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lokileaf · 25 days ago

Note

Hi! Do you write requests? If so, I just need like a lokixreader fic where they’re having an arranged marriage but they don’t know that they’re soulmates. For context, soulmates in this universe have half a quote written somewhere on them that is important to their relationship. Bonus points if it’s enemies to lovers, with the reader also being witty and having the ability to keep Loki on his toes.

Yes, I love requests! Thank you for submitting! 💚

Tradition

Loki x f!Reader

It was a silly tradition. Nonsensical, honestly. The idea that the Norns could shape his destiny was ridiculous. Fate was a thing for mortals to find comfort in or blame for their bad fortune.

Not determine who he was permitted to marry.

Even prior to the script making its appearance on his skin, he had come to a decision. He would not share it with anyone. His mother and father would never know. After all, it was not unheard of for the tattoos to fail to appear for certain individuals. Surely no one would question his particular lack of writing.

Unfortunately, no amount of planning or plotting could prevent his heart from sinking as the sentence looped its way across the pale skin of his collarbone on that fateful day.

…but it was love eventually.

Loki did his best to prevent himself from attempting to derive any meaning from the unfinished quote. After all, he had already decided it was meaningless. What use was speculation when he had already made up his mind?

A celebration was customary upon the appearance of one’s soul mark. Your parents were elated when yours materialized, inking itself across your ribcage.

It wasn’t love at first sight…

Your heart soared at the potential the incomplete sentence held.

As high-ranking members of the Allfather’s court, it was thrilling news. Lords and ladies made their appearances at the ball put on in your honor, taking the opportunity to consult your parents accordingly. The event buzzed with nobles hoping their son or daughter would be the fortunate individual to complete your soul mark, thus securing an advantageous betrothal.

However, no such arrangement presented itself. As time went on, you began to resent the script. Your continued lack of apparent soulmate became the talk of the court, a stain upon your marriage prospects.

And oh how Loki loved to remind you of this particular shortcoming.

It began with snide comments at your soul mark celebration. Having been raised with one another, you were quite used to his sharp tongue and merciless teasing. You brushed him off at first, sure that your soul mate would would make themselves known before the evening’s end.

By the time your guests had begun to filter their way out of your family’s manor, tears were pricking your eyes with their sharp sting. Loki’s words were needling their way under your skin, taking up residence in the back of your mind.

You sat with your back against the wall of an abandoned hallway, the light dimming as tears forced their way through your closed lids. Your legs were folded up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, head bowed to prevent any potential passersby from seeing your now puffy face.

You had finally run out of tears when you heard footsteps making their way down the hall. You jumped, hastily wiping your face as you stumbled up to your feet, your mind scrambling to find an adequate excuse for your distraught state. You had barely situated yourself upright before realizing the footsteps belonged to the younger prince.

“Ah, it’s only you,” you huffed, straightening the rumpled fabric of your formal attire.

“You would do well to address your prince appropriately,” Loki replied pompously, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked you up and down.

“My prince would do well to not stick his royal nose where it does not belong,” you shot back, clearly not in the mood for his attitude.

You caught a glimpse of a smirk making its way across his lips as you self-consciously attempted to smooth your hair back down.

“A bit sensitive this evening, are we? Disappointed with that frivolous little tradition, perhaps?”

You ignored the barb and began to make your way back to the great hall, your solitude thoroughly ruined by the God of Mischief. Your agitation only grew as he followed closely behind, clearly having chosen you as his evening entertainment.

“Surely you can’t be shocked,” he stated plainly, as if it were obvious.

You paused mid stride, turning to face him. Your emotions had already been chaffed raw, leaving you with little patience for mincing words.

“And what exactly do you mean by that, Your Highness,” you snapped. You hated to give in to his ruse but you were in no mood for his backhanded comments at the moment.

“Well, my lady,” he started, “one should not be so surprised that an individual as foolhardy as yourself would not be granted a soulmate of noble standing.”

