#do you know how EXHAUSTING it is to have to deal with a part of the population

[imsandra]

A breath

Pairing: Azriel x female reader

Summary: In the silent embrace of the night, Azriel found in Y/N the comfort he never knew he needed.

Warning: Fluffy comfort, I think that's it.

Word count: 1120

Notes: I believe many creators have written similar pieces, so this may not be a new concept. Feel free to leave your comments, suggestions; everything is welcome as long as it's with the intention of teaching and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my work.

I appreciate any comments, reblogs, and likes I receive.

Happy reading!

Master list

The night in Velaris always had something special, but this one, in particular, felt magical. The gentle murmur of the Sidra River, the mild air filled with the scent of night-blooming flowers, and the clear sky full of stars that seemed to shine only for those willing to observe them closely.

Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind. He had had one of those long days, the kind where the exhaustion wasn’t just physical but emotional too. Azriel had spent hours training the Illyrians, dealing with disputes, and making sure everything ran smoothly in the Night Court.

Y/N had seen him enter, his posture stiff, and the shadows around him more restless than usual. Since they had begun spending more time together, she had learned to read him, to notice when he was tired or when something bothered him, even if he never said it. That night, however, something inside her told her that Azriel needed more than just company; he needed someone to care for him for once.

Without a word, Y/N followed him to the sitting room where Azriel usually sat after his missions or training, right next to the large window that offered a panoramic view of the city. He was there, staring out at the horizon, the stars reflecting in his golden eyes, but without his usual spark.

With a soft smile, Y/N entered and walked up to him. She sat beside him in silence, respecting his need for quiet. She didn’t need to ask what was wrong; she knew him well enough to know he would speak if he wanted to.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she suddenly got up and said, "I’ll be back in a moment."

Azriel watched her leave the room without asking where she was going. In his mind, the shadows kept whispering, but there was something about Y/N’s presence that calmed them slightly. She always made him feel less alone, less lost.

A little while later, Y/N returned with a cup of hot tea in her hands and a couple of blankets. Without asking, she offered him the tea and then draped one of the blankets over his legs.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Azriel asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/N shrugged, smiling. "Taking care of you. You look exhausted."

Azriel took the cup of tea, surprised by how comforting such a simple gesture could be. No one usually took care of him like that. He was always the one looking out for others, the one protecting, the one watching over his loved ones from the shadows. But with Y/N... she made him feel like someone worthy of being cared for.

Y/N sat back down beside him, wrapping herself in a blanket, and gently snuggled up against him. At first, Azriel tensed reflexively, but then he relaxed when she intertwined her fingers with his, softly caressing his scarred hand. Though he hated the scars for the horrible memories they brought him, Y/N didn’t feel the same. To her, they were part of his story.

The touch was so light, so intimate, that it surprised him how much it soothed him.

"Do you feel better?" she whispered, without looking directly at him, her focus on the nighttime view of Velaris.

Azriel gently squeezed her hand in response. "Yes... much better," he answered softly.

The peace he had been searching for all day, the calm he so longed for, he found there, in that moment, sitting next to Y/N, with her hand in his and her warmth comforting him.

"You know," Y/N continued in a low voice, "you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own. You can rest, lean on someone every now and then."

Azriel remained silent for a moment, his thoughts deep. Y/N’s words resonated with him in a way that few things ever did. He was so used to being the shield for everyone else, to protect and care, that he rarely allowed himself to be vulnerable, even for a moment.

"Thank you," he finally whispered, his voice full of sincerity. "For this. For... taking care of me."

Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her smile soft and understanding. "I’ll always do it, Az. Anytime you need it," she told him, a promise between them.

Azriel turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, and in that moment, something inside him broke, in the most beautiful way possible. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Y/N’s, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply, letting her closeness envelop him completely.

They remained like that, together in the stillness, simply enjoying the peace they had found in each other. For Azriel, it was a reminder that it was okay to be vulnerable, that he didn’t always have to be strong—at least not with Y/N. And for her, it was a moment of tenderness, knowing that, although Azriel was a warrior in the shadows, in her arms he would always have a place to rest.

"Come," Y/N said softly, shifting a bit and pulling him down. "Let’s relax a little more."

Azriel let her guide him, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa as she nestled at his side, resting her head on his chest. His wings instinctively moved to wrap around them, creating a warm, protective barrier.

"I promise tomorrow will be better," Y/N whispered, her fingers gently playing with the dark strands of Azriel’s hair.

Azriel smiled for the first time all day, his hand softly caressing Y/N’s back. "With someone like you by my side, it will be."

Y/N kissed his cheek, and the spymaster blushed.

Under the blankets, under the night’s veil and the shelter of Azriel’s wings, they both found comfort in each other. A shared peace that didn’t need grand words or elaborate gestures—just a simple promise to always be there for one another.

*divider by @cafekitsune , thank you <33.

A/N: After an angst-filled Azriel x reader it's only fair to have a fluffy one. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry it was short, let me know what you think. Kisses, love you guys.

[clare-875]

Habits of Touch pt.2 (Ace, Law, Shanks)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Ace x Reader; Law x Reader; Shanks x Reader Summary: His favorite time/way to share physical affection with you. Warnings: Fluff, Slightly suggestive Notes: The above images do NOT belong to me, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1] _____

- Ace - Long days and Warm Hugs

When Ace loves it’s like you’re almost blessed with the comfort of a warm blanket wherever you may go. No matter if you had the most fulfilling or horrid day, Ace will seek you out; seek out your smaller form that also blesses him with a comfort only you could provide. You could hardly deny the man. How could you say no, when all you see is that wide, warm smile. How could you resist the hold he so easily provides, especially on days that seem to have no end. His hands were always gentle, his arms always wrapped around you tight. It was a sense of security and safety you would find yourself turning to every moment of your life. Ace loved it. Deprived of love in his early life, he now craves the ease at which you provide affection within his embrace. You gave a sort of comfort and a sort of love that he thought he would never find in his lifetime, but there you were every day of his life, so alluring and so utterly perfect. He adored your sweet scent that filled him as he went to embrace you. He adored your breathless laugh that reached his ears as he swung you around suddenly in his arms. He adored your gleaming eyes as you turned to him, full of devotion.

If he could, he would never let go.

Ace didn't see anything wrong with PDA, you were his and he was yours, and he would make sure that the whole world knew. Even as crew members often teased and laughed at his love-lorn state, all he could hear were your endearing words and laughter and joy. So even as his friends grinned provocatively all they would receive were passive words to leave the both of you be, they would never receive his eyes though, they were locked solely on you in his embrace. The times when your form meant most to him, however, were on long and draining days that made fatigue creep up on him. On days that maybe didn't go the way he hoped, or on days when darker thoughts swept the depths of his mind, you were the only one who could get him out of his forlorn state. Even his crewmates knew of this and sought you out whenever they saw the second division commander lose his usual lustre for life and adventure. He would do the same for you. You adored how his murmured words and you, buried within him were all you needed to lose sight of a long and tiring day.

If you could, you would stay in his arms for eternity.

"[y/n]~" His breath is mumbled into your form as warm hands inch their way slowly around your body. Suddenly you are engulfed by his arms and his heat and the scent of him. You laugh gently as he buries his head deep into the crook of your neck and breaths you in, while you reach your arms around his larger stature too. "Babe, 'm tired." You smile at his drowsy words and the childish charm that reached him after a long day. However, before you can reply, your world is suddenly turning as Ace falls to the bed by his side, pulling you with him as he does. You let out a slight gasp but he merely holds you tighter and you are trapped within him. "Let's stay here a while." You barely have any time to reply to his uttered words as he drifts to sleep, at peace knowing you are in his arms. "You'll be the death of me Portgas D. Ace." You say with a sigh, but your smile lingers within your words and his smile grows even in his sleep.

- Law - Late nights and Caresses

The entire crew knows of Law’s incessant need to be working until the early hours of the morning. The late nights spent on whatever research or stressors he deals with often taint his eyes dull and dark with lack of sleep. However, the crew also knows of the one cure to his constant exhaustion, the one cure to the irritation that brims throughout the day or evening and the headache he often harbours. You. If there’s anything Law craves more than peace from his thoughts, it is your touch that gives him that peace. Your fingers that carve through his hair are heavenly and as he is blessed by the ease of your touch, you are blessed by the sight of him in love. He wonders how a simple caress can rid of the stress he thought was endless as Captain of his crew, but your hands were divine as they raked through his hair. You were the centre to all he sought, and whenever he saw that the stress that lingered caught onto you too, he would find himself doing the same. During late nights when you needed comfort, his strong hands would carve themselves through your hair, providing release from a long and tiring day. However, Law would be lying if he were to say he didn't prefer it the other way around. He loved the way you provided comfort and care in silent recognition of his turmoil and the silent movement of your hands.

Tonight was no different.

You hear the creak of the door and look up from atop your bed unsurprised to see the dishevelled man that walks through it. It had been about an hour since you had last checked up on him, and now it was late into the evening, evident by the exhausted man before you. You sigh half-heartedly, slightly in concern, slightly in exasperation at how you can not get him to stop overworking himself. He groans as he quickly goes about the room getting ready for bed, and once he does, he all but collapses to your side. You put down the book you had been lazily skimming and turn to the man who is now lying next to you, eyes already closed. But you see the stress that still lingers, creeping up to him. Your hand moves as if on instinct to his soft raven locks, and your fingers gently thread through his hair. Almost instantly you see his reaction, as the etches of his face finally relax as though finally at peace. You continue and he moves into your gentle movements letting out a low hum of contentment. You smile at the sight of his ease, but, you then feel his fingers gently take your hand and you look down, surprised to see he has turned to you, his grey eyes looking at yours.

He guides you down to his side, and suddenly you are beside him, lying down and facing him, your book forgotten on the bedside table. You meet his gaze, surprised to see the deep emotion that shows itself in the late hours of the evening. His face is soft, and your hand still reaches out to him, caressing the depths of his hair. Momentarily you see his eyes close but one hand is still wrapped loosely around your free one. "Good night, love," he mutters, drowsy words almost slurred out to you. You feel your lips upturn at his gentle words and actions. "Good night Law, I love you." You are surprised further when before you drift off to your own sleep, you hear the same devotion softly muttered back to you.

- Shanks - Drinks and Waists

Shanks often finds himself among his crew, laughing and drinking as another day of success brings about another reason to celebrate. His allies also know this well, as oftentimes times when old friends would come by, they find themselves enraptured by the red-haired pirates' lustre for a party. However, unbeknownst to them, Shanks is never satisfied by the drink in his hand, never satisfied by the thrumming of music or the laughter of comrades unless a certain someone graced him with their presence. That someone? You. Unlike the allies that may come to join in on their celebrations the crew know of this all too well. Once alcohol has touched Shank’s bloodstream it only takes an instant for his eyes to wonder and his voice to call for you through the crowd. He will sulk like a child if you are not there beside him to celebrate the night with him. No matter how important the guests at the party were, or what occasion they were raising a beer to, his utmost priority was making sure you were by his side, his hands on your waist.

"Babe~" You smell the taint of alcohol on his lips as his hands roam to your waist before you are gently guided to his lap. You sigh and turn to your partner, who now has a slightly pink tint on his cheeks. "Shanks, I thought I told you, no more." You try to pry away the drink he looks to but you are surprised when he lets you move it away from him so easily. Instead he starts causing you to fluster as he places gentle kisses on your neck and pulls you tighter to him. "S-Shanks." Your words tremble in the air but he continues to hold you around your waist, and you are now almost straddling him. "Hmm, don't worry so much." His words are slurred against your form as you roll your eyes, but when you look up to meet his gaze, you are surprised to see them clear, as though sober. "You are beautiful, do you know that?" He whispers to you in the quiet of the slowly dying crowds within the bar. Your eyes widen momentarily at the sincerity of his words but you gently smile, caressing his hair as he thumbs gently circles against your hips. "Only because you remind me, like every minute of the day," you say teasingly, and are pleased to see the rising of red in his face at your words; the captain of the Red Haired Pirates, putty in your hands.

"Allow me to remind you, once again darling."

His words are uttered gently before you meet his lips with yours, the lingering alcohol now meeting you fully but doing nothing to betray your trust in his gently murmured words. By the end of the night, you are unsurprised to have to almost haul the Captain back to the ship, but his hands are still wrapped around your waist and pulling you close. "I love you, do you know that?" He whispers to you so bluntly and suddenly in the depths of the cool evening, it makes soft laughter erupt from within you. "Only because you tell me, every second of the day," you say softly, as the two of you finally make your way to where the ship is harboured. He then turns to you, eyebrows almost furrowed as he turns to you. "And you? Do you love me too?" He asks so softly and almost hesitantly, that you are caught off guard. You turn to his sincere but drunken gaze, still held tight next to him. You smile as your hand caresses his face gently. "Of course I love you." A grin enraptures his face before he leans onto you heavily, and you let out a heavy sigh knowing the alcohol has now lured him to sleep.

Just what will you do with him?

_____ @trinitrinitrini

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part III

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. gun/physical violence, blood, dead bodies, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

A/N: it's finally here! Sorry for the wait, things have just been really busy lately... but I hope you enjoy!

<< previous part || masterlist || next part >>

Living with you has been an absolute nightmare.

Obviously Jungkook had known that dropping poison in his champagne and whiskey wouldn’t be the end of your little assassination attempt; he’d expected you to continue doing whatever was in your power to make good on your threat. He may have been a little cocky about it too, teasing you over the fact that he was standing before you unscathed, but the logical part of him still knew to keep his guard up constantly. 

What he hadn’t realised was how exhausting it would all be. 

You’d been here only four days and Jungkook had already had to evade poison in his toothpaste, a suspicious looking pin wedged into the insole of his shoe, and garlic juice in his cologne- the last one seeming far from a homicide attempt and closer to just pissing him off. 

