware that his body was close to mine as his warmth engulfed mine, luring me in with his vanilla scent, mixed with the sea and gunpowder, which was more prominent now than it was last night. My cheeks flushed even more when I remembered the way my nose had pressed against his exposed collarbone, breathing in deep his scent, finding comfort in it and the way Mingi’s larger body seemed to hold me so securely, making me feel the safest I ever have. I gulped, rather loudly, and felt even more knots come loose as suddenly the pressure was taken off my ribs, allowing me to breathe freely, my lungs finally able to fill with air to the fullest. I gasped quietly, palms balling up into fists as Mingi’s fingers brushed against my clothed back, and it arched subconsciously as my skin erupted in goosebumps. I heard a loud gulp from behind and tried to ignore the way I could hear Mingi breathing, making me shudder involuntarily. He suddenly sniffed loudly as he undid more knots, lower ribs freed too, and I closed my eyes as I exhaled quietly in relief, body no longer straining and aching from the restriction the garment offered. I smiled in content, body relaxing and unaware that I leaned back against Mingi, arms hanging limply next to my body as I relished in the feeling that taking off the corset meant after so many hours of wearing it. However, I flinched when I felt Mingi’s large hands wrap around my waist, firmly gripping me. I froze, unblinking and unbreathing as I waited for his next move, which to my surprise, was to yank the corset apart, strings coming undone, slipping from their bindings. My eyes widened a little and I quickly stood up straight again, confused as to why I was disappointed that Mingi no longer held onto me. I felt Mingi slipping the corset upwards and I raised my arms, accustomed to this due to my maid always helping me, and allowed Mingi to take the corset off. I whirled around, about to thank him and act like nothing had happened, but the look on Mingi’s face was startling for a second. His own cheeks seemed to be flushed and he was biting his lower lip, eyebrows slightly furrowed and eyes darker than their usual color, pupils blown wide. I gulped as I looked at him, pondering my next move as I reached for the corset, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’ as Mingi released the fabric. He didn’t say anything and I felt myself mesmerized, unable to move quite yet as Mingi reached forward, fingers lightly tangling at my sides into the silk fabric of the short gown. The thin strap had slipped off my left shoulder, and as Mingi’s eyes racked over all the skin exposed to him, I finally realized I was standing almost as good as naked in front of him. My eyes widened and I took a big step back, averting my eyes as Mingi coughed, rubbing his nose before his fingers tangled into his hair, undoing his manbun. His hair was messy, but he looked off to the side as he quickly retied the messy bun, caused by me, and cleared his throat.

“Uh, finish up quickly.” He sounded almost breathless as he swiftly turned, offering me privacy once again. I hummed and nodded even if he didn’t see me, settling into motion quickly. I threw the corset onto the bed and grabbed his white shirt, pulling it over my shoulders and almost chuckled at how big it was on me. But I quickly started buttoning it up, making sure that my chest was covered well as I stopped at the last button underneath my chin. The shirt was as long as my gown, they both reached mid-thigh. I grabbed the pants and gave them a distasteful look before slipping my legs into each pant leg, the feeling foreign as my exposed legs were instantly wrapped up in warmth, the feeling not as repulsive as I had imagined it to be. I tucked in the shirt and glared at the end of the pants, pooling around my feet. Despite not being short myself, Mingi was too tall for me to comfortably wear his clothes, but I did appreciate it…even if he probably thought I didn’t. I watched the front of the pants in confusion, wondering if the lace was to lace them up like a corset.

“Uh, how do I lace this up?” I asked in confusion, making Mingi turn around, looking just as confused. His face flashed with amusement as he caught onto what I meant, and he walked close again, a small amused smile on his lips.

“Yeah, like this.” My skin tingled when our fingers brushed against each other and my cheeks instantly flushed, I was glad Mingi was focused on the lace and not my face. He pulled tightly, and I gasped as I was yanked towards him, having to steady myself on his broad shoulders, making Mingi chuckle as he cast me a quick glance. Lacing up these pants was a lot easier and quicker as I watched Mingi demonstrate it, something I would be able to do on my own too from now on. When he was done he patted my waist twice, and I tried to keep my eyes off his face as my heart lurched at the action again, stepping back and crouching down to fix the problem at my feet as I rolled the pants up. Mingi watched me with amusement written all over his face.

“You’re a dwarf.” I heard him say with a short laugh, making me roll my eyes.

“No, you’re a giant.” I said as I stood up straight, hands on my hips, “So, do I look okay? I assume you don’t have a mirror here, so you’ll have to tell me yourself.”

Mingi’s eyes ran up and down my body, taking me in, and I found myself blushing again, but his words were quick to chase away the fluster I felt, “Nah, you’re hideous. Don’t worry, at least the sirens won’t want you.”

“Sirens?” I asked with a pout, eyebrows furrowing, “I thought only mermaids existed.”

“Oh, Jongho will be elated to talk to someone about all of that, come.” And before I could even put up a fight that I didn’t want this Jongho guy talking to me, Mingi was pulling me after himself, fingers intertwining with mine once again.

            Three days have passed since I was taken hostage, and my papa still hadn’t paid up. Did he not love me anymore because I misbehaved and left the ball without his permission? Did he not love his little daughter enough to bring her back to the safety of his mansion? Was Mingi asking for too much? No, that couldn’t have been the case, we are rich. My father could pay however much Mingi asked in exchange for me, so that couldn’t have been it. But if that was true, why was I still here? It made me huff desperately as I twirled the golden coin between my fingers, looking at it intently. These past three days had been quite horrible. There was nothing I could do on this ship, everyone was rude, dirty, and quite smelly. They did the same things every single day, and refused to let me join them, throwing insults such like, ‘I was a spoiled brat who never shut up’ or that ‘I was rude and had no manners’. Those words were bold as they were coming from some nasty old pirates. The only acceptable man on this wrenched ship seemed to be that Jongho guy, who happened to be fascinated with folklore, and seemed rather eager to tell me everything he knew about it. I wasn’t quite interested per se of what he had to say most of times, but it took my mind off the pressing issues at hand. That being that I was bored out of my mind, and that I hadn’t had a normal milk bath in four days, and that the salty air had cracked my skin, drying it out. Every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the sad of an excuse of a bathroom they had on this ship, I jumped, and once even almost cried, barely believing that my beautiful skin was now burnt around my nose due to the harsh sun I got exposed to daily when I was up on deck. I wasn’t doing well; my thoughts were turning grim as well. I just wanted to be back at my mansion, surrounded by the cool air, the spacious rooms, my books, the nice perfumes wafting through the rooms, the beautiful garden, and my father. I couldn’t live like this anymore. I was supposed to be pampered, not mocked, insulted, and ignored.

And Mingi was making the whole experience even worse, annoying me at any given chance, playing with me, and taunting me. Yesterday, he refused to let me have lunch, stating that ‘I had misbehaved that morning, and now I was being punished for it’. If it weren’t for Taeri, the red-haired girl, then Mingi would’ve locked me in his room, leaving me banging on the door and screaming after him. Despite not liking most of the pirates on this pathetic excuse of a ship, Taeri seemed to be quite enjoyable. She was soft spoken and very nurturing, and she checked in on me every morning, making sure that Mingi didn’t make me uncomfortable. I found that rather generous of her, and quickly begged her to let me be her roommate for as long as I had to stay on this ship, but she nicely let me down, telling me that she was, unfortunately, already sharing a room with Yunho. I found that rather peculiar, but after close observation of the two, I came to the realization that they were in love. I have never felt that emotion, but based on all the books I have read, their romance looked exactly the same like in those beautiful stories. Their eyes were filled with warmth, and Yunho would never stop smiling when Taeri was next to him, and I didn’t fail to notice how protective he was of her as well. Perhaps I was jealous that Taeri managed to find her lover, meanwhile me, a very desirable woman was still waiting for her prince. It was rather sad, but I decided not to dwell more on it while I was on this pirate ship, I would find my prince surely once I get back to my old life.

Currently, Mingi and I were crammed up in his small and ugly room, a floorboard near his bed cracked in, which I have discovered two days ago with disdain as my foot went through the hole, ankle almost getting stuck as I screeched for Mingi to get it out, fearful of all the insects and rats that would touch my skin. But Mingi, like the asshat he was, just stood laughing and making fun of me, walking closer, and mocking me until I broke down in tears, making his eyes widen as he finally crouched down and gingerly pulled my leg out of the hole, muttering something about me being overly dramatic before he left the room, offering me time to change into day wear clothes. I was lucky with Taeri being here, her clothes were almost a perfect fit as she was nice enough to borrow me one of her leather pants and two shirts. However, Mingi refused to let me wear Taeri’s shirts, and hid them on top of his closet, where I couldn’t reach them. He was a menace and he loved tormenting me, so deciding to turn this against him, ignoring every particle in my body screaming at me to act like the lady I was, I went ahead and unbuttoned the top buttons of Mingi’s shirt each morning, leaving my cleavage exposed, the silky gown the only clothing item that covered my breasts. The first time Mingi saw me, he turned red like a tomato, and spluttered on about me being inappropriate as he marched up to me and quickly buttoned the shirt up, giving me a warning look to keep it that way while we were up on deck. But, of course, I didn’t listen to him, and to my utmost disgust, I had a slimy pirate grabbing after me, spluttering disgusting things in my face about my body and what he was going to do to me, until I raised my fist up high and connected it against his wrinkly nose, hearing a loud crack. Mingi was by our side in a moment, reprimanding me for my actions, up until I told him why I had done what I had done, shocked to find Mingi throwing another punch at the old pirate, blood flowing down his face after the second blow to his nose. The Captain had rudely called for us to stop and scramble off, calling for a man named Yeosang, apparently the crew’s doctor. And if I thought today I would have a normal day while Mingi dragged me up on deck in the morning after the both of us got changed, I was extremely wrong. I had pulled my hair in a low bun and was watching Yunho and Taeri spare, eyes following their moves curiously, wondering what it felt like holding a sword. Mingi had abandoned me, apparently having to help Yeosang in carrying some heavy barrels from some chamber under deck, up on deck, both of them sweaty by the time they got up. I was sitting on a barrel, playing with a golden coin I had borrowed from Jongho last night at dinner while he was too busy showing me the drawings of this one supposed Siren that he had met. It was rather hard to believe, I had thought the man was simply crazy, but Seonghwa was there to confirm, that they indeed have captured a Siren not too long ago, but due to some issues with another pirate crew, the Siren escaped.