Your face began to heat with indignation, a flourish of nasty insults rising to your tongue. You glared at him, forcing yourself to retain a semblance of self control.

Despite his endless capacity to annoy you, he really was unfairly handsome. His sharp cheekbones, angular jawline, his pale skin contrasting with his raven hair. And not to mention his substantial height and devastatingly blue eyes.

It was truly unfortunate that he maintained an insatiable need to ruin it all with his loud mouth.

“I supposed one should also not be surprised to learn that an individual as ill-mannered as yourself would have no soulmate at all”, you finally shot back before storming off to your chambers.

He watched you go, rooted to the spot by your quick jab. He would have been impressed had the retort not stung him so unexpectedly. He felt his brow furrow as your fleeing form rounded a corner, disappearing from view.

Is that how his people viewed his alleged lack of a soul mark? As a direct result of his prickly personality? A personal failing?

He supposed he should not have been as offended by this notion as he was. After all, had he not just insinuated the same toward you?

Best not to think about it, he determined.

This mutual irritation continued on throughout your… relationship. If one could even call it that. The years continued to pass and your soulmate had failed to manifest themselves. Additionally, Loki’s soul mark had continued in its failure to appear.

Or so he had you believe.

With Thor earning himself a full fledged banishment from Asgard, the throne found itself with one heir remaining.

One heir with no marriage prospects.

Amidst swirling rumors, the Allfather had summoned your family to the palace to discuss “a matter of utmost importance”, though your father had neglected to inform you of exactly what this meeting entailed.

You waited silently just outside of the throne room, wishing you could be anywhere else. You truly adored the king and queen, but Loki had taken to roaming the palace more freely in his brother’s absence, leaving you subject to his comings and goings.

You jumped as his green and gold clad figure appeared next to you, seemingly out of nowhere, a smirk on his lips.

“Do you ever tire of your juvenile magic tricks?” you snapped at him, your irritation evident. He placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt.

“As I recall, my lady, you quite enjoyed my magic tricks in our youth.”

You ignored his comment, instead focusing on your attempt to eavesdrop on your parents and the Allfather and -mother. Loki watched in silence as you pressed your ear to the throne room door, your face screwed up in concentration.

He threaded a hand behind your head, cupping it with his palm before you flinched away from the contact, a bewildered expression on your face.

“Relax, my lady, I am only trying to assist you,” he muttered.

He reached his hand out once more, waiting for you grant him permission to touch you. You nodded slowly, allowing him to lace his fingers through the back of your hair, cupping your jaw. He pressed his other hand to the door, using his seiðir to amplify the conversation and direct it straight into your mind. The two of you waited in concentrated silence, anxious to hear what was being discussed.

“-believe this arrangement would be advantageous to both our families. Our children are of marrying age, after all, and the throne requires an heir be betrothed.”

“We quite agree, Your Majesty. I speak for our entire family when I say that we would be delighted to have our daughter betrothed to Prince Loki.

You could no longer hear the exchange over the pounding of your heart in your ears. You stumbled away from the door in shock. Loki released you from his grasp, his eyes wide and staring at the door in front of him. You took a moment to compose yourself before turning on your heel to face him, rage boiling in your blood.

“If this is one of your tricks, Odinson, it is not amusing,” you snapped at him accusingly.

“I assure you, my lady, this development is completely free of my influence.”

Hearing footsteps approaching, Loki darted toward you, swiftly taking you in his arms and spinning you around so your back was pressed against his chest. You thrashed against his hold, your agitation having reached its peak.

“Be still. Someone is coming,” he whispered hurriedly, his lips brushing ever so slightly against the shell of your ear as he pressed himself back against the palace wall. His arms held you firmly in place against him and you looked down to see that your bodies had completely disappeared.

“What is this?” you asked accusingly, voice just above a whisper. An invisible hand shot up to clamp over your mouth, irritating you further. You felt Loki duck his head down to whisper in your ear once more.

“I am preventing us from being discovered in a rather compromising position. And you’re quite loud,” he replied.