Dealing with that alone was one thing, because it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. But on top of it all, Jungkook hadn’t slept properly in days. He’d found himself dozing off for a few minutes here and there while holed up in his office at night occasionally, but he had mostly just stuck to spending his nights working, especially on the Park issue. He couldn’t risk actually sleeping in his office considering he knew that you had the ability to bypass the lock. And besides, as much as he would appreciate a few extra hours of sleep, Jungkook still had to be ready for if Jimin decided to attack again, even if he’d been quiet so far.

One of those preparations involved speaking with your father, which was why you and Jungkook were seated in one of the guest houses at 8:00 AM in the morning while your father was sat casually on the creme-coloured settee across from the mahogany coffee table before you both. The guest house was situated near the gates of Jungkook’s estate, still within its borders, but far enough that it had its own entrance and ensured guests wouldn’t end up too close to his house, just how he liked it. 

The initial meeting with your father had been awkward, though Jungkook may have been the only one to catch onto it. Your father hadn’t embraced you or kissed your cheek or told you how much he missed you, instead he had sent a formal nod in your direction before giving Jungkook a firm handshake. After that your father had barely spared you a glance, addressing Jungkook as if he were the only one in the room. You didn’t seem very offended by this either, your gaze instead drifting around the space looking almost bored as the two men conversed casually for a few minutes. 

It was an interesting detail, one Jungkook tucked into the back of his sleep-deprived mind. 

“The differences between the North and South have surprised me a ton,” Mr. Lee commented, taking a sip from the teacup in his hand. His accent was rough, no doubt a product of his upbringing in the South, “you guys do things a lot more softly here in the North.”

It was a jab, Jungkook wasn’t stupid enough not to know that, especially knowing how rough things were in the South. That comment was enough for him to know that your father was the type of man that liked to put others down to make himself seem superior. It only amused Jungkook though, because as per the culture, your father already had a bit of an upper hand since he was older, and yet he still felt the need to talk down to him.

Distantly, he wondered if your father’s personality had something to do with why you decided to hide your true personality even from him. 

“Yes, I suppose so,” Jungkook decided to reply dryly, not bothering to bite back. If he had learned anything, it was how to choose his battles, and an ego trip was not worth it in his books. 

Instead his gaze drifted towards your seemingly aloof form. It was a bit unnerving to see you look so quiet and proper, almost like he was being shown a third side of you. Your facade was still definitely up though, no one could miss the slight widening of your eyes and faint pout of your lips to feign an innocent look, but this version of your act was definitely more placid. 

Jungkook’s gaze travelled back to your father as he smiled, a sudden urge to get you to react overtaking him, “it’s definitely been an adjustment for your daughter.”

At your mention, your wandering eyes were reeled back to meet the gazes of the two men before you once again, but, unlike during the dinner with Taehyung and Chaewon, that was the extent of your reaction to the obvious dig. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in your direction as you continued to sit silently beside him, an innocent expression still painting your already heavily painted features. 

Despite the topic, Mr. Lee’s gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook, “hope she hasn’t been too much trouble. She used to be quite the spitfire growing up, but thankfully I fixed her right up before she could bring that attitude into adulthood. Can’t imagine how I would’ve gotten her married if I hadn’t.”

The room became quiet as Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in his place, your father’s words, which sounded so casual on his tongue, unable to settle comfortably within him. Jungkook wasn’t so naive as to believe that “fixed her up” alluded to gentle parenting and stern lectures. And if his guesses as to how your father might have disciplined you growing up were correct, then you had his sympathies. Jungkook’s childhood wasn’t exactly filled with rainbows and butterflies, the son of a mafia leader’s childhood never is, but everything his father had done was for the betterment of the Jeons, not so Jungkook could be a good slave to a spouse. 

“No,” he finally decided to answer, “she hasn’t been any trouble at all.”

If your father’s comment had bothered you, you didn’t show it. But Jungkook was still eager to change the subject. 

Before he could, however, he was surprised when he felt you straighten up beside him and beat him to it. 

“How is Hannah doing, father?”

Despite all his research, Jungkook had no clue who Hannah was. He’d never even heard of the name before, which he found surprising considering how well he made sure to research the Lees before his marriage. Nevertheless it was clear to him that whoever this Hannah was, she was important. You’d asked the question with your usual soft voice, a casual hint in your tone, but Jungkook had known you long enough at this point to see past your act. He could see the way your gaze had turned calculating, taking in each and every expression that flitted across your father’s face as he took a sip from his teacup before he finally allowed himself to take you in. 

“She's doing fine,” he answered after a moment, voice void of any emotion, “very fine actually.”

Jungkook didn’t miss the subtle jump in your eyebrows at his words, so subtle that he doubted your father would notice it even though he was finally acknowledging your presence. 

“But you should start worrying more about this place, Y/N. This is your home now after all.”

Your gaze immediately dropped at his words as you gave him a timid nod, ditzy Y/N clearly back in full swing. Most would have witnessed this interaction and seen a loving daughter being rejected by her cold, heartless father. But looking past your act of innocence, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel that there was more to this interaction than that. The relationship you had with your father was weird. If Jungkook hadn’t known either of you, he wouldn’t have guessed that you were more than mere acquaintances with how distant you both seemed. No love, no animosity, just… impassive.

And yet, despite this clearly uncommunicative relationship, you’d spoken up only once in this entire conversation to ask about a person named Hannah - or rather you had wanted confirmation about something regarding Hannah, and judging from the way your expression had returned to that naively bored look, you had gotten the confirmation you were seeking. Neither of you had offered to identify who Hannah was to Jungkook either, so he doubted asking would prove to be very useful. 

If only Jungkook had the mind to figure everything out on his own at this moment. He’d already had to stifle three yawns since the beginning of the conversation, all of which he was able to hide only because your father had initially seemed very interested in scanning the contents of the guest house. Hopefully he’d get better at hiding his exhaustion as the day progressed, he had a long day ahead of him after all. 

Your father caught Jungkook’s attention once again when he leaned forward to place his empty teacup on the mahogany coffee table in front of him. The teacup clinked against the wood before he leaned back into the settee, giving Jungkook a questioning look. 

“So, now that we’ve got the chit chat out of the way, why’d you need to see me so desperately?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Jungkook ignored the arrogant structuring of his words once again, gaze instead drifting to you, who was keenly scanning the front page of a newspaper that had been haphazardly placed on the coffee table to give the room a more homey feel. 

He wasn’t entirely sure whether you knew anything about Jimin’s attack on the West Docks. Yes, you had broken into his office once, but Jungkook didn’t leave important stuff like that just lying around so technically you didn’t have any way of knowing about it. Jungkook preferred if you didn’t, because obviously the less you knew the better. You were trying to kill him after all, and as much as he liked to make a joke out of it, he wasn’t dumb enough not to at least partially take it seriously. 

So Jungkook shifted in his seat to face you, the action catching your previously wandering attention, before he placed a hand on your knee. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hesitant, but thankfully you didn’t flinch at the contact. 

“Why don’t you go freshen up, princess? Your father and I have some business to discuss, and then after that you and I have somewhere to be.”

Jungkook watched your eyebrows twitch, though whether it was from the nickname or in question of where the two of you would be heading he didn’t know. But then your gaze flickered to your father’s direction for a moment before you quietly nodded. 

You stood from the settee, ignoring the way Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your knee, brushed against your skin as it fell. When you faced your father, hands clutched before you, he was already looking up at you with a familiarly indifferent expression. 

“It was nice seeing you again, father,” you said formally, keeping your voice light and soft as you offered him a small bow. You were returned a formal nod, another familiar action, before you turned away from the two men and pushed through the double doors of the guest house. 

A deep sigh escaped your lips the moment you heard the door shut behind you, feeling as though someone had lifted an anvil off your chest. Your father’s presence had always felt suffocating, you were just glad that the two of you being in the same room has also always been a rare occurrence in itself. 

You didn’t have time to dwell on that fact as the beauty of Jungkook’s estate now stood before you in all its glory. Lush green grass surrounding a stone walkway, colourful flowers popping out of strategically placed beds, and large, but maintained, Japanese Maple trees scattered here and there were all organised neatly to form a breathtaking courtyard. 

This was the one thing you could unconditionally appreciate about Jungkook’s estate. Most leaders’ estates screamed money with the various marble statues of themselves and their families littering their front yards and excessive landscaping drenching the flowers and grass in stone and metal. But Jungkook’s was filled with greenery, as if you were walking through an enormous garden. You loved it. 

While surveying the area your gaze dropped to the stone pathway before you, the one you and Jungkook had walked through to get to the guest house and also the one you were certain Jungkook was expecting you to take after being kicked out of said guest house. You stared at it for no more than three seconds, not even bothering to think it over, before you spun around in your spot and pressed your ear to the door you had just emerged from. 

There was something wrong. 

Although alliances were a very uncommon thing in the South, you were still smart enough to know that business deals between allies should be eased into slowly, not started four days after a marriage. This meeting was happening way too soon, which made you doubt it was business-related at all. 

Jungkook needed something from the Lees. The only question was what?

After leaning quietly against the door for a few minutes, you were only able to pick up a few words here and there between quick stifled yawns. It would’ve disappointed you if it wasn’t for the one name you managed to catch Jungkook say as clear day.

Park Jimin.

The leader of the Parks. The man whose close friend consisted of the ruthless Min Yoongi, leader of the Mins. Both mafias were located north of Taehyung and Jungkook’s territories. Personally, you’ve never heard of any ongoing disputes between the four, but if Jungkook was mentioning Park’s name in a meeting with your father, there had to be something going on. 

That would be perfect, because if you killed Jungkook while he was having a feud with Jimin, then Jungkook’s death would be more likely to be pinned on Jimin, allowing you to bear no consequences and be sent back to the Lees without a scratch. 

Except… it wasn’t perfect, because killing Jungkook had proven to be a lot harder than you had anticipated.

Killing your first husband had been child’s play. Even after you’d grabbed the gun from his waistband and shot him twice in the chest, his men had taken one look at the scene and ruled you out before you had even had the chance to construct a detailed tale of an assassin that had come through the window and shot him dead. They had been complete idiots, entirely unable to see the doe-eyed girl with frilly pink dresses and a soft airy voice as anything more than that. 

But this case was an entirely different challenge. You’d realised on the very night of your wedding that the people around Jungkook, as well as Jungkook himself of course, were not as stupid. You knew that if you tried to pull the same stunt again, you’d be pinned for the murder eventually. It’s why you hadn't even bothered to search for some kind of weapon in Jungkook’s mansion, nor had you tried to steal the gun you knew stayed sat on Jungkook’s waistband at every moment of the day. If you used a weapon to kill Jungkook, you’d be caught. 

That’s why you had stuck to poisons as your main choice of weapon. The collection of toxins you had managed to smuggle into the mansion, all thanks to Persilla of course, was made to make kills look like nature’s fate. Yet, despite dropping toxins into anything that could possibly make contact with Jungkook’s mouth or skin for the past four days, your efforts were proving to be futile. Jungkook’s knack for catching onto small details was just a difficult barrier to overcome. 

You knew H hadn’t sent you that note to pressure you into speeding up Jungkook’s murder, and you hadn’t taken it in that way at first, but now that four days had passed you were beginning to think about changing your methods. It would be more complicated, but you needed to get this done quickly. 

A gun would be the best way to finish him off in your opinion; it was the one weapon you were a master of and getting a hold of one shouldn’t be too difficult with all the guards milling around the estate. Then all you’d need to do was get Jungkook alone, shoot him dead, and then plant some evidence that pointed towards the Parks. You’d need to be careful, but it was doable a-

“Now look what I’ve found.”

You snapped away from the door and whirled around, startled entirely as a male voice suddenly spoke up from behind you. You were met with the view of a man, one you’ve never seen before, standing a couple metres away from your form, his hair as light brown as his eyes. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, while the buttons of his white polo shirt were open to reveal a sliver of his neck. 

“I seem to have caught a nosy little mouse.”

You wanted to ask him who he was and what he was doing here. Anyone within the gates of Jungkook’s estate had to be close to him, you’d learned that much during your stay here. Yet, Jungkook had failed to mention this man at all. 

But before you could voice your questions, the man stepped forward, brown dress shoes tapping against the stone beneath you both, and held out a hand, “I’m Daehyun, Jungkook’s cousin. We haven’t formally been introduced.”

Tentatively, because you still had an act to uphold, you reached out to shake his hand, making sure to keep your grip weak, “I’m Y/N.”

Then you remembered that eavesdropping on a conversation between Jungkook and your dad may not seem like the most innocent thing to Daehyun. So you quickly mustered up a believable excuse. 

“I swear I wasn’t trying to listen to their conversation! I just…”

You paused, pretending to shy away from him to give the illusion that you were embarrassed to admit the blatant lie that was about to escape your lips.

“I just wanted to know if Jungkook would talk about me,” you said, keeping your gaze on the ground as you started fidgeting with your fingers, “he’s not the most talkative man with me, so I just wanted to see if he would admit anything to my father.”

“Mhmm,” Daehyun replied, and you couldn’t help but feel that the tone of his voice gave the impression that he wasn’t paying attention. Finding that strange, you lifted your gaze from the ground hesitantly and observed him. The sight made you grimace inwardly. 

Daehyun’s lack of interest could be explained by the fact that he was too busy raking his eyes across your body, taking in your bare legs and neck, almost as if he were entranced. You noticed his fingers twitch as he took in the frills of your pink dress and the silk bow holding up half your hair. 

“God, you don’t look a day over 19,” he commented, as if you weren’t even there and he was simply talking to himself, “how old are you, darling?”

This was far from the first time a guy had looked at you as though you were a piece of meat. In fact, your act seemed to garner a lot more attention from the male species than it should. You liked to think that all the years of this had made you immune to moments like these, but deep down you knew it still made your skin crawl.

That being said, the implications of Daehyun’s words were beginning to register in your mind. This was Jungkook’s cousin, his family. It was customary for all male members of mafia families to have a gun with them at all times, which meant that there was a very high probability that, if Daehyun were to turn around, you would catch sight of a shiny black gun wedged into his waistband. He didn’t seem like the intelligent type to you either, which meant this would be a better opportunity to steal a gun compared to snagging one from a constantly alert guard. 