I had sighed loudly, the wind carrying it away, as my eyes fixated longingly on the shore, which seemed to be even more far away than it was when I had arrived on this ship. Jongho had said that the Navy’s fleet had been scouting the waters, having a hunch that perhaps I had been kidnaped by the pirates, so we had to sail out a little bit further, where they wouldn’t find us. The thought was disheartening, knowing that Lieutenant Kim wouldn’t be able to save me. I had quite quickly grown bored of watching Yunho and Taeri spare, so I jumped off the barrel, and walked towards an opened chest, finding it filled with different sized weapons, some big shotguns in it as well. I leaned over and brushed my fingers against the sharp blade, gripping the handle of the dagger curiously, dropping it in exchange to hold onto the end of a shotgun. I had seen weapons before, my father would hunt every now and then, but I was never allowed to hold one. As my curiosity got the better of me, and nobody was actually paying attention to me, I took the shotgun in my hands and straightened up, surprised by its actual weight. I pursed my lips as I raised it up, narrowing my eyes as I continued to inspect the shotgun, noticing that it was covered in gunpowder. I suddenly realized that Mingi smelled the same, and it made me wonder why that was. Could he be the one who wielded these shotguns? But before I could dwell more on that thought, firm arms suddenly wrapped around my middle, pulling me into a sturdy body, and I gasped loudly as I almost dropped the shotgun.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Mingi’s deep voice whispered into my ear, his lips brushing against the skin just barely, “Might have to up the sum for daddy dearest.”

My heart was beating like crazy, hands slightly shaking from the fright he had given me, but also from the sudden proximity, and body pressing into mine. Mingi didn’t seem to be too bothered by the lack of space between us, and I cleared my throat, hands tightening around the shotgun.

“Maybe I should try and see how this weapon works,” I smirked, turning my head to look up at Mingi, “I choose you to be my target.”

Mingi chuckled, lips pulling into a dashing smile, and for a second I forgot how to breathe. His once long blonde hair was now extremely short and spikey, sticking up in all directions. Two days ago, it came quite as a shock seeing him before dinner as he had walked inside our shared room, muttering about how he didn’t want to risk getting his hair pulled like I had done, therefore, he got rid of his long locks. At first I had thought he was crazy for cutting his beautiful, soft, long hair, but one day later, I realized maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. His already sharp features were even more highlighted now, eyes appearing sharper, his cheekbones high and well-defined, certainly attention grabbing, and his jawline chiseled. It also made his tall nose stand out more, the little mole underneath his eye and close to his jawline only adding to his charm.

“Hmm, I thought you were my target, princess.” Mingi muttered, eyebrows raising as he snapped me out of my thoughts, suddenly aware of how badly my face was burning. And it wasn’t from the sun.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “I’m hardly a target, love, I could fight you anytime. I thought you had seen how I punched that old fool.”

“Yeah,” Mingi smirked, raising an eyebrow as his arms tightened around my middle, making my breath hitch, “But that’s an old man, not a young one full with strength and life. Just because I let you have your way around, doesn’t mean I’m weaker than you—or that you can overpower me, darling. It’s quite the opposite, actually.”

As I opened my mouth to retort back, I was suddenly very forcefully pushed forward as Mingi veered me slightly to the side so the chest wouldn’t be in the way, and suddenly, I was caged in between the railing and Mingi’s body. My hips dug into the sturdy wood harshly, making me groan as one of Mingi’s hands slowly slipped up my torso, grabbing my jaw harshly. I hissed and tried to yank my head free, but I couldn’t as Mingi wasn’t budging. My heart beat frantically as my grip on the shotgun tightened, trying to focus on what was happening. On what Minig’s real intention was by doing this, trying to find a way out.

“Cat got your tongue now, Y/N?” Mingi whispered, voice low and close to my ear, rather sinister. I gulped, but remained silent, refusing to back down, “I could overthrow you without even lifting a finger, precious, and you wouldn’t even be able to scream for help.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I opened my mouth to do just that, knowing that Taeri was still on deck, but suddenly the hand holding my jaw tightly slipped to my neck and Mingi’s fingers covered by rings suddenly curled around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my body tense as my air was cut off. I started to panic as Mingi just chuckled and watched me struggle against him, his eyes glued to the side of my face. I gripped his left arm with my hand and dug my nails into his skin, hopeful that it would make him release me, but he just chuckled and applied more pressure to my throat, making my eyes widen as I realized I was slowly starting to choke. Caged in, unable to push him off or even move away, I realized I had to find another way to break free. But my brain was losing air and my body had started shaking, I didn’t know what to do. I could only hope someone would notice and finally stop him, but it seemed like nobody cared. Not even Taeri, so, I had to save myself again. And so, as a last-minute desperate thought, I raised my left leg high and brought it down hard on Mingi’s foot, hopefully cracking his toes. He let out a loud howl, instantly releasing me and stepping back, making me double over as I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, heartbeat fast and skin burning. I threw the shotgun on the floor and gripped the railing hard, feeling tears spring to my eyes. The audacity this stupid pirate had, made me beyond furious.

“You might be stronger,” I hissed as I turned to glare at Mingi, “But I’m smarter, you asshat!”

And with that, I had stormed off, tears rolling down my cheeks as I tried to calm my breathing and reassure myself that nothing actually has happened to me, that Mingi was being an idiot and was only trying to piss me off, which he had succeeded in doing. So, hours later, he was paying for it. I hadn’t spoken to him since that incident this morning, and after he finished whatever stupid duties he had on this stupid ship, he had come down to his room. He had paused in the doorway when he saw me sitting at his desk, feet up as I sat low in his chair, playing with the borrowed coin from Jongho. Mingi said nothing, but his eyes slightly narrowed as he walked further inside, coming closer. Despite my heartbeat picking up again, I ignored him, slightly surprised that he left me alone for once. He grabbed a book and very loudly jumped towards his bed, groaning as his large body got tangled in the sheets smelling like vanilla. I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes, and found him leaned against the wall, feet dangling off his bed as he had opened the book, lips sucked in as his eyebrows furrowed. He wore a black tank top today, his muscular biceps on display, a shiny golden forearm bracelet hugging his left bicep tightly. It was a sight that threw me off guard, only to realize that I quite liked the visual it offered. Mingi’s narrow waist was once again highlighted by the thick leather belt tied around it, the black tank top tucked inside his matching leather pants. He had a pearl necklace at the base of his neck, hugging the skin tightly, and another longer one that reached between his pecks with a moonstone as a pendant.

I smirked, an ingenious thought forming in my mind, serving as revenge for what he had done to me this morning. I pushed the chair a little bit further back, making it screech deliciously against the wooden floorboard, quickly averting my eyes when Mingi glanced my way over his book. I crossed my legs over one another as I relocated them towards the edge of the desk, sighing loudly as I slipped down lower in the chair. I flipped the golden coin between my fingers, tapping my nails against it occasionally. I checked to see Mingi’s reaction, but he seemed unbothered so far, so I smirked, and let out another sigh, louder this time. I licked my lips and groaned as I threw my head back, pouting in the process, staring out the small round window. I felt eyes on me for a second, but I ignored Mingi as I continued with another loud sigh. Then, I paused, making sure he was reading again before I started tapping the desk with the heel of my right leg, hitting the edge of it just the way I had wanted. I chose a steady rhythm for it, sighing every so often, putting the next step of my plan into action.

“What is my papa up to right now…” I muttered with a pout, “I wonder why he hadn’t paid up yet…”

I sighed loudly again, hitting the desk rather harshly, the sound louder. There was the flip of the page, Mingi didn’t react—yet, “Is there possibly something wrong?”

I hit my heel against the desk again, “Did something happen to my papa as well? I wouldn’t be surprised if these ugly and stupid pirates somehow got to him too…”

I heard Mingi shuffling on the bed before he cleared his throat, but I just continued acting oblivious as I was pouting, still staring out the window, “Or what if he never got the letter…oh, no…I’m stuck here forever!”

I started sniffing, making quiet crying sounds as Mingi cleared his throat again, eyes set on me with a glare. But it didn’t faze me as I quickly shook my head, taking a deep breath, my heel coming down against the desk rather harshly, “What if…what if he doesn’t love me enough to save me?!”

I sniffed loudly, tapping my leg against the desk louder and more frequently, stare boring into the coin in my hand as Mingi huffed loudly, but didn’t speak up just yet. Fine, then I would try this in a different way, “God, I’ll never see Lieutenant Kim ever again! How I wish I never turned him down! Then I wouldn’t be in this God-awful place, rotting away, my beauty hidden from the world…”

There was a scoff but as my eyes snapped to Mingi, he was looking at his book, his mouth pulled into a sneer. I smirked, tapping the desk lighter now, eyes boring into Mingi’s handsome face, “Oh, the luxuries he had promised me. I should have said yes, he is the perfect match for me. He cares for me so deeply! He would’ve done anything for me—I wouldn’t even be here now with this—irritating, smelly, ugly, and dumb pirate, who’s room is falling apart and smells like rotten fish.”