Despite your annoyance with the prince, a warmth settled low in your abdomen as his breath caressed the skin behind your ear. Before you could give much thought to your body’s reaction, the throne room door opened, revealing each of your parents.

You felt Loki’s arms tighten around you, pressing you further into him as the Allfather came dangerously close to brushing against your hidden form.

“I supposed we should inform our children of the arrangement?” Frigga proposed to the group, placing a hand on her husband’s arm.

“Indeed… over a feast, perhaps?” Odin suggested, leading the group down the palace hall and away from your current position.

You didn’t bother listening for your parents’ reply, ripping yourself from Loki’s grasp before storming off toward the guest chambers.

“My lady, wait…” Loki started, following closely behind.

You burst through your chamber doors rather unceremoniously, throwing yourself onto the settee at the foot of your temporary bed. You covered your face with your hands, frustrated tears forcing their way out.

“You know, you could have procured a significantly worse betrothal,” Loki stated, breaking the tension.

“Not now, Loki…” you sighed, sounded defeated.

He let the silence continue for a few moments, unsure of how to balance his desire to comfort you and his own shock at the impending betrothal. He quietly lowered himself next to you on the settee, placing a slightly awkward hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him, slightly confused by the uncharacteristic gesture.

“Surely being my bride-to-be is not as devastating as you believe,” he teased gently, his eyes softening as they met yours. You couldn’t help the slight smile that broke across your lips.

“As aggravating as you are, my prince, it’s not that. I simply feel… like a failure, I suppose,”

“Do tell.”

You hesitated ever so slightly, unsure if bearing your soul to the trickster would end well for you.

“My soul mark was supposed to determine who I am to marry. And I cannot find them. I suppose I did not realize how right you were that night when you said I shouldn’t be surprised someone like me would not find their soulmate.”

His chest ached at the sentiment, regret stinging like a blow. He hadn’t thought about your little exchange since that night, didn’t think you would have remembered. Despite the enjoyment he derived from teasing and baiting you, he had never intended to cause you any actual harm.

“I suppose I should consider myself lucky, then,” he said quietly.

There was not much in the Nine Realms that could make his heart race, but this rare moment of vulnerability was enough to send his pulse pounding in his ears.

You looked up at him, clearly confused by the earnest tone in his voice.

“If I am to inherit the throne, I will require a wife. And I suppose you will do,” he deadpanned. You couldn’t help the laugh that burst from your chest, your previous distress completely forgotten.

To his utter confusion, Loki couldn't help but feel his heart soar at the sound of your laughter echoing through the guest chambers.

“I suppose I could do a lot worse for myself than a prince,” you conceded, looking down at your hands folded in your lap. “I just can’t help but feel like I’ve disappointed my parents.”

He nearly laughed aloud at the statement. From his perspective, there was no bigger disappointment than himself.

I could tell her, he thought to himself.

Surely there was no use hiding his soul mark any longer. If you were to be wed, you would discover the truth eventually.

“If that were true, my lady, you would be in good company,” he said quietly, heart beginning to race at the prospect of revealing his long kept secret. Your brow furrowed as you looked up at him in confusion.

“How do you figure?”

A moment of hesitation before his fingers made their way to the collar of his tunic, tentatively pulling the deep green fabric away from his collarbone to expose the thin lettering looping across his pale skin.

The deafening silence rang in his ears as he waited for you to react in some capacity, unsure of what you would say. After a few heartbeats had passed, you cautiously raised your hand to run your fingers over his skin.

…but it was love eventually.

“I thought you didn’t receive a soul mark,” you mumbled, transfixed by the ink.

He sighed softly, unsure if you would understand his quandary with the idea of fated mates.

“I merely… kept the occurrence private. Too many fawning suitors… you understand,” he replied sheepishly, fighting the blush that was making its way across his cheeks. An exasperated laugh escaped your lips, Loki’s revelation easing your prior distress.

“I see… I supposed we are more alike than I thought, my prince,” you sighed, looking down at your hands clasped in your lap.