All you needed to do was get him a little closer to you. 

“Twenty-three,” you finally answered, keeping your voice soft and innocent-sounding. You took the opportunity to take a timid step forward, one that seemed to go unnoticed by Daehyun.

Instead he nodded, as if in approval of your answer, “Jungkook really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t he… I expect you’ll age beautifully. Lucky bastard.”

You pushed down the urge to throw up in your mouth. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t think you had it in you to lead him on in order to steal the gun. He was just way too slimy, saying things that were way too gross. 

But turns out, you didn’t really need to say anything as Daehyun took another step towards you, leaving only a hand’s length between yourself and him. You automatically felt yourself tense. If it were up to you, you’d have grabbed his shirt and kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine. But you were ditzy Y/N at the moment, and ditzy Y/N couldn’t fight back. 

Instead you tried to focus on the gun. He was close enough that you could snake your arm behind him without him noticing, but he still needed to get a little closer for you to grab it. 

“Relax, darling,” Daehyun soothed, and to both your distaste and relief he placed a hand on your shoulder, closing the distance you needed. Your hand crept forward slowly, stopping at his waistband, “you don’t need to be so tense-”

“Daehyun.”

Crap.

Your empty hand shot back to your side as your gaze snapped to the source of the voice, Daehyun’s following suit less quickly. Jungkook was shutting the door of the guest house behind him, dark eyes fixed on the hand on your shoulder. His voice had been low, the threat in them evident. Yet, Daehyun smiled, instead taking his time in removing his hand from your shoulder and taking a step back. 

“Jungkook,” he nodded, his hands returning to his pockets, “your wife and I were just having a small chat.”

You searched the space behind Jungkook, finding no sign of your father. The guest house had two exits, one that led into Jungkook’s estate and another that led outside of it. Your father must have gone through the latter. 

Jungkook gained your attention once again when he took a few steps forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Daehyun, “you can talk without touching.”

Daehyun raised his hands in mock surrender as Jungkook paused in front of you, scanning you from head to toe for a second, before he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away from him, barely sparing him another glance as he started on the stone pathway you knew led to his mansion. There was this one patch of the pathway that you noticed hid the two of you from the attentive eyes of the guards. You took that opportunity to drop your act of innocence. 

“Cousin of yours?” You asked with an eyebrow raised. 

“Unfortunately.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched Jungkook spit out the word through gritted teeth, keeping his face forward. He was angry. He didn’t like Daehyun, you realised. Yet he seemed to have free access to his house? That didn’t make any sense.

You watched the patch eventually give way to a large circular driveway that laid before the front doors of Jungkook’s mansion. There was a sleek black car already parked on the grey concrete, obscured slightly by the fountain in the circle’s centre. It probably had something to do with what Jungkook was talking about earlier, about how there was somewhere the two of you would be going. 

With your innocent facade back up, because you noticed guards milling around this part of the estate, you turned to Jungkook with a curious look, “where are we going?”

He paused for a moment as his gaze dropped on you, and you immediately knew he was choosing his next words carefully, making sure to pick the ones that only allowed you to know as much as he wanted you to. 

“We’re going to meet some families,” he finally answered, but you’d already become distracted as you noticed a guard walk up to the window of the black car and begin speaking with the driver, the exposed gun at his hip suddenly looking very attractive to you especially after your failed attempt at snatching Daehyun’s. 

“And why is that?” You asked him absentmindedly, wondering if there was any way you could grab the weapon. You’d only need to brush past the guard for a moment to grab and shove it into the holster at your thigh. You knew the frills of your dress would do an amazing job at hiding its outline as well, even from eyes like Jungkook’s.

“There was an accident at the West Docks and a few workers died. We’re going to meet with the families and pay our respects.”

Your attention snapped back to Jungkook, the reminder to keep your expression light coming just a millisecond too late. It was a practically microscopic reaction, but it was enough for Jungkook to pick up on, making him tilt his head in question.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked without much thought, because you honestly didn’t have anything smarter to say. Why was a mafia leader paying respects to people who weren't part of the family?

You weren't an idiot; it was no coincidence that Jungkook mentioned an incident taking place at the docks around the same time he had a meeting with your father in which he was mentioning Park Jimin’s name. You’d pieced together that said “incident” was more likely some kind of attack, and the one responsible for said attack was probably Park Jimin. If Jimin had attacked Jungkook’s docks, then that meant he was testing how strong the Jeons were at the moment, which further meant that he was interested in taking over the territory. Obviously Jungkook would have wanted to ensure that he had your father’s support if things were to escalate. 

People would have died in the attack at the West Docks, that’s how it always worked. Hell, people died at the borders all the time in the South since there was so much animosity between the territories there. 

But that’s just how things worked, or at least that’s what you’d heard mafia leaders parrot to each other growing up. “They knew what they were signing up for.” “They’re doing it for the sake of the mafia.” It was the kind of thinking that you loathed, and that exact thinking that you hoped to dismantle bit by bit until everyone, not just you, could see the flaws behind it. 

Yet… here Jungkook was, saying he wanted to value those lives lost by paying respects to their mourning families…

It was unbelievable. 

However, before either of you could speak, the door of the parked car opened to reveal a man wearing a standard suit. He stepped out onto the concrete, only to turn around in his place and open the door to the backseat. He continued to stay like that, patiently waiting for the two of you. 

Jungkook was the first to move, walking around the car to open the door himself and disappear behind the sleek black metal, while you eventually followed behind him, giving the man a soft thank you before sinking into the backseat beside your husband. In a matter of seconds, the doors were shut and you felt the car begin to move beneath you. 

There was an unfamiliar silence as you peered through the tinted windows, watching as the car passed through the front gates before submerging into a thick forest. The four days you’ve been at Jungkook’s mansion had been full of constant bickering, that was until someone else would enter the room. Then suddenly you were clasping your hands in front of you and bowing with a soft smile, all while Jungkook hid his cocky grins. 

“What? No snappy comebacks today?” Jungkook spoke, probably feeling the uncharacteristic silence as well. Despite noticing that there was a divider between the driver and you both, meaning there was no reason for you to keep your act up, you didn’t answer. 

You didn’t know why his earlier words weren’t sitting well with you. Just because Jungkook dropped a few condolences here and there didn’t make him a good person. He was the leader of a mafia after all, and you’d met enough of them to know the kind of people they were: cruel, merciless, and lacking in respect for the ones outside their families. Even the level of care they had for their families was questionable. 

But still… this was throwing you off.

You turned around in your seat as a sudden thought came to mind, causing Jungkook’s gaze to shift from the window to your form. 

“What do you mean by paying respect?” You asked. Perhaps the phrase meant something different in the North. Perhaps instead of meeting the families and expressing empathy for their loss, he was going to lecture them on the need for martyrs and how the families owed the Jeons for letting them live in their territories. Yes, that made a lot more sense to you. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, was looking at you as if you’d gone insane. 

“I won’t even begin to answer that question,” he scoffed. But then he seemed to consider something for a moment, probably the fact that you would also be the one paying respects and not knowing what that was might be a hindrance to his perfect image, and spoke with an annoyed sigh, “we will be meeting with the families, relaying a few comforting words. Let them know that we will be supporting them from now on so they can focus solely on overcoming their grief rather than on how they’ll make ends meet moving forward.”

You turned back to your window with a frustrated breath, his answer doing nothing to dissipate your confusion. You might have also faced away from him to hide a stifled yawn. Car rides tended to make you sleepy, and in combination with the fact that you haven’t slept properly throughout your stay at the Jeon Mansion, it was taking a lot of willpower to keep your mind alert at the moment. 

“Considering that this will be our first official public appearance, I should also repeat how crucial it will be for you to act like a good wife.”

You rolled your eyes as a huff escaped your lips, “Yeah, I get it.”

“If you getting it means you’ll act better than the way you acted in front of your father, then good,” he commented, which made you turn to him once again with a brow raised. 

“What is that supposed to mean? I was fine in front of my father.”

Jungkook shrugged, “you could have been better.”

“How?”

He thought for a moment, mulling it over before he responded with an amused look, “when you were leaving the room, you stood up and just let my hand fall away to the side. Some would take that as a sign that you’re mad at me.”

“I am not going to kiss the ground you walk on just so that a few jobless people will keep their mouths shut,” you shot back. If you were having any qualms about killing him earlier they were entirely gone now. You were going to enjoy each and every moment of gutting the man at your side, not even the slightest hint of guilt.

“Not to mention how quiet you were,” he continued, but this time you could feel the weight of his gaze deepen, “you do know that we’ll have to actually speak to the families, right?”

There was a silent curiosity in his eyes that he didn’t voice, but you knew it was there, though for what exactly it was for you didn’t know. Was he questioning why you were so quiet? If that were the case, you didn’t have an answer; you hadn’t even realised you’d been so quiet during the meeting. Or was he curious about Hannah? You doubted it. With all the research he had done on the Lees and your territory, you guessed he already knew who she was. 

“Relax, Jungkook,” you waved him off, “I’ve been acting as someone else for years. You’ll get your nice and loving wife.”

With that settled you turned back to the window, stifling another yawn with your hand. 

-

-

-

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the fact that you were actually waking up, meaning that at some point during the ride you had fallen asleep. The second thing you noticed as you were waking up was that whatever thing you were leaning on did not feel like the inner side of a car door. That second realisation had you sitting up in your seat instantly, eyes shooting open to understand the situation. 

Outside you could see that there were no longer thick-trunked trees surrounding the road in which you drove on, instead replaced by groups of houses and small apartment buildings. You watched as kids playing in the roughened streets stopped to stare at the sleek black car, their parents no different as they tried to see through the tinted windows with unfiltered curiosity. 

You turned away from the window to take in Jungkook, whose shoulder you realised you’d made your pillow while you’d fallen asleep, only to have your eyes widen. 

To your surprise, Jungkook had fallen asleep as well, with his head resting back against the headrest and lips just slightly parted. Small puffs of breath rhythmically escaped from between them when he exhaled, a telltale sign that he truly was asleep and not just resting his eyes or something. 

The image had you frozen for a moment. He looked so… peaceful. Not that he always looked stressed out. Despite having a killer for a wife, Jungkook seemed to be pretty relaxed most of the time, amused even. But this was a different kind of peace, one that came with a complete lack of thoughts, making him look almost innocent - not the hard leader that you knew him to be. 

Without his gaze on yours preventing it, you also noticed things that you’d never really noticed about him before. Like the length of his eyelashes, or the strong dip of his jawline. His lips had a red undertone and rounded into a slight pout, while his skin was flawless - not a very common characteristic amongst leaders, though not many were as young as Jungkook - aside from the end of a faded scar peeking from behind the collar of his black shirt. The side of his hair that was facing you was slightly ruffled, as if his head had been leaning against something before it had moved to lean against the seat behind him. 

God this man was fine. 

You forced your gaze forward, realising that you were staring. Were you really so deprived that you were finding the man that you were supposed to kill hot? Well, in your defence, you had eyes. Also in your defence, the leaders in the South were all old and slimy dudes that should have been put down years ago. Just looking at Jungkook was like a breath of fresh air after drowning.

But then you paused, realising the weight of the situation. Jungkook was asleep, the same Jungkook who you knew had a gun wedged into his waistband at this very moment. It was risky, he’d definitely notice it missing when he woke up considering his attention to detail, but if you were to grab the gun, and then immediately get out of the car, he’d have no choice but to let you hold onto it until the two of you were out of the public’s eye. It would be more than enough time to secretly kill him and then plant evidence incriminating Jimin. 

Judging from the houses outside, you deemed that you both were close enough to the destination that you could hop out of the car immediately after it stopped. So you turned around, making sure to keep your movements as slow as possible, before you snaked an arm around his torso. You could feel the soft inside of his black blazer as your hand slipped beneath it, fingers just barely ghosting over his equally black dress shirt. It was unlucky that his gun was on the side of his waist facing away from you, but thankfully after checking to make sure he was still asleep, which he was, your fingers wrapped around the metal handle. 

Or at least you thought he had been asleep, because as you pulled the gun from its confines, a hand suddenly engulfing yours made you flinch. 

Your gaze snapped up to him, surprised when you found him wide awake and staring back at you. In all honesty, it wasn’t the fact that you were caught that had you frozen like a deer in headlights, Jungkook was well aware of your intentions, but rather the position that you were in. You’d used your left hand to grab his gun, which left your entire front to be pressed against his chest, while your right hand was resting on his other side, practically caging him against the seat of the car. Barely a breath’s distance separated your face with his, making the intensity of his stare all the more intimidating. 

You tried to pull away from him, but his hand brushed higher to wrap around your wrist and keep you in place, dark brown eyes still boring into yours.

“Put it back.”

It shouldn’t have, but the deepness of his voice sent a tiny shiver down your spine, one that you did everything in your power to make sure Jungkook couldn’t notice. You’d rather be caught dead than having Jungkook think you were into him in any way whatsoever. 

A small part of you, the same one that had persuaded you to drop a good amount of garlic into his cologne just yesterday, also reasoned that you’d never be caught dead taking orders from him as well. Logically speaking, there was no way you could save this attempt at taking his gun, he’d caught you and that was that. And yet, despite that, you didn’t move, hand still clutching the gun which was now hovering over his waistband. 

You felt Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around the soft skin of your wrist, the lack of your movement not going unnoticed by him. 

“Put it back, Y/N.”

It only made you want to do the opposite, just to piss him off a bit more, but you knew you were only delaying the inevitable. So, with the tiny devil at your shoulder retreating back to wherever it had come from and with a frustrated breath escaping your lips, you slowly pushed the gun back into his waistband. The action was slow, still dragging it out for as long as possible, until you felt the trigger guard push against the edge of the cloth. Yet, even when you let the handle drop from your grasp, Jungkook’s hand didn’t drop from your wrist. Instead, the edges of his lips twitched upwards.

“So we’ve moved on from poisons now?” He asked instead, voice low as his satisfied gaze stayed fixed on yours, “is my whiskey finally free from your terror?”