Mingi’s jaw locked as he licked his lips, eyes narrowing as they quickly snapped up, making me avert mine as I sighed dreamily, eyebrows in a frown. The boat was rocking rather softly today, the waves not as harsh as yesterday, “Oh, and this terrible ship is so awful! Every day I get more and more homesick. I wish that my papa would just—ow!”

I yelped loudly as something hard hit my head, making me bolt up from the chair, eyes wide as I whipped my head around to look at Mingi. He was glaring at me as he had his arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps bulging.

“Just shut up, Y/N, heavens, I can’t listen to your annoying voice for any longer!” He hissed; voice irritated as he glared daggers at me. My disdain turned into amusement as I leaned my hip against his desk, smirking at him.

“Oh, poor little Mingi, bothered by a fragile woman who can’t even defend herself.” I mocked him, pushing my lower lip out in a fake pout, “God forbid he can’t read his stupid fairytale book, or else he’ll turn into a whiney toddler—”

“I’m one fucking second away of gagging you, Y/N.” Mingi hissed, pushing himself off the wall. I rolled my eyes with a snort.

“Your threats had been all empty so far, love.” I smirked, flipping through his book lazily, “You’ll have to do more if you want to scare me into silence.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mingi’s voice dropped and my eyes snapped to him when I heard the bed creaking, slightly widening at the annoyance clear on his face. As he went to stand up, I panicked and did the first thing that came to mind, threw his book at his face. Mingi barely dodged it, eyes widening as he looked offended.

“Hey! Stop throwing my books at me!” He exclaimed, glaring at me as I stormed up to him, towering over his sitting form.

“You started it now!” I hissed and reached around him, grabbing the book off the bed to hit him over the head. Mingi gasped and tried to shield his head at my continuous attacks, making me smirk when he couldn’t swat at my hand to make me stop. It was rather amusing, watching the tall ‘scary’ pirate trying to get away from a smaller woman, but unable to do so. I started laughing as Mingi whined loudly, leaning backwards and moving his torso in funny ways to escape me.

“Stop it!” But I didn’t care to listen to him as I continued laughing, finding the situation amusing, until I felt something soft hitting my side forcefully. I gasped, eyes going wide as I froze, staring down at Mingi. I had placed one knee up on the bed to be able to reach his retreating form, and now it was Mingi smirking at me as he held his pillow in his hands, raising it overhead to hit me with it. The impact left me huffing loudly as I dropped the book on the floor and dived for the only other pillow before Mingi could get his hands on it too and leave me defenseless, twisting my body so that I could hit him with it. It made contact with his face and Mingi groaned as I started giggling, hitting him some more as I got on the bed on both of my knees, amused that Mingi couldn’t hit back as he had to recoil from my constant pillow attacks. But then, he was suddenly straightening up and throwing a menacing glare at me, which made me laugh harder, as he started hitting my side again. My stomach started hurting from laughing too much, but I couldn’t stop as Mingi continued to whine and ask me to stop while I continued hitting his back with the pillow. He wasn’t even getting hurt, so I didn’t understand why he was so whiney about it. It was fun.

He released the pillow with one hand and tried to grab at my waist, but I kept hitting his arm with my pillow, making him huff and puff in irritation. Then suddenly, he threw his pillow to the ground, and as I smirked in victory and raised my arms to hit him over the head with my own, he lunged forward, making me yelp as his body crashed into mine. I dropped the pillow and wrapped my arms around his neck as I felt us falling backwards on his bed, my back hitting the soft sheets soon enough. My chest was raising and falling rapidly, and so was Mingi’s, as his breath hit the side of my neck, sending me into another set of giggles as I stared up at the ceiling amused. Mingi’s hands gripped my waist firmly, his weight crushing me as his lean body melted into mine. My legs fell open on both sides of his hips, and as my giggles finally stopped, I could hear Mingi snickering as well, his warmth engulfing mine, and making my cheeks burn once I realized the position we were in. I had never had a man all over myself, certainly not while lying in bed, with him nestled between my legs and almost laughing into my ear. The scent of vanilla mixed with gunpowder was strong, and I sniffed quietly, unconsciously taking a deeper whiff of Mingi’s familiar scent. I gulped loudly, arms tightening around Mingi’s neck for a second before I slowly withdrew my arms, hands dragging against the skin of his neck. I felt the silver clasp of his pearl choker before my hands continued on tracing his shoulders, until the fell on both sides of my head. Mingi slowly pushed himself up, resting on his elbows as his eyes ran over my face. I gulped again, my stomach flipping weirdly as Mingi shuffled a little, his lower half pressing into mine, making me gasp quietly as Mingi’s eyes bore into mine. I licked my lips, watching as Mingi’s eyes dropped onto them, his own mouth slightly opening as his breathing got heavier. My eyebrows furrowed as he bit his lower lip, head very slowly lowering as he glanced back up in my eyes, my heart beating so fast I could feel it in my neck. But as his hot breath hit my face, I realized that whatever we were doing was unethical and would ruin my purity surely, so I acted on impulse. My left hand raised and I opened my fist, dangling Mingi’s pearl choker between our faces. He suddenly froze, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the choker bewildered before looking back down at me, a questioning look on his face.

“What?” He muttered quietly, touching his neck with his left hand lightly, as if to make sure that I did indeed take his pearl necklace without him noticing. I chuckled as I smiled at him cheekily, just shrugging as I played with the necklace, admiring it for a second. But my amusement was quickly gone as Mingi gave me a long stare, a smirk slowly blooming on his face as he raised his left hand, a golden hairpin clear as day in his hand. My mouth dropped open as I stared at it, raising my hand to touch my, now nonexistent, bun. When did he pull it out of my hair? And how? Nobody could get it out of my hair without pulling on the strands painfully, not even Soojin or Soyeon.

“How?” I whispered impressed, making Mingi shrug as he smirked proudly.

“I have my ways.” He winked, and then suddenly pushed himself off me, dropping the hairpin on my stomach. He cleared his throat as he got to his feet, ruffling his spikey blonde hair before patting his clothes down, extending his hand out towards me. I placed the necklace in his hand and watched as he quickly clasped it back around his neck.

“I’ll go help Yunho now, don’t wander around, San isn’t in a good mood today.” Mingi instructed as I sat up, twirling the hairpin in my hands.

“Who’s San?” I asked confused, and Mingi paused in the doorway.

“He’s…not someone you want to meet, so, please, stay here.” His tone was the most serious I had heard him use, and I nodded in understanding, “I’ll send Taeri to entertain you.”

“Thank you.” I flashed him a small smile, and he was out the door, leaving me with a frantic beating heart, and a hotness all over my body that I had never felt before. What was Song Mingi doing to me?

            It would seem like today wasn’t out day. Arguments would ensue too often throughout the day, and I could only blame Mingi for it as he always found something to bother me with. If the pathetic scare he tried giving me this morning wasn’t enough, he had went off on a rant right before dinner that I was taking up all of his space, and barely offered him any privacy. He also accused me of stealing a few of his precious jewelry, which I had not done as I had zero wishes to steal anything that belonged to this dumb pirate. And despite seeing said jewelry around Yunho’s wrist and neck during dinner, Mingi made no effort to apologize to me for the accusations he’s made earlier. And if that wasn’t enough to put me in a bad mood, certainly him telling this other girl on the ship, Jung Hana, that I was a nuisance and stuck-up brat, so she shouldn’t even bother talking to me, set me off as I had slammed the silver folk down on the table, whipping my head around as I flashed Mingi a deep glare.

“Would you stop trying to veer everyone away from me?!” I had snapped, voice high pitched, “Maybe I’m not the problem here, Mingi, but you.”

Mingi had snorted, spoon in his mouth as he had taken a bite of his dinner, “Sure, there’s no possible way that a spoiled princess is the problem instead of a humble pirate, who’s trying to simply live his life—”

“A rather pathetic excuse of a life.” I cut him off, unaware of the eyes on the two of us, “And you’re far from being humble, Song Mingi. You always try to bring me down, but you fail to realize that you’re just as horrible, arrogant, and annoying as I am, you asshat. Telling Yeosang yesterday that despite being a doctor for so many years he was quite shit at stitching people up, berating Jongho for having his head in the clouds instead of taking his duties more seriously, laughing at Taeri when she failed to lift that horribly heavy chest filled with weapons, and even telling your own Captain that his decision making had been questionable lately, are certainly out of good intention, right, Mingi? And not because you’re just an arrogant man who thinks highly of himself, certainly not looking down on the people around him?”

Mingi’s jaw had clenched as he gripped the spoon tighter in his hand, knuckles whitening, “You know nothing about me, and I advise you shut up if you don’t want to become shark dinner.”

“Oh, spare me, Mingi.” I hissed, nose flaring, “Unless you mean what you say, stop wasting everyone’s air.”

“Get up!” Mingi’s voice was suddenly deep as it boomed around us, making a few pirates flinch as they weren’t bothered enough to watch the exchange between the two of us, “Get the fuck up, right now!”

“You will not tell me what to do, you filthy—” I gasped as Mingi grabbed my bicep and yanked me up to my feet harshly, making my eyes widen. I pulled on my arm, but his grip tightened as he tried to make me step over the bench we had been sitting on, but I wouldn’t budge as I held onto the table. Somebody cleared their throat, but my eyes were set on Mingi only, my face red from anger as my heart started racing. His eyes had significantly darkened, and his breathing was heavy, eyes narrow slits. Gone was the playful and arrogant Mingi, instead a frightening man stood in his place, probably finally ready to throw me overboard as he had reached his limit.

“And you will learn your lesson tonight, princess.” Mingi hissed, making me tumble almost to the floor as he pulled on my arm harshly, forcing me to step over the bench.

“Song Mingi.” It was clear who’s voice it was, Yunho sounded slightly concerned, “Stop.”

But neither Mingi nor I were paying attention to anyone but the other, “Do you think I don’t hate this as much as you do, Mingi? You ripped me away from my life and forced me to live on this—ship filled with pirates, who would love to do bad things to me—and you expect me to just listen to you and respect you?”