A moment of silence passed before he gently took your hands in his, your eyes snapping up to meet his blue ones. You felt your heart begin to race at the contact, surprising yourself with the reaction.

"My lady..." he trailed off, letting hesitation get the better of him for a moment. His gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second.

"Yes, Loki?"

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper as he began to close the gap between your lips.

"And if I don't want you to?" you muttered breathlessly.

A mischievous smirk flashes across his face before his lips claimed yours, your eyes closing as you surrendered control over to him. His hands slid up your body to cup your face, pulling you closer as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. You gasped slightly into his mouth, your stomach erupting with butterflies.

What are we doing? you thought silently to yourself. Can a lifetime of annoyance and irritation be erased by a single intimate moment?

You trailed a hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, sliding your fingers into his hair. You tighten your grip on his raven curls, eliciting a slight groan from the god. Liquid heat began to pool at your center.

Yes it can, you decided.

Loki's tongue trailed the length of your bottom lip in a silent question, his hands dropping to your hips. You granted him access, fighting back a moan as he effortlessly shifted your body onto his lap. Straddling his hips, you pressed your chest against his as his lips made their way across your jaw and down your neck.

His hands found the laces of your corset and he pulled away slightly, looking up at you for permission. You nodded eagerly, catching his lips in another kiss as he skillfully unlaced the constricting garment before pulling it over your head along with your gown.

You became acutely aware of Loki's state of overdress, his tunic remaining in place while you were left in only your thin cotton shift. Without saying a word, you began working on the buttons on the emerald green fabric, exposing his pale chest.

His hands slowly slid up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your shift up dangerously high before settling on your hips. You pushed his tunic back over his shoulders, leaving him shirtless before you. You paused, taking a moment to appreciate his bare upper body. Your eyes made their way down from his collarbones to his stomach, admiring the lean muscle and V-lines leading lower and lower.

He broke you out of your reverie by grabbing the bottom of your shift, pulling it over your head. You let him do so, too lost in the feeling of his body under yours to care about being exposed to him.

You made to lean back down to kiss him when you noticed that his gaze was glued to the spot on your ribcage where you knew your soul mark was located. A shiver raced down your spine as Loki gently traced over it with his fingertips.

"It wasn't love at first sight..." he read aloud, his dark brow furrowed.

"...but it was love eventually," you finished for him, eyes wide in realization. He stared up at you silently, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

"Does the god of mischief have nothing to say?" you asked quietly, attempting to break the tension and settle your nerves.

"Well, my lady, it's not every day that a god finds his soulmate," he replied before pulling your face down to kiss him. He hooked his hands under your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips and he stands and walks you over to the guest bed.

You smiled into his mouth as he gently lowered you onto the plush duvet. You slid your hands down his torso to his belt, clumsily undoing the buckle before starting on the button of his pants. He chuckled in your kiss and slid out of the remainder of his clothing, pressing himself against your body.

A moan escaped you at the feeling of his hot erection pressing against your inner thigh. You arched your back, pressing your bare chest into his and relishing in the friction of his skin against yours.

Loki trailed his lips down your chest, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth. You involuntarily ground yourself against him as his tongue made slow circles around the sensitive skin, soft sighs leaving your lips.

"Loki," you whined desperately, rubbing your wet heat against his thigh.

"I'm here, darling," he mumbled against your skin, "tell me what you need."

"I need you."

"Where do you need me?"

He smiled up at you as he lowered himself between your thighs, his breath on your heat making you clench around nothing. You slipped a hand to the back of his head, trying to push his mouth down to grant you the relief you needed.

"Ah ah, darling. Say it for me."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, slightly irritated with the prince.

"I need you to make me cum, Loki," you admitted, lifting your hips slightly off the mattress in an attempt to make contact. He firmly pressed you back down, a smug look on his gorgeous face.

"Patience, my love," he mumbled, pressing hot, openmouthed kisses to your thighs. He continued his ministrations until he reached your soaked center. Your jaw fell open as his tongue licked a fat stripe over your clit, spreading your wetness across the sensitive apex.