Your reply was quick, though your voice was just as low and breathy as his, “I wouldn’t start trusting it just yet.”

You really meant that, considering the new bottles of whiskey Jungkook had ordered had already been spiked not even an hour after they’d been placed in his cabinet. You knew that he knew, making the action pointless, but you were weak in front of that little devil at your shoulder. 

The abrupt sound of the car’s door opening made you jerk back into your seat, ripping your empty hand from Jungkook’s, as you quickly fixed the ruffles in your dress. By the time the driver’s face appeared at the doorway, you were offering him an innocent smile, making sure to keep your eyes bright and lips stuck in a perpetually delighted turn. An amused breath escaped Jungkook as he turned to open his own door. You hadn’t even realised that the car had come to a stop. 

You accepted the driver’s hand as he extended it towards you, the short heel of your white shoes tapping against the grey concrete while you stepped out of the car, grateful suddenly for the fresh air. 

You didn’t know what exactly you were expecting when Jungkook had said that you were going to meet with families. Mostly you had pictured a stage, one that he would stand and speak on, and then a crowd of families standing before it paying close attention to his every word. But there was no such stage in sight, in fact, as you looked around the area you noticed that there was nothing out of the ordinary; just a simple neighbourhood with kids playing in the cracked street and parents standing in their worn front porches. Everyone was staring though, curious eyes staying fixed on Jungkook, and then on you. 

It was a bit daunting if you were being entirely honest with yourself. Yes, you were the daughter of a mafia leader, but you’d never actually been made to make public appearances like this, much less speak at them. Daughters of leaders were more like decoration pieces, hidden away until they were married off. 

Jungkook rounded the car until he was standing at your side, an arm wrapping snuggly around your waist. The action had been hesitant, as if he expected you to push him away or flinch at the touch, but you were beyond trying to fight whatever image of perfection Jungkook was trying to sell; there were bigger issues you needed to worry about now. And maybe a tiny part of you found comfort in it as you noticed all the eyes that were on you now. It was your first public appearance in the Jeon Territory after all, everyone would be curious about the Jeon Jungkook’s new wife. You needed to appear shy for the sake of your act, but you were still able to notice the mixed reactions, some confused, some sceptical, but most were just surprised. 

Jungkook also seemed to be scanning the crowd before he turned towards you, whispering the words in your ear, “let’s get going.”

You didn’t have time to notice the fuss that action had caused in a group of girls before you both began following a guard into a house on your right. He guided you through the doorway, the door already wide open, as you made your way towards what seemed like a living room. The space had a homey vibe, pictures of the family scattered across the walls and lit candles placed on the tables, but it was clear that whoever lived here was struggling: the paint was peeling off the walls, the wooden floor was littered with scuffs and dents, and the furniture looked a day away from crumbling. It pained your heart to see the kitchen barren. 

It was only when you and Jungkook managed to squeeze into the small living room that you finally noticed signs of life. There was an old woman sitting on the only sofa in the room, her expression dejected while her form was hunched forward in a way that you knew was a result of grief and not old age. At the sound of your footsteps her head raised, taking in the two of you with pained eyes. 

You had to mask your surprise when you watched Jungkook lower himself onto a knee before her, “hello Mrs. Hwang.”

The woman, Mrs. Hwang, ignored the greeting, instead shaking her head while keeping her gaze on the hands resting in her lap, “I don’t understand. They keep telling me he’s gone, but I just don’t understand… How could he be gone? How could my beautiful son be gone? What happened to him?”

“Mrs. Hwang,” Jungkook said slowly, his brows pulling together in sympathy, “your son and a few other workers were killed in a construction accident at the West Docks. I’m sorry.”

The tears that had been swimming in her eyes finally began to stream down her cheeks, the news coming from the leader of the Jeons finally confirming what she had seemingly been denying for a while, but you could only try to fan the flames of the anger that ignited in your chest. There was no construction accident, there had been an attack orchestrated by Jimin, and normal people who had nothing to do with the territorial feud had suffered the consequences. This poor woman, for example, had lost her son. She deserved to know the real reason he was gone, deserved to belt out her anger at the actual people responsible, not be fed a cover-up story you knew was only being promoted in order to prevent public unrest.

You watched as Jungkook tried to reassure her, his words artfully compassionate and reassuring, wondering just how much of those words he actually meant. He probably didn’t mean many of them, if any at all. Perhaps this was the method in which he maintained his power? Leaders in the South usually asserted their power by ensuring the public feared them, scaring them so much that even the thought of betrayal had them shaking in fear. But Jungkook was a smart man. Perhaps he realised that being loved by the public was a better method of manipulation, one that produced more loyalty. 

You’d been so deep in thought that when you felt the tap of Jungkook’s black dress shoe on your white ones you almost flinched. He was looking up at you with a pointed look, and it was then that you realised that the woman was staring at you as well, as if she were waiting for you to speak. Jungkook’s words, genuine or not, seemed to have stopped the tears that had been flowing down her cheeks while you’d been distracted because there was almost nothing left of them except the water staining her cheeks. 

Sensing your confusion, Jungkook gave Mrs. Hwang a strained smile, “you must excuse her, she’s still getting used to the North. It can be overwhelming at times.”

Mrs. Hwang nodded in understanding before she turned to face you once again. 

“That’s okay dear. I was just wondering how married life has been treating you. My husband passed away so long ago yet I still find myself missing the companionship even now.”

Oh… 

That was not the kind of question you hesitate at if you want people to get a good impression of your and Jungkook’s relationship, and the look on Jungkook’s face at the moment only confirmed those thoughts. 

“It’s been treating me well,” you answered finally, hesitating on what the right thing to say would be in this situation, “he’s been very good to me.”

It was the wrong thing to say, you realised that at the exact moment Jungkook grimaced and tears started to stream down Mrs. Hwang’s face once again. She nodded in your direction, “my husband treated me well too. How I miss him… And now my son is gone as well, who do I have left?”

Your voice died in your throat, mind unable to come up with anything that could possibly comfort the bawling woman who had lost so much. All you could do was stand dumbly and watch her crumble before you, wishing you could crawl into a hole and stay there forever hidden. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, immediately placed a hand on her knee and began to reassure her once again, comforting words falling from his lips like a gentle stream. He reminded her of how her son and husband were in a better place now, of the friends she still has in the neighbourhood, and then of her granddaughter who needed her to be strong. 

At the mention of her granddaughter, the door of the living room suddenly smacked open, revealing a little girl skipping into the room. She was wearing a sparkly pink shirt and washed out jeans which were fraying at the edges, while a worn doll hung from her fingers. Despite this, there was a bright smile on her face as she walked deeper into the room. 

The sight of Jungkook slowed her down in her tracks, replacing the once innocent smile with a deep blush painting her cheeks. Her gaze shifted away from him, clearly shy from her sudden crush. But then she caught sight of her grandmother and her gaze became worried. She made her way to her side quickly before gently placing the doll on her grandmother’s lap, also placing a comforting hand on her arm.

“Don’t cry grandma,” she said with a frown, using her other hand to push a few strands of her grandmother’s hair behind her ear. The girl turned in Jungkook’s direction, though the blush was back and her eyes wouldn’t meet his, “I keep telling her not to be sad, but she keeps crying.”

It was then when she caught sight of someone else in the room, making her turn to face in your direction. Her reaction was immediate, eyes lighting up in excitement as she took in your dress, then your shoes, and then your makeup. The girl quickly jumped from the side of the sofa and skipped over to you, eyes wide in childlike amazement. 

“Your dress!” She squealed, continuing to skip in a circle around you as she scanned you from top to bottom, “it’s so pretty! I’m going to ask Daddy to get me one just like it when he comes back!”

The last sentence felt like a hammer to your chest, and you could see Jungkook’s expression also sadden from behind her. How long would it take this little girl to realise that her father would not be coming back? That his life had been taken from him only because of the cruel way in which this world was structured?

Before you could think much of it, you slowly lowered yourself to the ground, knees touching the cold wood as you became eye to eye with the excited girl before you. It gave her the opportunity to marvel at your hair and the light sparkles on your eyelids, her small hand brushing against the frills of your dress softly as her excitement only heightened. 

“You look just like a princess!” She continued. But then a thought seemed to strike her, suddenly making her shy, “do you think I could grow up to be a princess like you one day?”

You smiled at her, using every bit of your self control not to cry for this little girl and her innocence, “I think you’ll grow up to be an even prettier princess one day.”

Her smile brightened again, her confidence restored in that quick way only a child’s confidence could. You wanted that confidence to stick though, knowing just how quickly the cruelty of this world could destroy it . 

“But do you want me to tell you a little secret?” You asked, to which she nodded hastily, also desperate in that way only children were. 

“You don’t need pink dresses and sparkles to be a princess.” You gently took hold of her hand, giving her tiny fingers a comforting squeeze. This new information seemed to shock her, her eyes widening as a surprised gasp escaped her lips, “what matters is your heart. Your grandmother lost someone very dear to her, and she’ll need someone to help her get through her sadness.”

The girl straightened up immediately, chin rising as if to meet the challenge head on, “don’t worry, Daddy always makes me in charge of helping grandma. I’ll always take care of her.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” you praised.

“I am! I’m very-” She struggled with the words for a moment until she finally seemed to manage the beast, “responsible!”

An amused breath escaped your lips at her childish confidence, despite the sorrow tugging at your heartstrings. 

“And when you realise what you’ve lost,” you continued, this time speaking to the girl she will become when the devastating news finally hits her, “your grandma will be there to get you through it as well. You won’t be alone, okay?”

She nodded innocently, the weight of your words flying over her head. But that was okay, she’d realise their meaning when the time came. You could only hope that they would provide at least some comfort when it really mattered. 

Without another thought, you reached behind your head to unravel the silky pink ribbon in your hair, making sure to smooth it out before you held it out to her. She squealed in delight, grabbing the ribbon and softly running a hand over the silk material. 

But then she suddenly looked up from it and threw her arms around your neck, the spontaneity of the action causing you to flinch. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She continued to squeal, “I think you’re the best princess in the world!”

With her chin laying on your shoulder, your gaze automatically met Jungkook’s as your hands hesitantly raised to rest on her back. He was still kneeling in front of Mrs. Hwang, but his hand had dropped from her knee to his own, realising that it was unneeded as a fond smile was overtaking her expression at the sight of her happy granddaughter. Jungkook’s expression was unreadable as he watched the girl jump excitedly in your embrace. 

The two of you only stayed a few minutes longer, only because the girl had insisted that you tie the ribbon in her hair, before Jungkook stood and cleared his throat, a clear sign that you both should get going. You hadn’t even realised how heavy the atmosphere had been in the house until you were walking through the doorway, finally able to take in a full breath of fresh air. A guard was already standing before the front door, turning around to lead you both to the next house when he noticed your presence. 

“Well… that was interesting,” Jungkook commented, his face turning in your direction to meet your gaze. 

You were quiet as you followed behind him, making sure to pull your act back up in the process. You hadn’t realised that it had sort of dropped when you began speaking to the girl, the heat of the moment enough to make you forget. 

You didn’t turn to meet his gaze, instead scanning the area and people that surrounded you both as you spoke, “I’m not very good at it.”

His head tilted in question. 

In hindsight, you should have told him earlier, but perhaps you were a tiny bit embarrassed of it. Now, though, the cat was out of the bag, so there was no point in trying to hide it from him now.

“The wife thing? The hugging and laughing and kissing? I can do that,” you finally admitted, “but comforting? I’m not the best at it.”

That was an understatement, but you were sure Jungkook probably knew that by now. His gaze felt heavy as he watched you for a moment, studying your expression. Then he turned away, keeping his eyes fixed before him as he spoke words you were not expecting in the slightest.

“You did alright.”

-

-

-

It was early in the evening when you and Jungkook finally visited the last house, the sun just barely visible above the horizon when you had crossed over the street to follow behind the guard for the last time today. You had visited at least 20 houses, all of which weighed your heart down more and more until you had felt like you were dragging it against the concrete beneath you. Some had lost their son, their brother, their husband, all of whom were important not only because they were loved, but also because they had been the sole provider of the family. You committed each grief-filled face to memory, promising that pain like that would be a thing of the past. 

It only made you more determined to accomplish your goal. 

Now you stood behind Jungkook as he spoke to a woman in her kitchen, listening attentively to her describe the kind man that was her late husband with a bittersweet fondness. His expression was sympathetic as she spoke, nodding every so often with a gentle smile, while the woman thanked him again and again for being here and helping them. 

If your observations proved anything, people certainly respected him around here. Whenever he would pass by in the street or when he spoke with the families, you watched many bow in his presence or express their gratitude for him. But no one ever invaded his space, and they definitely didn’t try to speak to him unless spoken to. It was all in all a respectful appreciation for the man they thought was a good leader. It was such an odd sight to you, being so used to people in the South trembling in fear in the presence of a leader, that it seemed almost foreign. 

Your gaze travelled around the room as you continued to stand with your hands clasped in front of yourself, casually surveying the small area while simultaneously making sure to absently follow the conversation in case you were spoken to. After your visit to the first house, you’d decided that it was best if you stayed as quiet as possible seeing as you were a trainwreck when it came to comforting people. Sure, you’d sort of saved yourself when you had spoken to the little girl, but you had clearly said the wrong things when you’d spoken to Mrs. Hwang. It was an embarrassing shortcoming on your part, but you also couldn’t really blame yourself. It’s not like you had any examples from when you were growing up to draw on. 

You were pulled from your thoughts, however, when you noticed a quick shadow flit in your peripheral vision, making you discreetly turn your head in that direction. For a moment, the doorway in which your gaze had settled on was empty aside from a guard who stood still in front of it, to the point that you thought you had imagined it. But then a fluffy black tail slithered from behind the wall, making you freeze in place. The tail brushed against the wooden floor before its owner turned around, the familiar face and collar moving into view. 

Persilla’s feline eyes stayed fixed on you as she sat herself down for a moment, tilting her head as she watched you meet her gaze in surprise. She was going completely unnoticed by everyone else in the room, though that part didn’t surprise you. That cat was a master of camouflage after all. She was only seen when she wanted to be. 