“Have I given you any reasons not to?!” Mingi’s voice raised as he closed the gap between our bodies, his hot breath fanning against my face, “Have I treated you like any of those pirates? Haven’t I been looking out for you?! Haven’t I been keeping you safe?”

“You kidnapped me!” I screamed and tried to push him away, but he didn’t even flinch.

“For your money!” Mingi screamed back, “I demanded nothing else of you when I could’ve! I could’ve done horrible things to you, and I didn’t.”

“And do you want me to bow down, and thank you for that?” I scoffed, sneering at him, “You want me to thank you for acting like a human being with me?”

“Yes, you could fix your attitude starting there.” Mingi snapped, and I bit my lip in frustration, uncomfortable now that I realized everyone was watching us, gaping at us. I didn’t want to do this anymore; I don’t even understand why we had to snap at each other every single time a little inconvenience happened.

“Excuse me if my papa failed to teach me how to apologize, because I will be not apologizing to you when you only insult me all the time.” I tried to yank my arm free again, but Mingi still wasn’t budging. His eyebrows furrowed and he leaned down, looking me in the eyes.

“When have I insulted you?” He chuckled, and I released a deep breath to try and stay level headed.

“Just right now?” I asked with a disbelieving laugh, “You think that I’m stupid and good for nothing, that I don’t respect people, and only use them when I need something from them. You keep saying I’m stuck up and look down on anyone who’s bellow my status—when have I treated you like that?”

“Don’t tell me when you saw me at that stupid ball you didn’t only want to approach me because you thought I was rich?” Mingi scoffed, rolling his eyes as I bit my lower lip, heart hammering in my chest.

“I didn’t—it was one of the factors, but not the main one—” My thoughts were running a mile per hour. Mingi was right, in some way, but he also didn’t know everything. He couldn’t possibly have realized that I stopped caring whether he was rich or not.

“What’s the main one then, huh?” Mingi snapped, cutting me off as I averted my eyes to the floor, cheeks flushing. I didn’t want to say it, not in front of everyone. I was embarrassed, but Mingi’s fingers only tightened around my bicep, and I sighed, swallowing my pride for the first time in my life.

“The same reason for why I trusted you since the moment you made that creepy man go away at the pub. Because you made me feel safe, because despite not knowing me, you looked out for me. Because you never once tried to approach me at the ball, unlike every other desperate man there, and you didn’t even want to stick around at the pub. I know—I know it was probably part of your stupid scheme, but if you wouldn’t have been gentle and nice to me, I would’ve never allowed you to hold me like that while I was drunk and out of it.” I took a deep breath as I felt Mingi’s grip loosen significantly, “The same reason as to why I didn’t throw a tantrum when you wouldn’t sleep on the floor, when you refused to put pillows between us while sleeping. For the same bloody reason, Mingi, why I asked for your help with my corset when I could’ve easily asked Taeri.”

I let out a shuddered breath, feeling Mingi’s hand slowly slip down my arm, covering my skin in goosebumps in its wake, lips slightly trembling from the embarrassment I felt admitting all of that without an ounce of privacy, “I can’t help it that I was raised like this. I can’t help but look at my maids and feel little compassion for them because serving me is their job. And I know I’m mean and vile to them, but I care for them. I always did. They’ve been there for me when nobody else was. I never had friends because my father wouldn’t allow me, but Soyeon and Soojin were there, they played with me and cheered me up. I know I’m horrible, but I always showered them with gifts, and anything that I didn’t need anymore.

“I can’t help the fact that when I look at you I see a simple man, hard-working, but just barely making it through each day, when my father raised me to be able to pinpoint the differences between a poor and a rich man. It’s not my fault that the first thing I look at are your clothing, shoes, and jewelry, to determine your wealth. It’s not my fault that my governess taught me etiquette, and that I was reprimanded every time I would slouch, laugh loudly, or even as little as mumble my words. I never had a mother, she died while giving birth to me. I can’t help the fact that I cling onto whoever gives me even a little bit of affection and care. I was never allowed to do what I wanted; I was never allowed to explore. I’m locked up in my mansion all day, listening to my father and his disgusting old friends, wondering when a prince would finally find me and whisk me away. I’m sorry if you think I’ve been a…bitch to you, but I do not know how to act when I’m around people like you. I only see hierarchy. and the filth that surrounds me here.”

I fell silent for a second, taking a deep breath as Mingi watched me stunned, gripping my wrist almost as if afraid that I would disappear. The silence that stretched on was awkward, even when Seonghwa softly whispered my name from the table, “But it doesn’t mean I’m not open to learning. To forgetting all the prejudice I was raised with. To letting go of society’s norms, to find myself and learn who I really am underneath all the lavish and puff, the huge dresses, and fake tea parties. I was willing to learn, Mingi, but you never gave me a chance. You just…assumed I’m a stupid, stuck-up bitch, and went with it, never failing to remind me of it. You never saw how curiously I watched you each time you were working, discussing the guns with Seonghwa and your Captain. You never paid enough attention to notice the longing stares I would give Yunho and Taeri whenever they were sparring, wanting to learn as well. And you never looked long enough to see the smile on my face each time I would spot my favorite book on your desk, fingers tracing the title, fondly remembering the time I had snuck the book out of my father’s library to read it overnight, getting punished for it the next day because I had taken something from the forbidden section.”

“Y/N…” Mingi sounded breathless as I stepped back, suddenly aware that tears were rolling down my cheeks, even more embarrassed when I glanced towards the table. Hana was cuddled up into Yeosang, who looked sorry, Seonghwa and Taeri mirroring his expression. Hongjoong was eating, looking rather irritated by the commotion, but I didn’t miss the exasperated glare he sent at Mingi. Yunho was glaring at his best friend, arms crossed in front of his chest as he shook his head, and Jongho looked mad as he was glaring at Mingi. I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the rest of the pirates I didn’t know as most seemed amused as I quickly wiped my tears and looked at Seonghwa.

“I’m sorry, my appetite is gone.” I muttered, stepping back from Mingi, and giving him a look when he tried to grab me again, “But dinner was delicious, even better than the one’s at home usually are.”

Seonghwa smiled warmly, nodding his head once, “Wooyoung is our original cook, but he’s still got some weeks until he returns to us. It’s a pity you won’t get to meet him.”

“Yeah, a pity.” I sighed, not knowing whether I was happy or not about it, “I wish you all a good evening, I hope I hadn’t ruined your evening.”

“Y/N!” Mingi called out as I turned and stormed off, almost running into a man out in the hallway as he was about to step inside the kitchen. His already sharp eyes narrowed and I furrowed my eyebrows, my skin covered in chills due to the dangerous smirk on his lips. His eyes traveled over my body and he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you a treat, princess?” His voice was smooth and as he attempted to step towards me, I held a hand out.

“You must be San, then.” I recalled Mingi advising me to stay away from him, something about him being really dangerous.

“Oh,” He chuckled, making me tense up as he licked his red lips, “and who are you?”

“None of your business,” I snapped, glaring at him when he tried to step closer again, “I’m here with Mingi, either way.”

A defeated look crossed his face for a second, before he hummed, “What a pity, you would’ve made us a lot of money.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I took a step back, unsettled by his words just as much as I was confused, “Of course Mingi would pick you, a noble just like him, but even richer. I bet his mother would be elated if he returned home with you, all of his sins forgotten.”

“Good night.” I snapped, feeling uncomfortable as I didn’t want to find out about who Mingi was by someone else. I wanted him to tell me about himself, but after the argument, I was sure he’d ignore me until my father finally pays up. I stormed off towards Mingi’s room, not waiting for San to say anything else, weirded out by his whole aura and the hunger in his eyes as he watched me.

And the evening passed by fast after that, I had changed into my night gown, borrowed from Hana, and laid in bed, contemplating over everything that’s happened to me so far. I really wanted to go home and forget everything that’s happened, ready to close this chapter and leave it behind me. Perhaps there was a moment when I had considered Mingi to be the prince I have been longing for, but after tonight, I have concluded that the two of us didn’t belong together. We are too different, too prideful and stubborn to ever admit to our faults, to even try to fix our damaged…friendship? I didn’t know what to consider ourselves, but Mingi was the closest thing to a friend I could ever have, with Taeri, and perhaps, Jongho as well. I had been laying in the dark, on my back, when the door opened and Mingi’s tall frame walked further inside the room, closing the door carefully. The floorboards were old and creaky, yet I could hear him being careful as he shuffled towards his closet, taking a peek at me. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, to which Mingi moved even more carefully as he opened his old closet door, gasping when it almost moved off its hinges again. I carefully opened an eye, taking a peek in Mingi’s direction. He had his back to me and both of my eyes snapped open as pulled his black tank top off his body, his broad back exposed to my eyes. My face flushed as I watched him change, until I realized he might want me to offer him some privacy, prompting myself to squeeze my eyes shut. I stopped breathing when I heard him moving around again, only to feel the bed dip next to my body. Mingi’s room was small, and so, his bed wasn’t very spacious for two people, but we somehow made it work to stay far away from each other when sleeping. The blanket shifted for a second and I felt Mingi slip in underneath, softly releasing the breath I had been holding as I shifted, turning my back to him. Mingi sniffed once and didn’t bother to speak up, so I forced myself to keep my eyes shut and just fall asleep. The quicker the next day comes, the better.