"Oh fuck..." you gasped, your hands shooting down to the back of his head and threading your fingers through his hair. His wrapped around your thighs, pulling you closer as his tongue teased your entrance. Letting go of your left thigh, he trailed his hand down to where his mouth met your body, sliding two fingers through your folds.

His tongue made tight circles over your clit as he slipped his digits inside, giving you a few seconds to adjust before slowly pumping them in and out. You gripped the sheets, clenching your thighs around his head as the pressure in your abdomen began to build.

"Loki!" you keened, back arching once again.

He groaned into your cunt, too lost in the pleasure he was giving you to provide a real reply. The vibrations of his voice on your core sent you over the edge, undulating your hips into his face. He continued to make quick, punishing circles on your clit, helping you ride it out as your core clenched around his fingers.

You panted, letting your thighs fall limp to either side of Loki's head. He stood, taking his place on top of you. He gently brushed your hair from your eyes before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, the taste of your own slick invading your mouth.

Before the kiss could develop into anything more, a knock at the door startled both of you.

"Darling?" your mother's muffled voice came through the locked door.

Your heart lurched, panic quickly setting in. Loki jumped up from the bed, scrambling to dress himself.

"Yes?" you shouted back, scooping your discarded shift off the floor and hastily throwing it on. You grabbed your dressing robe from a hook near the vanity and swiftly wrapped it around you, tying the knot as glanced over your shoulder to tell Loki to hide in your bathroom but was nowhere in sight.

He had completely vanished.

Your mother knocked on your door, pulling you from your thoughts. Undoing the lock, you opened it to see both of your parents standing excitedly in the hallway.

"Yes, what is it?" you asked, trying to smooth your sex-mussed hair down.

"We have a family matter to discuss and we wanted to- dear, are you alright? You look flushed," your mother interrupted herself, pressing the back of a hand to your forehead. You gently brushed her off, fighting the blush rising to your cheeks.

"Yes, I'm fine!" you replied a tad too eagerly. "What is it, what's the matter?"

Your parents shared a suspicious look before your father spoke.

"We have something to discuss. Family meeting in our chambers in fifteen minutes?" he asked plainly.

“Yes, just give me a moment to ah… freshen myself up,” you stuttered. Your mother smiled at you before turning to leave, your father following suit. You closed your door quietly, letting yourself fall back against it and pressing a hand to your face in embarrassment.

You gathered your composer and began making your way to the vanity to assess the state of your hair. As you turned, Loki’s towering figure appeared directly in front of you, causing you to yelp in fear. You lightly slapped his chest as he placed his hands on your hips

“Don’t do that!” you scolded him before allowing him to draw you into a kiss.

“You know you always enjoyed my little tricks, darling,” he replied, leading you back to the bed.

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gyuswhore · 1 year ago

Text

Never Shall We Die (1)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

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

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground.

No, that’s a branch.

Or is it a plank?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. You have one more option.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait with baited breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi.

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

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

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

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

This was bad. Very bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

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

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

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

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all.

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

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

If it’s his ship that he wants…

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

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

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

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

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

“I can help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

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

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

Is he about to cut your hands off?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

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

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

“I’ll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he was considering it.

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I led you astray?”

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

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

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost?” he questions.

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

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain! One of the—oh.”

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

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just saved his life.

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

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“Not even an inkling?”

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you shake him off last time?”

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

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

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

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

“Portwater?”

“Too far.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something you wanted from him.

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

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

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

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

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

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

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

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

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

A kid. He was a child.

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you pulled the trigger.

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

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

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

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

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

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasry. Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused.

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten coin.”

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

“I’ll do seven!”

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

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer.

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

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

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

You remain silent.

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

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

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

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

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

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

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

“You’ve looked into my eyes?”

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

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

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

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

You just pushed Chan overboard.

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

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

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

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

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

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

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

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

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

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

Hoshi pushed him into the water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me what? you grind.

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

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise.