Which was why her presence had you wondering what she was doing here. 

The answer to that question came when she suddenly stood, walking dangerously close to the guard as she crossed him and made her way into the hallway slowly. She easily blended into the shadows as she paused and turned back for a moment, making sure that you were still watching her, before she finally slipped into one of the rooms which had a door that was slightly ajar. 

The message was clear to you: she wanted you to follow her. 

You glanced at Jungkook and the woman, who were still deep in conversation thankfully, before you silently shuffled to the doorway where the guard was standing idly. 

“Excuse me?” You spoke, voice soft as a feather. The man’s firm gaze shifted to you, “is there a bathroom anywhere that I could use?”

You could feel Jungkook sneak a glance in your direction, but the woman was still speaking with him, keeping him occupied. You’d made sure to keep your voice loud enough so that he could hear the bathroom excuse though, not wanting him to suspect anything. 

The guard nodded and began to guide you down the same hall Persilla had walked through. Then, to your relief, he stopped in front of the door she had disappeared behind, unknowingly making your life much easier. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at him before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind you. You immediately began to survey the small space, taking in the toilet and small sink, but your brows furrowed when you failed to find your favourite black cat. 

You kneeled before the sink to open the cabinet underneath it, frowning when it also was empty. 

“Persilla?” You whispered, so silently you could barely hear yourself. 

That was when you took notice of the window beside the sink. It was high up and blurred, but what really made you pause was the fact that it was open. Perhaps Persilla had jumped out of it before you’d entered the room? If she was expecting you to follow her, though, she clearly underestimated your size…

You flinched backwards when she suddenly dropped from said window, paws soundlessly making contact with the tiles before she circled your form. When she was satisfied she sat in front of you, showing you her neck. Once again, wedged between her fur and collar, was a small folded piece of paper. 

“He better not make a messenger out of you,” you practically mouthed with a grumble before you reached out and slipped the note from her collar, unfolding it curiously. The handwriting was familiar as your eyes scanned through the words, though there was only one person the note could be from anyway. 

I heard he has a knack for detail, so I’m assuming that’s why it’s not done yet. No problem. But we really should meet soon, there’s something I need to tell you. (I would’ve let myself in now, but your husband is waiting right outside the door so I had to make good use of Persilla) 

~ H

P.S. I left you a little gift in the toilet tank. I think you might like it. 

Your brows furrowed at the last part, gaze immediately shifting to the toilet in the corner of the room. It was a standard two piece, one with a removable back cover that made it easier to access the tank. 

You pushed yourself off the tiled floor and made your way towards it before grabbing the heavy cover and hauling it upwards with a strained huff, eyes immediately scanning the inside. There were shiny metal pipes intersecting with each other and valves protruding in some places, but it was a black handle wedged between the mess that caught your eye. You grabbed it and pulled it out of the tank, easing the cover back into place with a smile. 

Finally…

Delight was all you could feel as you rotated the shiny new handgun in your hand, taking in its familiar shape. You pressed against the release button first, catching the magazine expertly in your other hand as it popped out of the handle and checked its contents. It was full of ammunition, allowing you to push it back into the gun in satisfaction. Then your attention shifted to the silencer that had been screwed into the gun’s barrel. It wouldn’t entirely silence a shot, but it was still better than nothing and it could definitely come in handy. He knew you well, didn’t he…

You unscrewed the silencer from the gun and then shoved both into the holster at your thigh, making sure to smooth over your dress quickly. One look in the mirror had you satisfied, even eyes like Jungkook’s wouldn’t be able to tell there was a gun concealed under here. He would have no clue what was coming. 

You crouched down to scratch Persilla’s chin, promising her some good salmon for being such a good girl, before she jumped out the window and scurried off. Unable to contain your own curiosity you walked over to the window and gave it a quick glance, but there was no one in sight. 

Just as you had been told, Jungkook was standing right outside the door when you opened it after flushing the toilet and washing your hands to give the illusion that you’d really used the bathroom. You weren’t surprised when you watched his eyes dart behind you to carefully scan the bathroom, but you knew there was nothing to see. Everything that mattered was now strapped to your thigh discreetly hidden underneath your dress. 

“Checking the bathroom after a lady uses it is a bit much, don’t you think?” You couldn’t help but comment, keeping your expression innocent as you noticed the guard standing patiently at the end of the hallway. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in your direction, but there was an amused turn to his lips. You maintained your expression as you felt his arm wrap around yours and pull you closer, whispering the words into your ear as he began to guide you out of the house, “and trying to kill your husband isn’t?”

“A woman can’t have hobbies?”

He steered you along the street, passing by crowds of people who stood at a distance around the neighbourhood, as you both made your way back to the car. Because of that you had to keep a smile on your face as you spoke, despite the nature of your words. 

Jungkook raised an eyebrow to pair with his smile, aware of the crowd’s eyes on you both. There was no doubt that, through their eyes, you both looked like a nice couple speaking about nice things, far from the truth of course, “there are many husbands that wouldn’t be so understanding about your particular hobby. I think I deserve some credit.”

“Dead men don’t get credit.”

“Good thing I’m not dead yet, princess.”

You wished you could shoot him a nasty glare to wipe the cocky grin off his face, but you could only watch him innocently as he opened the door of the black car and waited for you to get in, an arm resting on the top of the car’s door nonchalantly. Taking the opportunity, you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving the impression that you were thanking him for the gesture, but instead said, “I wouldn’t count on that for long.”

Jungkook shut the door behind you in amusement after you sat in the car, ready to join you in the backseat until he felt his phone vibrate suddenly against his thigh. He stayed standing on your side of the car, resting a hand over its top as his other hand went to grab the phone out of his pocket and bring it to his ear. 

“What have you got for me?” He asked, casually surveying the area as he waited for a response. His brows furrowed when he heard the person on the other end of the line hesitate before he spoke. 

“Hello sir,” he finally said, to which Jungkook huffed, knowing whatever was about to be said wasn’t going to please him.

“Out with it, I don’t have all day.”

The man on the other end of the line sighed, “I was just contacted by the informant who has been working on what you ordered him to do…”

Jungkook frowned, remembering how he’d asked the informant to investigate your room and the man you’d been having hushed phone calls with before your marriage. He had wondered why it was taking the informant so long to get back to him, but Jungkook trusted the informant with his life, that’s why he had placed him in the Lee mansion in the first place. If things were being delayed, there was a reason. 

One that was about to be explained to him right now. 

“The informant just told me that he wasn’t able to identify the man.”

Jungkook’s grip on his phone tightened at the news, brows furrowing even further, “what?”

“He said he searched through Mrs. Y/N’s room from top to bottom, but was unable to find anything out of the ordinary, nor anything related to the mystery man. Then he traced her prior phone calls, but none led to anywhere significant. The only thing the informant was able to figure out was that the man goes by the letter H.”

Jungkook mulled over the information for a moment, tapping his finger against the hood of the car while deep in thought. H… that was practically nothing to go by. Why were you talking to a man that seemed so untraceable? What did he have to hide? What did you have to hide?

Jungkook’s jaw ticked. 

“What do you mean tracing the phone calls led to nowhere significant?”

“He explained that the locations were all scattered. Some were in the South, some were in the North, some were in the western and eastern regions, and a couple were even outside the country altogether,” he explained, then seemed to hesitate on his next words, “the informant mentioned that there were a couple locations that may seem slightly promising, but he admitted that he doubts they would prove to be very useful.”

“Tell him to send you the locations, and then send some men to check them out,” Jungkook said immediately.

His gaze dropped on you, who was already staring back at him from your seat. 

“That man is not a ghost. We’ll find him, whether he likes it or not.”

-

-

-

Unlike earlier, you nor Jungkook slept as the car raced through the highway, nothing but the darkness of night visible from outside of the window aside from the occasional streetlamp. You’d already been on the road for about an hour or two, the entirety of the trip drenched in silence. 

Jungkook clearly had something on his mind, you could tell from the way his eyes were clouded over in thought as they stayed glued to the window. You hadn’t been able to hear what he’d talked about on the phone, so you’d settled for deciphering his expressions. He’d seemed frustrated by something he’d been told, that was as much as you could make out. 

The weight of the gun on your thigh felt heavy, the need to grab it and use it itching against your fingers. Technically speaking, you had an opportunity right at this very moment. You could shoot Jungkook dead, bang on the divider to get the driver to stop the car, and then shoot him dead too before he put two and two together. It would be simple, and you’d also be able to run to the nearest sign of life and dramatically explain how a man associated with Park Jimin had hijacked the car and killed Jungkook and the driver, leaving you alive to relay the message. They’d buy that in a second. It would be perfect.

The only thing holding you back was the fact that you would have to kill the driver. Jungkook was a mafia leader, and mafia leaders were cruel and merciless. He deserved what was coming. But this driver… he was just a guy doing his job. He might even have a family waiting for him at home, and after the day you’d had, the thought of another family losing someone dear to them made you squirm in your seat.

Realistically, you knew your goal couldn’t be complete without the deaths of a few innocents. But even that thought wasn’t enough to get your fingers to grab the gun at your thigh. A frustrated breath escaped your lips at the lack of your action, one that of course, didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. 

“Someone seems frustrated,” he commented, the first time either of you have spoken after entering the car. You rolled your eyes, refusing to face him. But Jungkook continued to observe you intensely, giving you the impression that he wasn’t ready to let the conversation end so easily this time. 

“You know, you seem so adamant on killing me,” he said slowly, “if I’m going to have my wife perpetually working on my death, I think I at least deserve to know why she’s so passionate for the cause.”

It didn’t go over your head that he was suddenly so interested in your intentions after that ominous phone call, and you had no problem calling him out on it, “I heard you had an interesting phone call earlier. Maybe you should focus on that instead.”

“I am. I’m trying to find a pesky man that goes by the letter H, you wouldn’t happen to know him would you?”

You froze, surprise freezing your limbs as you wondered where Jungkook had gotten that name from. Had you messed up somewhere? You’d burned the first note you received and flushed the second down the toilet, so there was no way he could have gotten hold of them. Besides that, you’d never uttered his name out loud since marrying Jungkook. No, there was no way he could have found out from you. 

Jungkook smiled, as if reading your thoughts, “it seems you do.”

You shrugged, trying to collect yourself, “H knows everyone and no one.”

“But you know him better than others. Tell me, is he the reason you want me dead?”

You turned to meet his gaze, the taunt in your voice evident, “maybe you should find him and ask him yourself.”

“I will. He won’t be able to hide from me forever.”

You chuckled, answer instant, “doubtful.”

That made Jungkook tilt his head at you, an evident question. 

“He’s only found when he wants to be found. Otherwise, he’ll have you running in circles like a clueless pet.”

For some reason your words seemed to irritate Jungkook as you noticed his gaze narrow.

“You seem pretty fond of him.”

You didn’t answer, your gaze instead drifting back to the window. Up until now you’d been driving through a thick forest, the concrete road surrounded by enormous trees that seemed to extend into the sky. But the window on Jungkook’s side showcased the trees starting to dwindle, empty patches emerging in the thicket occasionally until they finally gave way to a grand view of the ocean. If you squinted your eyes enough you could make out a large docks system in the distance, full of enormous ships and warehouses. 

The view had caught your eye though, distracting you from the sorry excuse of a conversation you were having with Jungkook. It was the light that had initially caught your attention, more specifically the sheer intensity of it. The docks were lined with the same street lamps that were brightening the road you were currency driving on, yet it looked like someone dropped the sun into one of the warehouses. 

At first you thought perhaps you were overthinking it, but then Jungkook followed your line of sight, peering critically through the window for a moment before he suddenly sat up straight. It was then that you saw it as well; at the edge of one of the warehouses, a roaring fire was beginning to destroy everything in its vicinity. It was only visible now because it had moved on from behind the warehouse, engulfing the structure itself at an alarming rate. 

A sudden explosion shook the docks, so powerful that you could feel the vibrations of the shock despite your distance from the area. At that moment you felt the car screech to a stop, the momentum pushing both you and Jungkook painfully against your seatbelts for a split second, before Jungkook’s phone suddenly started to ring. 

He picked it up on the first bell, not bothering to hide the call from you this time. You could hear loud sounds erupt from the phone the second the line was accepted, a man’s voice barely audible above the chaos. 

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asked hastily, eyes glued to the wreck. He looked as if he wanted to jump out of the car and run to it, but the distance was far too large for him to get there at any reasonable time. 

The man on the other line grunted for a moment, yelling orders to another before he shouted, “sir! There’s been a few explosions at the West Docks! Three of our warehouses have been destroyed, we’re trying to staunch the flames in the fourth one at the moment!”

“Forget it,” Jungkook shook his head immediately, “order thirty guards to the area to make sure there aren’t any actual threats around and to help out with the flames. And take anyone who’s injured to the hospital right away.”

“Of course, sir!” The man on the other line shouted instantly, but then he hesitated before he spoke again, “but sir… who could have done this?”

Jungkook was silent, and you knew you both were thinking of the same man’s name. 

“Just do as I’ve said. I want the least amount of casualties possible.”

There was an incoherent sound on the other end of the line that resembled a “yes sir” before it went dead. Jungkook’s hand instantly went to brush through his hair, the gears in his head clearly working overtime as he seemed to be deep in thought. Before you could say anything though, his phone rang again and this time your eyes widened as you got a clear view of the caller ID. It was the man that you both were thinking of not even a full minute ago. 

Park Jimin. 

This time Jungkook did wait to pick up the call, instead staring at the screen for a few seconds longer than he should have. The silence in the car stretched, nothing but the sound of his ringtone reverberating throughout the small space, as you noticed his muscles tense under his black suit and the grip on his phone tighten to a point that you were sure it would snap the thing in half. This was probably the most tense you’d ever seen him look. 

Jungkook finally grabbed the handle of the door and threw it open, stepping out of the car without so much as a sound. You watched him close the door behind him, only pausing for a moment to say something to the driver before you watched him disappear into the thick forest on your side of the road, leaving you and the driver alone in a dark and empty road. 