But it was easier said than done when my mind was reeling with thoughts, forbidding me from sleeping. I bit my lower lip as I shifted for the nth time, facing Mingi, but never opening my eyes to see him. I could feel his gaze on me, but I didn’t want to actively acknowledge it. I was embarrassed by the scene we had caused in the kitchen, and especially for saying those things to him in front of everyone. That wasn’t how I wanted to pour my heart out to him, to admit that I had started feeling something for him. I couldn’t define what it was, but it was something. And it made me hope that I would be able to leave this place soon, scared that I would fall for the pirate. Nobody’s ever treated me as humanly as him before, teaching me that I wasn’t as special as I once had believed. Perhaps I was privileged, and I had failed to notice that. With a quiet sigh, I turned back onto my back, the old mattress shifting with my movements as a low groan came from Mingi. I almost opened my eyes, but instead decided that now I would fall asleep—except that suddenly there was movement next to me, and suddenly a weight was pressing me down into the bed, making my eyes snap open as Mingi grabbed my arms and pressed them on each side of my head, grip firm. I gaped up at him as he sat on my hips, eyebrows deeply furrowed. It was dark in the room, but the moonlight shone through the little round window, falling on Mingi. The shadows falling on his face made him even more intimidating, and I came to the startling realization, that Mingi’s shirt was completely undone, his torso exposed. Before I could stop myself, my eyes glazed over his well-defined body, toned chest and firm stomach, cheeks flushing as I looked back up in his eyes, throat dry all of a sudden.

“Stop moving so much, I can’t sleep.” Mingi snapped quietly, eyebrows furrowing.

“I can’t sleep.” I muttered, frowning back at him, “Is it necessary to pin me down, Mingi?”

“Well—” He seemed to realize what he had done, cheeks turning darker instantly, but he made no effort to move, “Will you stop, then?”

“Once I fall asleep—”

“I’ll kick you out.” Mingi quickly cut me off, making me roll my eyes. My heartbeat was steadily quickening, a warm feeling overtaking my whole body once again the longer Mingi sat on top of me.

“Kick me out, then, I’ll go sleep in Seonghwa’s room or something.” I scoffed, adding quietly, “Maybe even Jongho’s.”

“No.” Mingi’s tone was serious and his hands slightly tightened around my arms, making me raise an eyebrow at him, “I mean, no, you don’t have to do that when you can sleep here…with me.”

“Not if you kick me out.” I muttered, body softening under Mingi. He gulped and paused for a second, sitting back on his heels as he slowly released my arms, my fingers brushing against his with a small smile. My face was burning, but so was his, so I didn’t pay it much attention. He must feel flustered as well, then.

“I won’t kick you out.” Mingi whispered, looking off to the side. My smile widened as my fingers firmly grasped the sturdy object in my hand now, feeling around the silver ring. It was warm, due to Mingi wearing it all day long, and it was almost a little crooked, as if Mingi had been wearing it for a long time now. I raised my hand and looked at it, but held it in a way Mingi couldn’t see it. My movement caught his attention and he looked back at me, eyebrows slightly furrowing as he pouted, turning his head to try and see what was in my hand.

“Did you know I really liked rubies?” I asked nonchalantly, swiftly slipping the ringer on my ring finger. Of course, it was rather large for me, but I could still play around with it.

“No, you never told me.” Mingi whispered, closely watching me.

“You never asked, about anything for that matter,” I looked up at Mingi, licking my lips, “You never bothered to get to know me, you know?”

As Mingi opened his mouth to say something, I turned my left hand around, watching as it took a few seconds for Mingi to realize what he was staring at. His eyes widened and he went to quickly check his own hand, his ruby ring indeed missing.

“How did you do that?” He asked, sounding slightly disturbed, as he caught my hand in his, “I didn’t even feel it.”

I smiled cheekily, allowing him to slip the ring off my finger to place it back on his middle one, “I’m quite good, aren’t I?”

Mingi chuckled and nodded once, slightly leaning back down, my muscles tensing at the shift of his weight on top of my body, “I think I should be given some credit too; don’t you think?”

My eyes widened as he casually dangled my favorite bracelet in my face, which had been on my right wrist before Mingi had gotten on top of me, “How did you do that?”

“Just like you did.” Mingi chuckled and motioned for me to extend my arm towards him, so I did. He carefully placed the thin bracelet around my wrist and clasped it shut, fingers softly grazing against my skin. I gulped as I looked up in his eyes, an intense look crossing Mingi’s face. My heart started racing again, and I found myself yearning to feel him closer to me, just as close as he had been earlier today after the pillow fight. The thought was alarming, but I couldn’t help but want it more. But to my surprise, Mingi moved off of me, laying back down next to me, his hand brushing mine after he settled underneath the blanket again.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N.” He muttered and as I glanced at him, I found his head turned towards me as he was looking at me with a solemn look on his face, “You were right at dinner, I made no effort to get to know you, to look past your attitude and actually try to see who you truly are. I’ve insulted you countless times and even tried to turn the others against you, I’m sorry.”

I hummed as I turned my head to be able to look at Mingi easier, biting my lower lip for a second, “I’m sorry too, I was horrible with you. I know I’m difficult, but I was scared, and just wanted to go back home. I’ve never been away from the manor like this and everything is just…new. I didn’t know what type of man you were, so I thought remaining cold would push you away, and you’d just leave me alone and return me to my father sooner.”

Mingi chuckled and lightly shook his head, “Nothing you do could veer me away from money.”

I chuckled and nodded; however I felt a little bitter knowing that Mingi only needed me for my money. That perhaps he wasn’t even in the slightest interested in me, just my money. And it was possible that that was the case, “Are you just…really not interested in me?”

It was weird hearing myself sound so small and almost insecure, wanting to understand Mingi’s thought process.

“That’s not it,” Mingi sighed, turning his head to look up at the ceiling, “I see myself in you, you know? That’s why I never bothered to treat you better, because I knew that once I got what I initially wanted, you’d be gone. You’d be back to living your perfect posh life, marrying some rich guy and never once having to worry about anything. And I found myself jealous of you.”

“Jealous?” I asked surprised, turning onto my side to face Mingi, my undivided attention on him.

“Yes,” Mingi whispered as he gulped, taking a deep breath, “I was born and raised in the Sun Rise Kingdom as well, just like you. And it would surprise you, Y/N, but I’m from a rich family. Not as rich as yours, we could never afford ourselves a mansion, but we did bathe in milk thrice a week. And my parents were affluential people in my town, had some ties with the Queen as well, but I was never too invested in the family business to learn more about that.”

My eyes had widened as I looked at Mingi, who’s eyes found mine as he turned his head, a small smile on his lips, “I was raised by a harsh governess, who lectured me too often about my behavior. I was never good enough or smart enough compared to my older brothers, and I was never talented enough. My parents neglected me quite often, my middle brother turned into my main caretaker, basically.”

Unconsciously, my hand moved under the blanket until it found Mingi’s hand, and our fingers intertwined as I squeezed his in reassurance, “Things only started getting worse when they found out I stole from people. Anything I could get my hands on, would end up in my grasp by the end of the night. I knew it was bad, but I couldn’t stop myself. It’s like I wasn’t in control when I was doing these things, it was very humiliating. Especially when the constable caught me and locked me up for a whole week. My parents were very disappointed, and after that, they never treated me the same.”

“Mingi.” I whispered and he smiled sadly, eyes glistening in the moonlight.

“They rarely allowed me to leave the house, but I would sneak out to play with the neighbor’s kids. They didn’t like me much, but I was desperate to do anything to play with someone, and so they would often chase me towards the cliffs, where they would tell me to leave them alone unless I wanted to get in trouble.” Mingi chuckled, but a somber look crossed his features, “My luck ran out one day. I stood too close to the edge and slipped. I don’t remember much from there, just the sharp rocks and the cold water, my lungs burning and eyes stinging.”

“That is horrible.” I whispered as my eyebrows furrowed, and without thinking first, my right hand went and cupped Mingi’s cheek, his skin soft and warm underneath my palm. Mingi’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, before he took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, smiling softly.

“I woke up a week later, on this ship.” He chuckled, amusement written all over his face as he lightly pressed his face more into my palm, nose brushing against my wrist, “I was terrified, everyone looked so scary. I was raised by posh people, surrounded by aristocracy and cleanness all my life. The stench on the ship was horrible and I threw up way too often until I finally got used to it. At first, I begged Captain Kim, Hongjoong’s father, to take me home, but the closer we got towards the shore of the Sun Rise Kingdom, the harder I started realizing that this was the most freedom I had ever felt my whole life. Nobody treated me bad here for not being smart, nobody lectured me for misbehaving, and Captain Kim even seemed concerned over my well-being as he had raised two sons of his own. He was gentle with children. And some of the boys were already here, Yunho took me under his wing almost immediately. It was a foreign feeling having a boy close to my age so friendly and nice to me. He genuinely wanted to be my friend, and I finally had stopped feeling alone. I had realized I didn’t want to return home anymore.”

I chuckled, fingers lightly grazing against Mingi’s cheekbone, “So you stayed and became a pirate? How did you manage, Song Mingi? The once rich boy, now poor and smelly.”

I giggled as Mingi rolled his eyes, “I’m not smelly. But yes, it was hard at the beginning. I had to work to earn my money, and I wasn’t good at anything. Until Captain Kim showed me how to deal with guns, training me to become their best gunner. And I found a family within the crew, although some of them are questionable people, I still consider them my family.”

I smiled as I nodded, a warm feeling settling in my chest. So much made sense now, his gentleness and understanding. He was respectful, and carried himself with grace. He looked nothing like a pirate once out of his silly clothes, and it all made sense now as to why, “But why are you jealous of me?”

Mingi chuckled, and I was startled as he pressed a small kiss into my wrist, looking down as his cheeks suddenly flushed red, “Your father cares about you. He loves you and would do anything to have you back. I never had parents like him. I’ve always felt lonely and weird when I was around my family. Despite my middle brother taking care of me, I knew he wasn’t too fond of me and was only doing it because he felt pity towards me.”