Wow… he really did not want you to hear that conversation. 

-

-

-

Jungkook cut through the trees of the forest, the sound of his ringtone practically mocking him as he continued to walk way deeper than he knew was necessary. He couldn’t help it. Park Jimin’s mere name angered him, and cutting through the trees of the forest was helping him direct that anger onto something unimportant. Because he wouldn’t be able to let it out on Jimin. He had to be calm, collected, and even amused in front of that bastard, nothing that could give away just how well Jimin managed to get under Jungkook’s skin. 

But he eventually came to a stop, realising that he couldn’t go traipsing through the forest forever. The phone still vibrated against his hand as he relaxed his muscles, slipping into the Jeon Jungkook that was unbothered and coolheaded. The one that wouldn’t allow Jimin to have the upper hand because of his practically ancient anger.

Jungkook brought the phone to his ear and, finally, accepted the call.

The line was quiet for a second, as if Jimin expected Jungkook to say the first greeting, but he was just as quiet, forcing Jimin to be the conversation initiator. 

“Hello Jungkook, I was just calling to confirm if you received my gift or not.”

His voice was just as melodically taunting as Jungkook remembered it from years ago, the words instantly causing him to clench his jaw. But he relaxed it once again, knowing that he needed to stay clear headed.

“All that just for me? I must say you flatter me, Jimin.”

“How can I not flatter an old friend?” And Jungkook could practically hear the smile in his voice, knowing how much the mention of old friend would make his blood boil. It did, but Jungkook pushed down the feeling of strangling him through the phone.

“But to what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden gift?” He asked, knowing full well what the attack meant. But he was interested in how Jimin would explain it, whether he would put it plainly or jump around the topic like a coward. 

The line was silent for a second, as if Jimin were choosing which angle he wanted to go by, before he finally spoke again. 

“Why don’t we speak about it over dinner?“

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise, the words catching him off guard. How could Jimin be inviting him over to his territory so easily, after years of silent animosity? Sure, Taehyung and Yoongi have been at each other’s throats the past few years, Taehyung constantly having to fight off the Mins at his border, but the border between the Parks and Jeons have been silent, much like their leaders. 

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, “you’re inviting me to the Park Territory?”

“Yes, I believe it’s time we settle a couple things, don’t you think?”

Settle a couple things was much too ambiguous of a phrase for Jungkook to decipher. Did he want to sort out the terms for a war? Or was Jimin beyond morality now and instead going straight to setting a trap? Jungkook wasn’t really sure what Jimin was capable of after the warehouse of bodies he’d witnessed a week ago. 

His doubts kept him from speaking, allowing nothing but the serene sounds of the dark forest around him to fill the silence. Jimin seemed to sense his hesitance, letting the silence stretch for only a few moments before he chuckled into the line. 

“Come on, Jungkook. What will it be?”

-

-

-

This was an opportunity.

Currently, your husband was alone, surrounded solely by trees, in an environment dark enough that you could very much get away with shooting him dead and not being blamed for it. You wouldn’t even need to shoot the driver to cover up your tracks, lessening your guilty conscience to a decent amount. It was perfect. The only issue now, was how you were going to get into the forest without arousing suspicion. 

You tapped on the divider, waiting only a couple seconds before you pulled the panel down to reveal the professionally dressed driver. 

“Excuse me? I need to use the bathroom,” you announced, trying to sound as urgent as possible while simultaneously keeping your voice naive. 

The driver, on the other hand, looked as though you’d slammed him in the stomach with a sledgehammer. 

“Ma’am…” He spoke hesitantly, “you’ll have to wait.”

“But I need to go nowww,” you whined, trying to put every bit of spoiled brat into your voice as you could. Then you turned your face towards the forest Jungkook had disappeared into, widening your eyes to give the impression that an idea had suddenly popped into your head, before turning back to face him, “I know! I’ll just go in the forest very quickly.”

Without a response, you pushed the door open and stepped out, causing the driver to scramble out of the car as well, pure panic washing over his expression at your determination. 

“Please ma’am! I can’t let you go out there in the dead of night.”

“Why?” You asked, sporting a confused, and very much dumb, look, “it’s fine! I’ll just go towards my husband. He’ll protect me.”

The mention of Jungkook seemed to visibly calm the man, though there was still a lingering hesitance in his expression, “let me walk you to him.”

You waved him off, praying that he let you go without a fuss. You didn’t want things to get more complicated than they needed to be, or it wouldn’t end well for the man before you, “he’s right at the edge, don’t worry! I saw him and everything!”

You turned around and began walking towards the thicket of trees and, to your utmost relief, you didn’t hear the sounds of the driver following. 

It took you about a minute of walking through the forest to realise that Jungkook was, in fact, not at its very edge, which left you trekking deeper into the thicket of trees, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness. You could hear the occasional sound of a bird, that strange humm that always seemed to be present in the wilderness, and the skittering of small animals against fallen branches, but there was no sound of your own expert footsteps to your satisfaction. Jungkook wouldn’t be able to hear what was coming. 

Once you’d created a considerable distance between yourself and the driver, to the point that you were certain he would no longer be able to catch sight of you, your innocent smile dropped, replaced immediately by a look of focus as you reached for the gun at your thigh. 

Your gaze wasted no time in surveying the darkened wilderness around you, flickering down only briefly to double check the magazine once again. Your surroundings were still empty of human life, no signs of Jungkook anywhere near you for the time being. Your brows couldn’t help but furrow, wondering why he’d decided to go hiking to take one phone call, even if it was from Jimin. 

You grabbed the silencer from your holster and began to screw it onto the barrel, strolling until you caught the faint sight of a dark silhouette in the distance. The sight had you crouching instantly, fingers still twisting the silencer into the barrel as you began inching closer to the figure, using the thick trunks of the trees to hide yourself from view. The closer you got, the more the silhouette began to shape into Jungkook, his black hair falling into his eyes as his gaze was directed downwards while one hand held his phone up to his ear. 

You finally hid yourself behind a tree that was directly to his right, letting go of the now fully attached silencer to instead rest your finger against the trigger guard. You were close enough that you could hear his end of the conversation now, one that seemed to have just begun.

“All that just for me? I must say you flatter me, Jimin,” he said, voice cool and collected, but you could see the fist his other hand had become. 

Something about Jimin got under Jungkook’s skin, that was clear enough to you by now. But you wondered, why? Jungkook seemed like a man that was unmoved by a challenge, enjoyed them even, according to your observations these past four days and also according to his reaction to your presence. And yet, small attacks and calls from Jimin were enough to move him? No… there was something deeper to this reaction, something personal between Jimin and Jungkook that you didn’t know about. Some sort of history perhaps?

“But to what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden gift?”

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts. It didn’t matter anymore. You were about to shoot Jungkook dead, making the answers to these questions useless for you. This little mission of yours was over. 

You watched a squirrel scurry down the trunk of a tree to your left, the small animal cloaked in the shadows of the darkness. Eager to get this over with, you placed your hand on the top of the gun, slowly pulling the slide backwards. At the exact moment you heard a click sound from your gun, the squirrel crashed into a pile of leaves, muffling the racking of your slide. Still, your gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook’s expression just in case as both your hands went to hold the handle. His brows were furrowed, but his eyes were still turned downwards, giving the impression that perhaps Jimin had said something he wasn’t expecting. 

Distantly you wondered what it could have been, but physically you brought your gun up from the side of the trunk, pushing the thought out of your mind. 

You felt all thoughts flow out of your head like they always did whenever you were aiming, this time your barrel pointing straight in the direction of Jungkook’s temple. When you saw a lack of any reaction from him, you knew it was over.

Your finger finally pressed against the trigger.

Goodbye, Jungkook.

“You’re inviting me to the Park Territory?”

You froze, your finger stalling as it pushed the trigger by about a third of its pathway, the words making your eyes widen in surprise. It had to be a misunderstanding, your luck couldn’t be so good - or would it be bad in this case? - that Park Jimin was inviting Jeon Jungkook over to his territory? 

You strained your ears, desperately trying to hear Jimin’s answer to the question. You even dangerously pushed your head forward a bit, risking being detected by Jungkook, but he was much too busy staring at the ground with slightly widened eyes to notice your form, clearly just as surprised as you.

You pulled back behind the trunk when you managed to make out a yes from Jimin’s end of the line, causing you to suck in a breath. 

This changed things. 

If Jungkook were to be killed in the Park Territory it wouldn’t just cause tensions between the northern territories, it would instantly cause all out war. Killing a leader while he was visiting another territory was a huge no no, no matter what region of the country you were from. It signified at least some form of ethics in a world that was so unethical, and surprisingly you’d never met a territory that didn’t honour that rule. To the point that when leaders broke that rule, it was instant chaos. All it would take was for Jungkook to die on Park soil for both the Jeons and Kims to retaliate with full force, no room for negotiations or apologies. 

And the best part was that, if Jungkook were to go, he would have to take you. Leaders always took their wives whenever they travelled or visited other territories to assert their power. If Jungkook ended up going to the Park Territory without you, he would give off the impression that he was scared he wouldn't be able to protect you should something go wrong, making him look weak. Mr. Perfect Image would never have that, especially in the face of the one person clearly trying to take over his territory. 

Now it all depended on his answer. 

Your handgun continued to stay pinned on Jungkook’s head, finger still pressing against the trigger as you watched him stare into the ground before him. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain, going over the advantages and disadvantages of his options while his lips were pressed into a firm line. Whether he survived or not tonight was all dependent on the answer he gave now.

You could feel your muscles tensing in anticipation, the natural sounds of the forest blurring into the background as you focused on the man before you. 

Jungkook’s head suddenly lifted, staring straight ahead of him as the chaos of his thoughts seemed to subside. You automatically adjusted your aim, preparing yourself before he finally spoke.

“Fine.”

Your finger instantly lifted off the trigger to let it bounce back into place, pairing with the sound of Jungkook ending the phone call. Your arm dropped to your side as the realisation washed over you. 

The decision had been made, you were going to visit the Parks. 

But one thing had become more clear to you at this very moment. You had just given up a good opportunity to end this man, one that may not show itself again, which meant you could not let it be in vain. No matter what happened there, no matter how you had to do it, Jungkook was dying in the Park Territory. There was no room for failure now, only the end of what needed to be done. 

You’d do anything to make sure of it. 

A/N: Things are about to get very physical 😏 Also comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

[ewyuzu]

broken promises

- you (single mother) & little gumi

warning: contains themes of divorce, emotional distress, and family separation. may be sensitive for readers dealing with similar experiences.

it’s been a week since the divorce papers were signed, and you still haven’t quite adjusted to waking up in an empty bed. the house feels unnervingly silent without the familiar sounds of toji’s presence. you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to summon the energy to face the day, but the heaviness in your chest weighs you down.

then, you hear it.

“mom?”

the soft, sleepy voice of megumi calls out from his room, breaking through the quiet. you rub your eyes and force yourself to get up, pushing away the ache of exhaustion. today isn’t about you—it’s about him. you slide out of bed, your feet cold against the floor, and make your way to his room.

he’s sitting up, hair tousled, blinking sleepily as you walk in. his little arms reach out to you, and without a second thought, you pull him into a hug, breathing in the scent of him. his small frame against yours is both comforting and heartbreaking. you can feel how much he relies on you, and the weight of being his sole parent hits you hard.

“morning, sweetheart,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head before pulling away to look at him. his wide eyes, so much like toji’s, peer up at you, filled with innocence.

“are we making pancakes today?” he asks, his voice still laced with sleep.

you force a smile, nodding. “yeah, we can make pancakes. how about we get you dressed first?”

he nods enthusiastically, and you help him out of bed, trying to focus on the simple tasks. you guide him through the motions—brushing his teeth, getting him dressed, combing through his unruly hair. it’s all routine, but every now and then, your mind drifts to how things used to be. mornings like this used to feel lighter, easier, when toji was still around.

you push the thought away. not today.

as you stand at the stove, flipping pancakes, megumi sits at the table, chattering about the park and the new toy he saw on tv. you try to focus on him, but there’s a dull ache in your chest, a reminder of the life you had before, now shattered. when the pancakes are ready, you sit with megumi and watch him eat, his little face lighting up with every bite.

and then, out of nowhere, he asks, “why doesn’t dad live with us anymore?”

your heart stops.

you stare at him, words caught in your throat. he looks at you, expecting an answer, but how do you explain something like this to a child? you put your fork down and try to keep your voice steady, even though your heart is racing.

“well... sometimes, grown-ups have to make decisions that are best for everyone,” you start, feeling the weight of each word. “but that doesn’t mean dad doesn’t care about you. he loves you very much.”

megumi furrows his brow, clearly not understanding. you wish you could give him more, but how do you tell him the truth? how do you tell him that his father was never really there the way he should’ve been?

“does he miss us?” he asks quietly, and the question nearly breaks you.

you force a smile, even though it feels like your chest is caving in. “i’m sure he does.”

megumi nods slowly, but you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. he’s still so young, too young to understand the complexities of divorce, of separation. you want to protect him from the pain, but you know there’s only so much you can do.

that night, after you tuck megumi into bed, you collapse onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. the exhaustion isn’t just physical—it’s emotional. every part of you feels drained. just as your eyes begin to close, you hear a soft whimper from megumi’s room.

“mom…”

his voice is shaky, small, and it instantly pulls you to your feet. you rush into his room and find him sitting up in bed, tears streaking his cheeks.

“gumi, what’s wrong?” you ask, kneeling beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“i had a bad dream,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “i dreamed that you and dad were gone.”

the words cut through you like a knife. you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he sobs into your shoulder. “i’m here,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “i’m not going anywhere, okay? i promise.”

but even as you say the words, you can feel the weight of the promise hanging heavy over you. how many times have you reassured him, only for life to take a different turn? you hold him tighter, hoping it’s enough to soothe his fears, if only for tonight.

a few nights later, as you sit with megumi while he colours at the kitchen table, he proudly holds up a drawing.

“look, mom! it’s our family.”

you take the paper from him, your heart twisting as you look at it. he’s drawn the three of you—you, him, and toji. all of you are holding hands, smiling. your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“it’s beautiful, gumi,” you whisper, forcing a smile as you blink back tears. he’s so proud of it, so innocent, completely unaware of the reality that you and toji are no longer a family. not in the way he imagines.

he beams at your praise, and you hang the drawing on the fridge, but as you do, the ache in your chest deepens. megumi’s world is still so simple, so full of hope. you wish you could keep it that way forever. but deep down, you know that soon enough, the cracks in the illusion will start to show. and when they do, you’ll have to face them together.

[kinicheous]

dazed | kinich

kinich comes to your rescue, but your oh so poor heart doesn't know how to deal with it.

genres/notes: fluff, angst if you squint, reader is down bad, reader is also injured/poisoned (let me know if something is missing!)

you feel embarrassed. flustered. warm, but in a good way. or maybe not, you can’t tell for sure. you want time to stop, but you also want it to fast-forward you out of the current. you can sense the parts of your body that hurt — which make the reason you’re in this situation in the first place — but your mind is too hazed to care about that really yet. 

kinich’s presence almost throws you off. it makes you let your guard down, but you also feel hyper aware of everything around you. you want to keep a healthy distance that will give the beating against your ribcage a break, but you also want to be closer. closer and closer, impossibly closer, as if you’re not being held against his chest at this very moment.

you’re conscious of every inch of his arm around you, all the way out to the fingertips that dig into your hips to further secure his grip. he’s careful about it, yet knowing just fine what he’s doing, seeing as his vines travel you through the dense jungles of natlan with ease.

the chill air should feel nice against your face like this, brushing it like gentle whips, but it does nothing to cool it down. it’s still burning terribly, and your guess is that kinich can feel it too as you subconsciously nuzzle into the crook of his neck. turns out you’re right because he soon sighs,

“don’t tell me the poison’s giving you a fever.”

you definitely don’t have a fever.

you don’t try to respond back with more than a shake of your head. much to your relief, he doesn’t question it any further. just a quiet “good”, and you realize that even one word alone has a special ring to it as long as it’s spoken in his voice — the more you comprehend that fact, the more pathetic you feel. 

kinich opens his mouth, ready to speak. he doesn’t have a particular interest in scolding someone who’s injured and poisoned to the border of comatose, but this is slightly different; on his way back from a commission, he’d just happened to stumble across your miserable state; it was surprising to see someone greatly familiar with combat crouching back against a tree, heavily breathing while in desperate attempts of hiding from tribal warriors. were you on a commission of your own? or fighting an informal battle? a misunderstanding? he wasn’t sure, but watching them about to gang up on a single, damaged person — who he, on top of that, knew very well — didn’t sit right with him. before you knew it, you were no longer on dangerous ground. or any ground at all.

kinich truly is ready to speak, but nothing comes out when he suddenly feels you fisting his shirt, tightly collecting the fabric between your fingers. so, he closes his mouth, letting out a deep breath through his nose. “stop being scared. i’m not going to drop you.”

you definitely aren’t scared.

you couldn’t be, ever. you trust him, possibly a bit more than you’d like to admit, and you don’t like this type of feeling — this type of affection, one you initially thought would be softer, sweeter and kinder, only to turn out to be much more violent. it feels rather like being internally assassinated, or like having your flesh dramatically ripped apart.

you simply never expected that falling in love with someone meant exposing the most fragile pieces of yourself. 

you can’t handle that any further, so you make a meek attempt to push yourself away from him. claiming that “you don’t have to carry me all the way back,” that “i can walk on my own”, yet it doesn’t surprise you the slightest when he holds you even closer with a scoff he doesn’t even try to cover.

“if i dropped you off by your door right now, i don’t think you’d even make it to your room,” kinich sighs and for a second, in the middle of your growing exhaust, you have to wonder if you’re actually feeling his lips graze the top of your head, “so just rest until we’re there.”

[velieditss]

Forbidden Desires

Pairing: Davos Blackwood x Bracken!reader

Summary: Perhaps, you will find some common ground to earn a truce, however, how much of your past are you willing to reveal?

Previous parts: Masterlist

Part 5

«Out of sight, out of mind. If only it were true» you thought.»

"Do you think if I venture out, the spirits of the Blackwoods will strike me dead?" Elena found you slumped in one of the armchairs, exhaustion etched across your face. You’d thought yourself well-versed in handling family disputes, but the Blackwoods—the Blackwoods—were leagues beyond anything you had ever encountered. The king should have awarded you a pension if you managed to survive the crows.

"I do not know, my lady, if you believe in such things..." she replied, glancing at you from your reclined position. In a manner most unbecoming of your upbringing, you practically collapsed onto the soft cushions.

"I don’t know what to believe anymore, Elena," you sighed. "Perhaps if a spirit possessed me, it might scare him enough to send me away."

You were losing your sanity, and absurdly enough, you had only been in this house for a day—no, not even a full day, mere hours.

"I think it best you rest, my lady... You have had a difficult day."

"He’s an insufferable man. Help me think of other options, Elena," you insisted, ignoring her advice.

The poor girl hadn’t the faintest idea what to tell you.

"I didn’t expect him to be so handsome," Elena commented.

"And what has that to do with anything?"

"Well, it might make him a little more tolerable for you, my lady."

You scoffed.

"Or not. We’ve yet to see his true nature. A man in pain is never at his best." You were adept at reading people, but all you had deduced so far was that he was utterly detestable. "And to think... he may never be 'at his best' if I’m to be honest."

"If I may speak freely, my lady, perhaps you should wait to be sure of that. Besides, what other options do you have?"

You were on the verge of tears.

"I don’t know! There must be something..."

«Other than poisoning him, as my brother insists.*

"If you leave here, you won’t be able to return home."

"I know."

"They’ll just drag you back here."

"I know!" You pressed a hand to your forehead. "I need an entire bottle of wine or ale—anything!"

After a long silence, you heard Elena approach. She knelt before you, taking your hand as if she were an elder sister offering solace to a younger one.

"Believe me or not, my lady, but you’re on the right track. You’ve already won over the servants, and even the woman who raised the lord himself. As I told you, we know far more than you realise. If I were to wager, I’d suggest finding some common ground with him, either through companionship or with what the servants might share. You may discover an arrangement or bargain that will suit him, and that may lead to a truce. Once that’s in place, you can strike the final blow."

"I wouldn’t say seducing him into loving me is ‘striking the final blow.’"

"You’d be striking a blow to his hostility. After that, anything is possible."

The idea intrigued you. Perhaps you could indeed reach an agreement if you persuaded him. He already knew you wouldn’t leave of your own accord. All you needed to do was devise a deal that was mutually beneficial. It might be the way to gain Davos’ friendship—friendship before love. Friends before becoming lovers. It would grant you time to win his favour, time to insinuate yourself into his thoughts, and later, his heart. It would be a challenge, certainly, perhaps the greatest of your life, but if you set your mind to it…

Yet there was one obstacle: what if you could never overcome your aversion to him? Still, you were a master at concealing your feelings… or at least, you had been before you arrived at this wretched place! But you could regain control, provided he never realised how much you disliked him.

𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎

No, of course Davos did not take kindly to hearing the message Maida had sent him through her niece. Firstly, he had nearly choked on the water he had been drinking; secondly, he could scarcely fathom how a woman so cold and reserved could have dared to utter such a thing.

What could have transpired in his absence to bring about this situation?

“Have you not been keeping an eye on her?” Davos demanded of his sister, his voice heavy with disbelief.

“I am no guard to follow her every step,” Alysanne retorted, her tone challenging the very reason behind the question.

Davos was at a loss. Ever since that woman’s arrival, it felt as though everything was slipping through his fingers, as though he no longer grasped what was happening within his own household.

“Did you see how she smiled when she told me her aunt was feeding my children?” he pointed towards the door, as though the girl were still standing there, her pride lingering freshly in his memory. “She was proud to tell me!”

Alysanne let out a faint chuckle, crossing her arms before sinking into the chair.

“I did, I was there,” she replied, her tone betraying her amusement at the whole affair.

Davos snorted and shook his head in frustration.

“What has that girl been up to?”

“You can ask her yourself. She will dine with you tonight.”

“You truly do despise me, don’t you?”

“Quite so,” she answered, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎

Approaching that bed again was just as unsettling, for his long, muscular bare leg still lay draped over the sheet.

He remained in bed, propped up by numerous pillows, though at least he now wore a white nightshirt—though it hung open almost to his waist. And he had combed his hair! But he hadn’t shaved, and his beard darkened the lower half of his face. Perhaps he was feeling a little better...

“What in the spirit’s name are you wearing?” he growled as you neared the bed.

You felt a brief flush of embarrassment as you realised his gaze had fixed itself on your neckline, but you pressed on regardless. You might love the comfort of modern fashion, but you had never quite grown accustomed to the deep necklines so popular in the riverlands.

“I always dress like this for dinner,” you lied.

“Not when you’re dining with me.” You placed a hand on your hip, watching him with a genuine challenge in your eyes.

“As you wish. I can be very adaptable.” He snorted at your words, and, since he already seemed as feral as a beast, you added, “I suppose there’s no need to ask how you’re feeling tonight. You don’t seem much improved.”

“I’m ravenous, that’s what I am. I’ve been put off twice now, with no explanation as to why I haven’t yet been served. How did you manage to seduce my cook?”

“I didn’t seduce her,” you replied in a light tone. “In fact, it’s abundantly clear that your staff don’t like me one bit.”

“Then why do they listen to you rather than me?” Davos exclaimed.

“Because I’m a lady, of course,” you replied bluntly. “And the servants wouldn’t dare defy a lady due to the severe consequences of such behaviour; you must have overlooked that in your fever. Besides, your little plot to starve me while I’m here won’t work—at least wait until you’re well enough to keep an eye on the kitchen yourself. Because in the meantime, I’ll toss your cook out with a broom and prepare my own food if I must. So perhaps you ought to reconsider that unpleasant plan. Burnt bread and nothing more? What were you thinking?”

His face reddened a bit further. You should have been angry too, but having eaten a decent slice of pie at lunch, his attempt to starve you began to seem somewhat amusing, and you tried to calm him down a little.

“I suppose our dinner will arrive soon enough, but in the meantime...” He lowered his voice and stopped talking, so you glanced at his wound, relieved when you could say, “It looks better. It’s not as red.”

“I don’t see why you care. You belong to the most tiresome, odious, repellent, detestable, abhorrent—”

“I get it.”

“What do you care if the wound reddens, if I lose the leg or die?”

“I care because, hard as it may be to believe, and despite the fact you’re an ill-mannered brute, I have no desire to be left with an eleven-year-old as a husband.”

He clicked his tongue.

“You could stop insulting me.”

“And you could give me a reason to stop.”

So far, you had spoken in a courteous tone, even smiled at him, something that clearly confused him. Good, it was a start—it would pique his curiosity, catch him off guard.

“It’s far more likely that, should I die, Alysanne will be pledged to one of your brothers. Or rather, she’d sacrifice herself to spare Benji from such a fate.”

Yes, you couldn’t fault him for speaking that way—you felt the same. And honestly, Alysanne wasn’t a bad person; you didn’t wish that fate on her either.

You looked at him in silence for a few moments, and he looked back at you.

“Don’t you dare do what you’re thinking.”

Kill him? You’d thought of that long before arriving here.

“And what, exactly, am I thinking?”

“Killing me”

“Says the one who tried to starve me,” you replied with a smile as he scoffed, and you sat at the edge of the bed.

“Do you wish me dead?” he asked.

“Do you think I can make wishes come true?”

“Can you?”

“I didn’t think you were superstitious, Lord Blackwood. But if I possessed such a talent, I wouldn’t be here, would I? I’d be at home, enjoying my freedom without the need to endure this dreadful situation.”

“Is that all? Wouldn’t you wish for something more grand?”

The question surprised you. Was Davos trying to learn something more about you?

“Not really. I was quite content with my life.”

Yes, your brothers were insufferable idiots, and your sister could be excessively spoiled and superficial, and yes, at times you despised them—but they were your family, and you loved them as they were. Of course, being away from them wasn’t unpleasant, but you had been happy.

“You know I have no reason to believe in your interest in my health, and plenty of reasons not to.”

“Quite right! But I don’t aim to convince you of anything, so it doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. You asked, I answered. And since we’re both making confessions…”

“Not ‘both,’” Davos interrupted, emphasising the word.

You ignored him and carried on.

“I should warn you that I’m not one to reveal my feelings. I’ve grown accustomed to hiding them, so to speak.”

“Why?”

“Would you reveal yours?”

“Is this reverse psychology?”

“Exactly! It often is, but not this time. And earlier I was angry, as you may have noticed. I couldn’t hide my anger because—”

“But how will I know if you’re hiding or revealing your true feelings?” he interrupted again.

“I admit it might be hard for you to tell. So why don’t we agree to be honest with each other?”

“I hope you won’t stay here long enough for that to matter.”

That wasn’t quite what you’d expected to hear, but once again, you were speaking to Davos Blackwood, not some ordinary man.

“Well, that’s a start,” you responded sarcastically.

“Fine, I’ll continue sharing my feelings with you. That’s exactly what you’ve been doing, so I suppose we needn’t agree on anything at all.”

If he couldn’t see that he had finally succeeded in irritating you, then he must have been blind. But Davos had no time to respond, for at that moment, dinner arrived, and at last, his expression changed to something brighter.

You nearly laughed—it was clear his mood had improved solely because he was starving.

You picked up one of the two trays of food that had been placed on the small dining table and brought it to Davos. A small vase of flowers had been added to one of the trays; Maida must have been trying to make amends for delaying dinner until you were ready. In your defence, it had been Alysanne’s order, not yours.

He likely wouldn’t even notice how lovely the flowers were. You knew you should offer him a smile as you set the tray beside him, but you couldn’t manage it. He was lucky you didn’t drop the tray in his lap.

“Do you want me to feed you?”