“Just because my father loves me, doesn’t mean I don’t feel lonely.” I whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion. I’ve never opened up to anyone before, “I—I don’t have any friends. I’m alone in the mansion, unless my father is at home. I can’t talk to most servants as they are around my age and my father forbid them from doing so. I only have my two maids, who hate me. And my governess always preached on about me having to remain pretty so that a man would want to marry me. She taught me manners that would appeal to a rich man to take me as his wife. I learned everything else I know on my own, browsing through my mother’s books, which are in the forbidden section of the library. I never got to know her, and yet I miss her every day. I wonder what she would have been like, if she would have treated me like my father or not. If she would’ve locked me up in the mansion like my father does, or would’ve let me discover the world on my own. You taking me here is the most fun I’ve had my whole life, Mingi. I don’t hate it as much as I say I do. Although, the stench does get horrible at times.”

Mingi chuckled as his eyes found mine, and I grinned, “You deal better with it than I did.”

“Because I’m better than you.” I teased and Mingi rolled his eyes, suddenly shifting closer as he turned onto his side too, our bodies facing each other as our knees touched underneath the blanket, our fingers intertwined, “Did you know people who have this urge to take things, to collect them, are called kleptomaniacs?”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed and he slowly shook his head no, “Well, I think you might be one.”

“Really?” Mingi asked quietly and I nodded.

“Yes, because I think I am one too.” I grinned as I started playing with Mingi’s ruby ring, his eyes falling on the item, “Because I also take things from people. It started out as a prank at first, back at the mansion. I would take things without people noticing and wait for the servants or my father to start searching for them, wanting to see how long until they realized they weren’t there. But I always got away with it, so I became bold. I started stealing from other people, and I was never caught. I’ve been stealing jewelry and smaller items since I’m ten, Mingi.”

“What?!” Mingi looked alarmed, and I giggled, nodding my head.

“It’s bad, I know.” I shrugged, “But what started out as a joke became a serious issue as I couldn’t stop anymore. I do it without noticing now. I just see something pretty that I would like to have, and the next second I find it in my hands. If my father were to find out, he’d certainly be horrified by his little daughter not being perfect anymore.”

“I think you’re perfect.” My cheeks flushed as Mingi whispered, eyes racking over my face, almost as if searching for something.

“Your compliments feel a lot more sincere than the ones I’ve been getting back home from all the other men.” I muttered, finding myself thinking out loud. Mingi’s fingers tightened against mine, and I looked away embarrassed.

“Because they are sincere.” Mingi’s tone was firm, his voice deep, “I wouldn’t say something I don’t mean.”

I chuckled, raising an eyebrow, “So, I really am a bitch?”

“At times.” My eyes widened at his sincerity, but before I could pull away, Mingi chuckled, “But you’re also quite cool. I never expected a lady like you to punch a man, let alone break his nose.”

“I was mad.” I tried to defend myself as Mingi hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I realized I had my hand on his face still, so I quickly pulled it away and noted how calm I felt, wrapped in the vanilla and gunpowder scent.

“I think we’ll get a letter from your father soon.” My eyebrows furrowed at Mingi’s words, something in my stomach suddenly dropping. Why did the thought not feel so inviting anymore? Why did I find myself wanting to spend a little more time with Mingi?

“Oh.” I whispered barely, eyebrows furrowing, “Will you tell me stories of your childhood?”

“Do you want me to?” Mingi asked surprised, and I nodded with a smile, “Alright, so…”

And I closed my eyes to listen more attentively, his eyes too distracting to be looking at Mingi’s face, but I found his deep voice soothing as it lulled me to sleep.

            Waking up in the mornings had always been difficult back home, in my comfortable Queen-sized bed, but here on the ship it seemed to get even more difficult. Perhaps it was the even rocking of the ship, or the warmth, which enveloped my whole body, making me feel content as I would nuzzle further into the silky pillow, Mingi’s vanilla scent strong as I could hear him snoring lightly or groaning in his sleep. But today, the vanilla and gunpowder scent seemed more prominent, the warmth emanating from next to me almost making me feel hot, and instead of the silky pillow, my head was pressed against something harder, firmer, and certainly warmer. I had started to stir upon hearing some loud voices down the hallway, outside the safety of Mingi’s room. I couldn’t understand their words, but a woman and a man were certainly arguing. Yeosang and Hana never seemed like the type to argue, and meanwhile Taeri and Yunho could get riled up by each other, I’ve never actually heard them argue in front of everyone all these days I’ve been here on this ship. A door down the hallway was slammed shut loudly, and I sighed loudly, licking my dry lips as I pressed my cheek a little harder against my pillow. It took a few more minutes to become aware of the weight around my waist, or the way my bare calf was brushing against another clothed leg. Growing suddenly stiff, my eyes snapped open, only for my jaw to fall slack as I was presented with an alarming image.

I was laying all over Mingi, right leg thrown over his hips as it was comfortably slotted between his legs, my right hand intertwined with his left one as Mingi’s fingers would absentmindedly flex around mine. I gasped as I looked down, the blanket hanging low around our hips, the skirt of my nightgown ridden up to my thighs, making my cheeks flush. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, and I couldn’t help but not only feel embarrassed, but…I was suddenly overcome with a fiery need as my fingers tightened against Mingi’s, holding his hand a little firmer. My breathing progressively got harder, and I allowed my eyes to rake over his tan chest, muscles now soft but toned, Mingi’s chest rising and falling evenly as he was still asleep. I couldn’t help but gulp as I found the sight of Mingi completely ravishing, a foreign need in my body urging me on to press a kiss against Mingi’s right pectoral. Mingi sighed softly, and I raised my head slightly to watch as his eyebrows furrowed before he settled back down, seemingly still asleep. I bit my lower lip, eyes fixated on his perfect face as the sunlight poured in through the little window, perfectly falling on his handsome face. Mingi mumbled something, and I froze, eyes widening in fright that I was caught. But his eyes were still closed and he sighed again, his tongue peeking slightly out as he licked his lower lip, gulping before another sigh left his lips. My eyes had been fixated on his plush lips, and I found my heart beating faster as I envisioned what they would’ve felt like pressed against mine, soft and warm, no doubt devouring mine in a feverish kiss. I gulped as shivers ran down my body, stomach clenching, and I realized that I had to get away from Mingi, that I needed fresh air to clear my thoughts. To sort out these weird yearnings of my body towards this pirate, decide whether they were happening because I’ve been spending too much time with him or because, indeed, I had started falling for him.

So, I very slowly tried to peel myself off Mingi, but when I went to move my right leg off his body, suddenly his hand holding mine released my hand and went to my naked knee, grabbing it and holding it flush against his hips. I froze as I bit my lower lip, realizing that this would be harder than I thought initially. I sighed quietly and tried again, but his other arm only tightened around my waist and I was suddenly yanked back into his body, making me fall back against his chest with a loud gasp.

“Stop moving.” Mingi croaked out, his morning voice gravely deep as he groaned. My cheeks flushed instantly as I found my body shivering, something coiling in my lower stomach. I have never felt like this before, having never been this close to a man, never so desperately having to hold myself back from doing something I might regret later.

“Mingi,” I whispered, trying to collect myself, “we have to get up.”

“No, we don’t.” Mingi groaned, and I stiffened when I felt his calloused palm caressing the back of my thigh, reaching just a bit higher, underneath my nightgown. My heart was racing in my chest, right fingers fisting the bedsheet next to Mingi’s torso. Mingi’s breathy voice and closed eyes were a clear enough sign that he hadn’t fully woken up yet, and I tried to ignore the way his fingers dug into my skin around my waist, “It’s too early.”

“I don’t think it is,” I mumbled, turning my head to look towards the window, “The sun is high up in the sky.”

Mingi scoffed, and I felt him shrugging, “So what?”

“Don’t you have duties you have to attend?” I whispered, looking up at him, and I had to stop myself from pressing a kiss against his jaw.

“Nothing too urgent,” Mingi sniffed and then groaned as his fingers flexed against my naked skin, “they can wait a little longer.”

I’ve never in my life before had the urge to straddle someone, and my jaw clenched as I raised my head off Mingi’s chest, staring down at his face intently, “Mingi, I need fresh air. Right now.”

He tsked and only grabbed me harder, hitching my leg higher up on his body, and I gasped as Mingi pulled me on top of himself, large palm pressing against my lower back as he gingerly started massaging me through the light fabric of the nightgown, “What are you doing?”

Perhaps the strain in my voice finally snapped him wide awake, or the fact that our lower bodies were pressed against each other, something pressing against my thigh as I gulped, afraid to move. Mingi’s eyes snapped wide open and he raised his head, looking down at me. He froze as he took me in, no doubt my whole face flushed, and lips red from how much I had been biting them. Mingi’s face reddened instantly, and he averted his eyes, which had started slipping down my neck and chest, the nightgown having slipped a little lower across my chest. It didn’t help that Mingi went to sleep with his own shirt unbuttoned, firm torso on full display as I suddenly pressed my hands against his bare chest, sitting slightly up.

“Fuck.” Mingi hissed as he threw his head back, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he gripped my waist, stabilizing me. I had thought the same thing, but I couldn’t say it out loud as I was a lady, but his hardness was suddenly pressing against me in a rather sensitive spot, making me gasp. Mingi’s fingers tightened around my waist as I shifted subconsciously, the friction foreign but not unpleasant at all, “You have to get off.”

“I’ve been trying to,” I was breathless as Mingi looked at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “But you wouldn’t let me.”

He gulped and nodded once, eyebrows furrowing, seemingly in deep thought for a second, “Because I want you.”

My eyes widened at his words, lips parting as I gaped at him, never having heard those words from a man before. I knew what it implied, I had read a romance book once where things took an unexpected turn, but nobody has ever said those things to me up until now. It made my skin tingle, my cheeks flush a darker color as Mingi’s intense eyes stared up into mine, eyebrows slightly furrowing.

“But I’m going home soon,” I whispered, completely at a loss because I found myself wanting him as well, “And I…we can’t.”

“I know.” Mingi gulped, trying to mask his disappointment, but I could hear it still tinge his tone, “Of course I do. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” I cut him off, almost desperately, “I—I think I also—”

The door suddenly slammed open and I jumped as Mingi instinctively pulled me down against himself, bringing the blanket over my body as he hugged me into his body around my middle. I watched with wide eyes and a racing heart as the Captain walked a little further inside the room, arms crossed in front of his chest, giving us a scrutinizing gaze. He looked unimpressed and almost exasperated as he sighed loudly, rolling his eyes for a second, “Your father wrote us a letter. He wants you home today, the money is prepared. The exchange happens at noon, so get up.”

Something dropped in my stomach when I heard those words, and I found my fingers curling into Mingi’s shirt, as if I didn’t want to leave, to let go of him. But wasn’t that what I’ve wanted all this time? To go home? To forget about Mingi and everyone else, and just continue living my life the way I was supposed to? To find a rich husband, marry into a rich family, and raise children of my own? Wasn’t that the plan all along?

“Aye, Captain.” Mingi’s tone lacked any cheeriness or playfulness, and I found myself reluctant to look at him. It sounded like he wasn’t ready to return me to my father just yet. But the Captain grunted once before he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Mingi and I moved at the same time, his arms freeing me as I scrambled off him, suddenly aware of what I almost allowed to happen if the Captain wouldn’t have walked in. I was ready to give myself to Mingi, and I didn’t know what to do with that revelation as I stumbled for a second, hissing as I had almost stepped into that wretched hole in the floorboards. This is why I needed to go home. I didn’t belong here; I didn’t belong with Mingi. I was an aristocrat, Mingi was a lowlife. We would never work out our differences. We weren’t right for each other.

I stiffened as I grabbed my clothes, realizing that they weren’t even mine in the first place, and would have to wear the dress I had arrived in. But I didn’t have it in me to put it on myself, not when I haven’t had a milk bath in almost a week. I couldn’t dirty my mother’s dress like that, it had already been damaged, much to my dismay.

“I’ll go change, be back in ten.” Mingi’s voice was small as he got off the bed as well, headed towards his closet.

“Just change in here,” I found myself muttering, turning my back to him as I slipped the nightgown off myself. I knew I just exposed myself to him completely, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care anymore. Everything felt bitter, my mind a mess as I suddenly didn’t know what I wanted anymore, of where I belonged, of who I was. Mingi remained silent and I heard him shuffling around, probably changing too. I quickly wore my short silky gown, and pulled on the low V-neck black t-shirt Mingi had borrowed me yesterday over it, saying that it would be cooler today. I tucked the material inside the leather pants belonging to Taeri, and then quickly put on Mingi’s white shirt, only buttoning it up to my chest as it was covered by a different material underneath. I gazed at my corset longingly, remembering seeing Taeri wear it once like that, over her shirt. So, I grasped at it and sighed, placing it around my torso. It brought little sense of familiarity, of something that I once wore daily not even a week ago. But now it felt weird, still undone yet already constricting, a reminder of who I was, of what I was walking back to.

“Mingi?” I cleared my throat, finding it rather dry all of a sudden. When he hummed, I spoke up quietly, “Could you lace up my corset?”

His intake of breath was sharp, perhaps a reminder that not even six days ago he was the one undoing it, welcoming me inside his life, now about to send me away from it. He hummed without saying a word, and I heard him as he walked closer, taking the lace from my hands as he softly started pulling on them, securing them.

“How tight?” He asked, his voice raspy and low as my jaw clenched.

“Tight.” Was the only thing I said, and gasped lightly when he pulled on the strings harshly, forcing me to brace myself against the chair in front of his desk. My fingers curled around the sturdy wood with each constricting knot, biting my lower lip as my lungs were once again struggling to fill to the brim with air. This is what I was used to, a little reminder of what my life was like before Mingi whisked me away from my monotonous days. Before he made my days more enjoyable, and showed me that there was a life worth living, a life you could enjoy to the fullest.

“Are you alright?” His voice sounded small, and tight, and I hummed as he laced it up fully, tightening the top and doing the last knots to it. I took a deep breath and sighed loudly, palms turning into fists as Mingi gently tapped my waist as a signal that he was done, that I was ready. But I didn’t feel ready, I was far from being ready. I bit my lower lip as my heartbeat picked up again, conflicting thoughts racing in my head as I heard Mingi inhale sharply, prompting me to whirl around.

Our eyes locked, and before I could list all the reasons why this would be wrong, I lurched forward just as Mingi grabbed my cheeks, our lips smashing together. My eyebrows furrowed as I finally felt his plush and soft skin against mine, lips exactly the same way I had imagined them. I’ve never kissed a man before in my life, but it felt right to have Mingi be the first one to do so. My arms quickly wrapped around his neck as I pushed up on my tip toes, leaning my body against Mingi’s as he pulled back for a second, before pressing his lips against mine again, slotting his upper lip between mine as he lightly sucked on my lower lip. Everything felt new, but exhilarating as my cheeks burned, lips pressing against Mingi’s desperately, trying to allow him to lead, to guide me as the feeling was foreign, but oh so good. His warm hands left my cheeks in exchange to grip my waist and the back of my head as his ring clad fingers tangled into my long locks of curly hair, his nose pressing into the warm skin of my cheek as I found myself desperate to feel more. I became aware that I had quickened the once experimental pace Mingi’s lips had set, and was now pressing my lips harder against his, ravaging his mouth as Mingi whined when my fingers subconsciously tangled in his short hair, delicately yanking on the strands. His grip on my waist tightened, and I felt him walking me backwards hurriedly, his lips pressing bruisingly against mine as I was suddenly overwhelmed by the strong scent of vanilla as I tried to inhale through my nose, lungs long burning due to the corset, but due to Mingi stealing my breath away as wll. My left hand slowly slipped down to his jaw to hold onto him as our teeth suddenly clanked together, slightly startling me, but only urging me to chase after Mingi’s lips when he attempted to pull back. My teeth latched onto his lower lip as the back of my legs hit the desk behind me, and I sucked on Mingi’s lower lip as he pushed me down onto the desk, groaning against my mouth as I found myself licking at his lips, wanting even more of him. I didn’t recognize myself for a second, but this is what I’ve wanted, and I was done repressing my wants and needs because they were wrong or not lady like. I wanted Mingi, and I would get what I wanted from now on. Nobody could control me anymore. I was my own person.

I gasped as I felt Mingi’s big hand slip down from my waist towards my thigh, and his calloused hand firmly gripped it as he yanked me lower on his deck, back arching when I felt his lean body pressing against mine, stepping between my legs. My hand let go of his jaw as Mingi instead of holding the back of my head proceeded to tilt my chin up with the steady grip he had on it, and softly, but surely coerced my lips open, mouth parting for him. I sneaked my hand around his narrow waist covered with his leather belt, moaning into his mouth when I felt his tongue just lightly, teasingly, slip past my lips, licking inside my mouth. My body felt alive, skin tingling, and senses heightened as Mingi’s whole being enraptured mine, the only thing being him on my mind as he explored my mouth, liking at my tongue as my legs wrapped around his hips, caging him against myself, and Mingi groaned, his kiss turning feverish. Our tongues danced together, and I normally would’ve been embarrassed by the soft keens leaving my mouth, but this was Mingi, and I knew he wanted me, and I wanted him back just as badly. I didn’t want to ever let go of him; afraid we’d never find our way back to each other. My lungs had started burning as dark spots started appearing behind my closed eyes, and as much as I never wanted to part from his addictive lips, I needed air. So, I softly pulled back, gasping loudly as my chest was rising and falling rapidly, lips parted as I intake small gasps of air. Mingi leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine, his breathing just as ragged as mine as our breaths tangled together, our pants loud in the quiet room. There was the occasional wave hitting the side of the ship harsher as we tried to regain ourselves, but I found myself clinging tighter and tighter against Mingi, both legs wrapped around his hips and pulling him into myself as my fingers dug into his black silky shirt, silver chains dangling around his neck and chest as he was slightly leaning forward.

“I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time now.” Mingi whispered, voice raspy as he sounded breathless. My eyes slowly fluttered open, and I watched as his eyes were still closed as he looked at ease, almost content as his lips were swollen, even plumper than they usually were.

“I’ve never been kissed before.” I found myself admitting as Mingi slowly opened his eyes, a small smile slipping onto his lips as he cupped my cheek with one hand, pressing a lasting kiss on my forehead first. My heart was hammering in my chest violently, and I flushed even more as he kissed my temple, then my eyes, my cheeks, nose, and the proceeded to plant a lasting kiss against my lips, making me clutch onto the collar of his shirt, refusing to allow him to pull back just yet. Our lips slowly started moving against each other again, and Mingi shuddered when I bit his lower lip again, yearning to remain close to him, wrapped up in his warmth and comforting vanilla scent mixed with gunpowder.

“I couldn’t let you go just like that.” Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed once we pulled just slightly away, our noses brushing against each other. His eyes were casted downwards, and I felt my stomach clenching as I realized what he was implying. Suddenly, there was a desperate need clawing up my chest to never let him go, afraid of what that implied. We barely spent a week together, but I couldn’t imagine my life without him anymore. Even if we fought and teased each other, getting on each other’s nerves, leaving him behind felt…wrong. What if we could work on our differences? What if Mingi could teach me, and guide me towards being a better person? What if I just…left my old life behind to live with this silly pirate? Would my father understand? Would my mother be proud of me up in the Heavens?

“I don’t want to go,” I found myself confessing, Mingi’s eyes snapping open as he stared at me in disbelief. I gulped as I took a deep breath, body slightly trembling, but conviction in my eyes. I have made up my mind, and as I leaned forward, lips brushing against Mingi’s, I felt his body soften into mine, hands cupping my cheeks as I whispered against his lips, “I want you, Mingi.”