You really had to stop provoking him. You received only the furious glare you deserved, and Davos didn’t thank you for placing the tray within his reach or for handing him the plate. Did he have no manners at all, or did he reserve his unbearable rudeness just for you?

After lifting the ceramic lid that covered his dish, you returned to the dining table where you intended to eat—away from him. Again, you were reacting to his rudeness, forgetting your effort to win his favour. Then, you changed your mind, removed the lid from your own plate, picked up the tray, and sat in the chair beside the bed. You would be pleasant to him despite his foul mood and show him you were perfectly delightful company.

He didn’t tell you to leave again; perhaps he was too busy eating to care. The baked fish was accompanied by a tangy cream sauce and crisp vegetables. You found the dish quite tasty. There were also biscuits, small bowls of butter, and for dessert, cinnamon buns.

Davos seemed to have no trouble reaching everything on his tray. Other than the wound on his thigh, his body was in perfect condition, and his arms were long. You imagined that when he stood, his height would impress you. Would he be even more intimidating then? You hoped for some kind of truce before that.

With your fork in hand, you searched for a topic of conversation that didn’t revolve around your future marriage. Curious about his family, you asked, “When will your father return?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He seemed to be weighing whether or not to respond, which gave you a sense of satisfaction when, at last, he murmured,

“I don’t know. He’s almost never here. My father and my uncle travel a lot.”

“The same could be said of my family. My father travels to King’s Landing more than he does to his own lands. It’s funny that we have that in common.”

He looked at you with incredulity, his brow furrowing.

“We have absolutely nothing in common. You have an annoying habit of jumping to conclusions, especially when they couldn’t be further from the truth. My father doesn’t travel to attend the kingdom’s frivolities; he travels because, with the heavy rains, some of our vassal villages have suffered damage to their homes.”

“And when did I say that my father attends the kingdom’s frivolities?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, didn’t you?” His tone was more sarcastic than apologetic. He knew he was right, and though it was the last thing you wanted to admit, you couldn’t contradict him.

“He has important matters to attend to.”

“Sure.” But he wasn’t paying attention. Irritated, you rolled your eyes.

Leaning forward, you finally caught his gaze, not just because of the sudden movement, but because now he had a perfect view of your neckline.

“You don’t believe me?” you asked playfully.

“You don’t believe your own words, darling.”

Darling?

“And what would you know?” you challenged, leaning closer, and he didn’t back down.

"I know plenty. Your father has drawn a lot of attention around here… and not the good kind."

That didn’t surprise you. You knew that anyone could speak ill of your family, and no one would refute it. But this time, curiosity got the better of you.

"There must be something good," you insisted with a smile. "We’re not that terrible, even though you all see us as the worst."

He let out a laugh, taking a sip of wine before replying:

"If you’re looking for something charming, you’re on the wrong side."

"I know that already, but there has to be something, no matter how small."

He fell silent, as if for a brief moment he was genuinely considering it. His eyes fixed on yours, as though analyzing every line of your face, every expression, searching for something more.

Finally, he spoke:

"You were going to get married, weren’t you?"

Your smile vanished, along with the light flirtation in the air. You straightened up and looked down at your plate, now half empty.

It wasn’t a secret, of course, but it wasn’t something you enjoyed remembering either.

"Maybe," you admitted without lying or hiding the truth.

"What happened?"

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to talk about it, not really.

"My sister liked him more."

You said it without emotion, without shame or guilt, just the cold acceptance of a truth you had long since come to terms with.

He had the courtesy not to ask any further, and silently, you were grateful.

𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎

When you opened your eyes in the wide, dark room, you didn’t know where you were. Disoriented, you sat up, looked around, then laid your head back on the soft pillows and remembered—you were at Raven Tree, in the home of the angry, rude, and handsome man who would become your husband.

The night before, when you returned to your chamber, you had taken a sip of the sleeping draught that Elena had offered, and since it hadn’t taken immediate effect, you drank another sip. You feared it might take a while for you to fall asleep in that room each night because of the door connecting your room to his, which you couldn’t open, but he could from his side.

You noticed that Elena had already been there; there was fresh water in the washbasin, still slightly warm, but the curtains were still drawn. You opened them and smiled at the sight of the garden beneath you. It looked charming bathed in the morning sunlight. If you could find a book, maybe you would spend the day reading on one of the many benches.

When you had unpacked your trunks, the tall bookshelf in your room had been empty, as were the rest of the furnishings. The décor of the room indicated that a woman had previously occupied it. The large canopy bed was covered with a thick white blanket adorned with pink flowers and edged with frills.

The carpet was a deeper pink, mixed with yellow and garnet, while the walls were of a lighter stone than the rest of the castle. Next to both windows stood a settee and a comfortable-looking chair, both upholstered in lavender brocade with silver threads. Between the chair and the settee was an intricately carved table.

You had left your toiletries and jewelry box on the vanity; a small desk was still empty and would remain so, as you had no stationery, but perhaps you’d buy some in the nearest village. You thought you might let his mother know how much fun you were having in this place.

You dressed quickly, which wasn’t hard with the current fashion. You tied your hair back with a white ribbon that matched your dress; you were more accustomed to wearing it that way than in the elaborate style you had worn the previous night and during the journey here.

Although Davos might be waiting for you, you were in no hurry to return to that room, so you first went downstairs, passed through the kitchen on your way to the stables, and grabbed two sausages.

Once your curiosity was satisfied, you returned upstairs.

Certainly, the dinner the night before had ended on a tense, uncomfortable note, and although you had managed to silence Davos Blackwood, there was a bitter aftertaste in your mouth when you left the lord’s chamber.

The subject of your failed engagement was something that had been over for more than three years. You had barely turned fifteen when that drama unfolded, and now, in a way, you were grateful for how things had turned out.

However, that wasn’t what you should be thinking about right now.

You had failed in your mission to win Davos over, although you felt that at some point, the conversation had taken a more casual, almost playful turn between the two of you. If there was one thing you could vouch for as something you had in common, it was the incessant need to tease each other, though that didn’t guarantee anything.

He could still unleash his fury and kick you out of his house, but that would only happen in a moment of blind rage. If he lost his temper, he would only be giving up everything that mattered to him, just to get rid of you. That was why he was so angry and doing everything possible to force you to leave.

"How much time did he have to win that battle? Was there a deadline before you had to marry or face the consequences? Because your family had certainly rushed to send you here. You thought about asking him, and perhaps you shouldn’t keep him waiting while he was expecting you.

That thought made you quicken your pace. Once again, as you entered, Davos’s room was filled with servants, and there was no voice that didn’t wish you good morning.

You offered your own smile as you approached the bed.

"Are you always surrounded by such a retinue in here?"

His blue eyes had settled on you as soon as you appeared, already frowning. However, he deigned to answer:

"One is here to assist me and bring what I ask for, another is busy with my clothes, and the last has come to be a damned nuisance."

Your cheerful smile faded, but not your determination.

"If you’re referring to me…"

"I’m referring to that little brat over there." Suddenly, you noticed Benjicot, who seemed to be giving orders to the servants as if he knew what he was doing. "But if you want to add yourself to the list, that’s up to you."

"There’s no need to repeat things that are already clear. Still, I think it’s time to call for a truce," you said, trying to change the subject.

"Promise you’ll leave before the wedding, and you’ll get an immediate truce."

You wondered if you should pretend to agree, just to see what he was like when he wasn’t growling or scowling, but no—you didn’t want to give him false hope, only to have it crushed later.

"Mmm, I don’t think so..." You glanced at his wound; the leeches were no longer stuck to his leg, and you were thankful for that for two reasons: it was an unpleasant sight, and you didn’t think they had done much good.

However, to your surprise, the wound seemed to have drained well; you didn’t know if it was thanks to those disgusting insects or if they had applied some kind of ointment that helped.

"It looks better than yesterday," you commented, adjusting the bandage that seemed freshly applied.

"Better or not, I still can’t walk."

"It would be better if you hadn’t gone riding the day I arrived." He shrugged.

"Risks I was willing to take."

You didn’t know how many times you had rolled your eyes since you met him. And all because he didn’t want to welcome you—how ridiculous.

To distract him and yourself, you decided to bring up the topic that troubled you.

"When are we supposed to get married?"

"Too soon."

"Wouldn’t it be enough to get engaged?"

"No. The king doesn’t like problems, or at least those problems that can be solved easily and quickly. He firmly believes this marriage," he pointed at you and himself, "will resolve our differences and make us the closest in the land of rivers."

The last part was said with clear sarcasm.

"I know King Viserys is a pacifist, but… there have been marriages between our families, and I don’t see that the relationship has improved in any way."

"Yes, His Majesty chose to ignore that fact." Davos shrugged. "Oh, and it’s good that you ask, because he wants it immediately. So if we don’t marry within the time frame he set, he’ll get what he really wants through this nonsense. The first of three banns was read yesterday during Sunday mass. The emissary took care of it before departing."

That news caused you some discomfort.

"So there are only two weeks left? I’m surprised the emissary didn’t wait for my arrival to marry us at the threshold of the door."

"He wanted to. I only managed to postpone the matter due to the seriousness of my injury; he clearly saw that I was hurt since I had to receive him lying in bed. He was the one who stipulated that you must remain here while this lasts. If you leave..."

"Yes, yes, we know your feelings; mine are the same as yours. Believe me: I wish none of this had happened. As I told you, enjoying my freedom is something I wouldn’t have wanted to change, and instead, I have to endure your presence. My apologies, my lord, I didn’t mean to insult you."

"You shouldn’t try to provoke me," he said in a dark tone.

Well, it was time to put an end to this if you didn’t want to grab the vase next to him and throw it at his face.

"So you’re the only one allowed to be provoking? Wait a minute: does that mean I’m supposed to be here to see what happens if I ignore your advice? Which means you won’t say the words that would put an end to all this, right? And that suggests a truce is still the best solution for both of us."

Incredibly, he didn’t respond with a no, and that gave you the confidence to continue.

"Look, Davos, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you and remind you that this is something I never wanted, a situation I never intruded upon, and now I have to pay for the decisions of the idiots I call brothers. So I’m just asking you for a bit of decency, manners, and respect." You truly wondered if what you were asking was so complicated. "Let’s just get married in two weeks and live our lives apart. I won’t bother you, and you won’t bother me, and that’s that."

For now, it was the best you could hope for from this situation. The idea of loving him, of learning to care for him, felt like an unreachable horizon; you didn’t want to cling to an illusion that could vanish at any moment. So you decided to embrace reality, however harsh it was.

Your words resonated in the air, bringing him to silence. However, deep down, you knew you were right. Both of you were trapped, but among your intertwined souls, he bore the greater burden of guilt.

"Very well," he finally said, in a tone that invited reflection. "Let’s have a truce."

You couldn’t help but let a genuine smile appear on your face, an expression of gratitude that bubbled up from deep within you.

At the end of the day, perhaps Davos Blackwood did have a heart, and an intelligence that, though hidden, was glimpsed in his words.

"But, it will be on my own terms" you never thought you'd feel a look burn as much as his. "Do you still want to go ahead?"

"yes, no, I don't know."

It was the truce you were looking for so much, then, everything was valid in between.

"Yes."

Then, you saw him smile slightly.

…

We have finally reached the point of no return 🤭

[sukibenders]

Racism and misogynoir are so apparent in fandom, especially when it comes to shipping because why is it when a white male, sometimes female but I see it more with the former, character is on screen with a love interest, particularly woc, especially if they're black, and even with all the emotional scenes or just moments where they look at one another in ways different from the rest, it's met with "No, they aren't dating/the show is not going to put them together" but let the other love interest be white as well and suddenly it all makes sense? Heck, the examples I mentioned above don't even have to exist between the latter for some to STILL go and believe this rhetoric (eg. some Jace and Helaena shippers because, even if these two only interacted with a dance but yet we see Baela console Jace, after he seeks her out, apparently it's to far fetched to believe that Jacela could be a thing?!)

Sometimes it could be a headcanon that, largely, would make sense (and oftentimes was birth due to lack of respect that the poc characters could have been given by the writers *cough* TVD *cough*), and yet you'd still have people dismissing it left and right and spewing hate. At a HEADCANON! And I'm not saying that just because the other person in the ship is poc that you have to ship them, I'm not, but it's very apparent to many poc fans in fandom that unless the characters are swapping spit and doing the nasty, the possibility of them being viewed in any romantic lens feels too much of stretch even though their white counterparts don't have to jump through the same loops.

[bitchthefuck1]

you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.

There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, don’t read them if you’re having a bad day, they’ll probably not help in the slightest.

[anaalnathrakhs]

btw my mom said it. she said it to me looking me in the eyes. i told her about how difficult it was for me to get through those family reunions, and she admitted it was very important to her, important enough that she was just going to do it anyway.

[tasmanianstripes]

People need to practice minding their own damn business

Don't come into people's inboxes giving unsolicited advice or criticizing their personal stuff. Don't reblog somebody's posts saying how much you hate it and their opinions.

Don't like somebody's characterisation, AUs or the kind of art they post? It might even annoy you?

Okay, cool. Go make your own post. Block them. Be a little hater about it to your friends. It's good for your soul!

But don't be goddamn rude to people. Don't make it their problem.

"I don't like what this artist likes mah mah mah"

Here's a wild idea;

Artists...don't need to cater to you. You are not entitles to their work. Nobody on the internet should coddle you and post only stuff you like.

Shocker, I know.

[zenjestrr]

ok someone just made a post about how some women are treated a type of way purely off of vibes (specifically mean girl vibes in that post) and how it's fucked up to presuppose that going off of absolutely nothing and I definitely agree that's fucked up however, they also said men don't get treated this way and I was like H U U U U U U H H H H H H ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? men ABSOLUTELY get treated negatively by absolute strangers based off of Vibes™, are we living on the same planet? you know how many guys have been minding their own business but are called creepy or intimidating behind their back? this is especially common for men of color. bro someone once told me that I gave off serial killer vibes like ??????

[faethfigueroth]

.

[the-kipsabian]

.

[loumauve]

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