            The wind was harsh and cold as it rocked the small boat, the two pirates struggling to row against the big waves. Salt water sloshed inside the wooden boat, and I tried to keep my feet away from the water, but instead, a stronger wave managed to hit the side of the boat, big droplets of water splashing my side, making me gasp loudly as it soaked my attire. Mingi had an amused look on his face as he sat facing me, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up almost to his biceps, straining as he was rowing as well, sweat shinning on his forehead in the beaming sunlight. Mingi had been right, the weather today was colder compared to the other days, and I was grateful that he borrowed me thicker clothes. As I looked over Mingi’s shoulder, my fingers clenched against each other as they were resting in my lap, intertwined, as I had noticed my father pacing up and down the shore. He seemed to be alone, nobody else in sight, and I could only assume that the deal would only proceed if he didn’t bring anyone with himself. My body was tense, and my stomach coiled the closer we got to the shore, eyes traveling to the high hill, falling on the window that I knew was my room. I was so close to returning home, barely minutes away from being in my father’s arms. But as my eyes fell on Mingi, who had turned around and instructed the other three pirates with us to stop rowing, I realized my life would never be the same. I didn’t want to go back to how it once was. Mingi turned in his seat, sharp eyes finding mine.

“Are you ready?” He asked, and I nodded once, making myself smaller as I caught another glimpse of my father, who had stopped pacing, and was now looking our way. My heart was hammering in my chest.

“Proceed with the plan.” Mingi’s firm voice instructed the other three pirates, and I gulped as two got off instantly, their feet barely reaching the sandy ground of the sea. I watched as the third person wearing my mother’s beautiful dress reached his hand out, almost comically elegantly, the two other pirates hauling him out of the boat. To my father, that man looked like it was me, a white veil covering his head to make him unrecognizable. I watched as the three pirates went closer to the shore, the one looking like me staying behind, making almost desperate sounding noises as he seemed to be slightly struggling to swim forward. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched his caricature performance, but wondered if that’s how these pirates had been viewing me all this time. As if sensing my doubts, Mingi’s hand reached forward, and he grasped mine tightly, leaning down to look me in the eyes, but still making he was covering me with his broad form from my father’s eyes.

“Are you sure, princess?” His voice was firm, “You can still change your mind, I won’t hold you back.”

“Mingi,” I sighed, intertwining our fingers tightly, “I have made up my mind. I want this. I want you.”

A beaming smile appeared on his face, and I don’t think Mingi had been ever handsomer than he was right now in the sunlight, his adorable front teeth slightly more forward than the rest, his sharp eyes disappearing, and nose scrunching. My stomach clenched and heart stuttered, and I found myself wondering if it was just a matter of time until I realized that I had fallen in love with him the second I had laid my eyes on him. At Mrs. Boo’s ball, when he had knocked that servant with all the delicacies over, leaving nonchalantly as if nothing happened, eating that cherry that had landed on the floor like it didn’t even happen. He was a genuine man, different from all those trying to court me just because I had money. Those men never tried to look past my wealth and beauty, they never actually cared about my thoughts and feelings. Not even Lieutenant Kim. But Mingi saw me,and wasn’t afraid to correct my mistakes, to enlighten me. He listened to me, he was curious about me, and he wanted me just the way I was. I couldn’t help but smile back at him, blinking away the tears that formed in my eyes, blaming it on the harsh sunlight. But my attention was quickly back on the pirates in the water as I heard my father’s desperate cries.

“My little daughter!” The third pirate was still far from reaching my father, but he was still waddling towards him without much struggle, “Oh, my precious Y/N! Are you alright?”

There was no answer, and I could see the worry on my father’s face as he grabbed the smaller chest he had by his leg, eyebrows furrowed. He looked like he had grown older these past days, and suddenly I felt sorry for him.

“Give us what we came here for, old man!” A pirate holding a sword demanded of my father as he finally reached closer to the shore, and I watched as he pushed the chest clumsily towards the pirate, before recoiling as the sword was now pointed at him, “Nobody knows about this, yes?”

“No, no!” My father quickly exclaimed, sounding desperate, making me pout as Mingi chuckled, “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone—I just want my daughter back!”

“Good.” The pirate chuckled, and started pulling the heavy looking chest further inside the water as the other pirate, who had been paddling just behind, reached him, helping him out with the chest. They both started returning to the boat, moving a lot slower due to the added weight. The third pirate looking like me was still not close enough, but my father could certainly see him better now.

“Oh, dear Lord, thank you for returning my daughter!” I heard him call out as he took a step towards the water, grimacing as his boots got soaked, “Come, Y/N, come, papa is here.”

“Your father is a hilarious man.” Mingi muttered as he watched my father with a snicker, making me throw a glare at him.

“Don’t make fun of him, he’s been very concerned, probably hadn’t slept in days.” I scrutinized him, making Mingi’s smile turn sheepish, “I feel bad for what I’m doing to him, but it’s time I take control of my own life.”

“You can still go back—”

“Mingi,” I snapped, eyes narrowing at the handsome pirate, “I’m starting to think you don’t want me anymore—”

“I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life, Y/N.” Mingi’s words were rushed as his fingers tightened against mine, eyebrows furrowing.

“Good,” I smirked and yanked on our linked hands, making Mingi fall forward as the boat swayed dangerously with his movement, “Because you will never get rid of me now, love.”

“That was the plan, darling.” We chuckled at the same time before Mingi’s lips pressed firmly against mine, salty from the wind, but soft and warm. My eyes fluttered closed as I grabbed his nape, breathing him in, impatient to get back to the ship and learn of everything he had to offer me. But just as Mingi would’ve deepened the kiss, there was a startled shout coming from the shore, and we broke apart, turning to look towards my father. He looked shocked as the pirate had ripped the veil off his head and was laughing loudly, sticking his tongue out at my father before he turned around, and started swimming quickly back towards the boat. The other two pirates had reached us, and Mingi stood to help them place the chest inside the boat, watching as they got in the boat as well, waiting for their mate.

“What is the meaning of this?!” My father screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran inside the cold sea water, waggling his finger towards us, “Where is my daughter you filthy pirates?!”

“You really are his daughter.” Mingi chuckled as he cheered on the third pirate, motioning for him to swim faster, but the dress seemed to be rather constricting.

“Stop it.” I huffed as Mingi just flashed me a cheeky smile, completely amused as he watched my father trying to desperately move closer, but he was afraid of the water. He couldn’t swim, he’d never be able to reach the boat here. That’s the reason why we had stopped here, because I had told Mingi to stop here.

“Where’s my daughter?!” My father screamed again, slapping his hands angrily against the water, “When the Navy fleet finds you, you dirty pirates, you’ll be finished! Finished! You will all perish; you’ll be punished for what you’ve done to my daughter! I will watch your execution with my own eyes, you filthy pirates!”

“He’s not very creative with his words, I must note.” I slapped Mingi’s ass hard, making him yelp and jump, almost tipping the boat over as the other pirates yelped, holding onto the sides of the wooden construction.

“Stop being an asshat!” I snapped, standing up as the third pirate finally reached us, whining about how heavy the dress felt, and that he wanted it off himself. The other two helped him in, and Mingi sat down, the three pirates now starting to row, taking us back to the large ship, to the notorious pirate crew, called Ateez.

“Papa!” I screamed, heart breaking a little upon seeing the shocked and desperate look on my father’s face, “I am completely fine! Papa, they didn’t hurt me!”

“Y/N?!” I heard my father scream back desperately, looking lost.

“Papa, I want this! I want to stay with Mingi!” I screamed back, waving at him happily, “Papa, I’m finally happy! Mingi is going to take me on so many adventures! I promise I will write you letters, papa!”

“Come back here right now, Yoon Y/N!” I heard my father scream at the top of his lungs, now looking furious as the pirates rowed against the currents, taking me further away from my father. I just giggled, and waved some more.

“I promise to return sometime! Look forward to my letters!” I blew a big kiss, beaming towards my father, “Farewell, papa!”

And all he could do was watch me helplessly as I became smaller and smaller the closer we got to the big ship. From this point on, I dictated my own life. I did whatever I wanted to, I behaved however I wanted to, I lived however I wanted to, and loved whoever I wanted to. My eyes fell on Mingi, and he was looking up at me with a proud and warm glint in his eyes, smile dashing and beaming as I finally felt free.

I chuckled, and sat back down, cupping his cheeks as I pressed a kiss against his lips in gratitude as he nuzzled his nose against mine.

“Your adventure, Yoon Y/N, starts right now.”

A/N: I want to thank all of you who stuck through the stories with me, it means so much to me, you wouldn't even understand. Writing is a great passion of mine and I dedicate a huge part of my time to it, they are always little pieces of me as I love what I'm doing. I know this part is extremely long, and I feel slightly bad for it, but if you've reached the end and you're reading this, I just really want to thank you all for your continuous support and love shown through all of my stories, you have no idea how happy you all make me! Tbh, this story is one of my absolute favorite ones from the Black Ocean series, and I know our beloved Y/N here isn't the best at the beginning, but I promise she learns next to Mingi and becomes better in the future. I have planned a spin-off for San's part, no promises when I'll finally commit to it as I have to write my thesis as of now, but I say stay tuned for it if you enjoyed his part, I have zero intentions of romanticizing anything too much as his story is quite heavy.

I want to thank you all again for following through on this journey with me, I will always cherish it, their stories dear to me. I hope you enjoyed everyone's part and that my writing is enough for an enjoyable story, I know I still have a lot to learn to become even better. I'm just blabbering on right now LOL because I don't want this to end *CRIES* but every story comes to an end, and so here I shall close this chapter. I appreciate all and every one of you, thank you again for everything, and check out my masterlist if you'd like to read more of my stories! *kisses*

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