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

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

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rinxiaa · 3 months ago

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── .✦ ❝ BETTER THAN HE DOES❞

⟡ You and Reo were enemies. Until he discovered your vulnerable state about someone. But you also discovered something about him.

Warnings: implied fem reader, reader has an ex (not reo!), (name) mention once

The party was booming loudly with laughter and glasses clanking together. And here you were, in a corner holding a glass of wine that you're supposed to drink happily. Until your lover.. at least now, your ex, broke up with you with a paragraph in chat.

The audacity of this man to even break up with you from a text.

You took a big sip from your wine, the barista asking if you were okay. That took you off your phone. And you just said 'yes' hesitantly. This whole thing was getting too much focus from you. You stood up, leaving your drink and decided to cool off your head outside.

You were sitting around in the garden of your home cooling your head, taking a breath. Tears want to come out of your eyes, but they won't. As if you wanna scream all the pain out, describe the pain with words while holding something or someone.

You were just, hazily staring at the distance, thinking about the breakup. You didnt even answer him, you just blocked him already in anger. It makes you wonder why you were with him in the first place. Maybe you were too devoted to him.

Tears were starting to flood in your eyes, until a hand to your shoulder was there.

You slightly flinch, taking your focus off there and look back to the hand that which flinched away to you as well.

"Reo!.."

From the Mikage Corporation. aka also the frienemy-business of your parents. So practically that make you two also enemies! rivals, actually.

"Was walking around the garden, then i saw a girl who got 98.7 on the chemistry test. Thought i might rub my 99.3 on the test." He said emphasizing the last words.

"Ha. Ha. Shouldn't you brag your 99.3 score inside the party?"

"I should ask you the same thing. This is your parents party. And you, the host's daughter is out here." Reo sat down beside you with a puff. Crossing his arms and pouting.

"I just.. needed a time to breath." You hold your cold hands to warm them. It seems like they turned cold when you saw your ex's stupid paragraph.

Reo then looked at you with a slight concern, realizing it was actually a bad time to brag.

"Is something wrong?" Reo asks with a concerned look.

"Why are you asking? Its nothing anyways."

"Nothing. Just concerned. Plus, from the looks of it, it doesn't look nothing. You look tired and in pain like crazy."

You then look at Reo because of words. "Do i really look hurt right now?"

"Well, yeah. Maybe because you are. Do.. you mind telling me why you are?"

You didn't know what happened next. All you were thinking about was your feelings. To you, right now. Only your feelings matter. Cause, damn, you look, sound and feel fucked up right now. All of some boy. Tears flooded your eyes again and this time, you held no hesitation of even hiding your tears nor stopping them. You didn't try to keep quiet as well. If you could, you would, though.

Reo then went closer and lean closer to you, putting a hand on your back and rubbing it while he hands you a handkerchief. You couldn't skip the fact, he was actually kind of acting like a gentleman right now. —Anyway, the handkerchief that Reo handed to you, you used it to cover your mouth and nose. It took you quite awhile to cry all your feelings out. At the same time you were spouting, 'i hate him' or 'where did i go wrong' or 'im so so tired' and much more, and he got more concerned.

Soon, your crying was slowly starting to soften, you trying to wipe your tears as Reo gave you a moment of silence before asking for some context.

Now that you did, Reo thinks it was the perfect time to ask. "May i.. ask? What exactly happened and who is this 'him'?"

You were still slightly choking at your words but you answered Reo easily. "I-.. He's my ex.." you said, sniffling a bit. Reo knew you had a boyfriend. Yet theres still a feeling inside the boy's heart that he was actually was happy. You finally got rid of that sickening view of a man. He did not like him one bit.

"Oh.. What happened?" And again, you didn't know what you we're spouting at this point. Tears flowing down, as you give an explanation to this purple haired gentleman. "His stupid ass is what happened! Not only did he just break up with me through text. He was also cheating on me! A classmate of mine told me, and then when i asked him about it, he said sorry and asked for another chance, so i gave him one and then he broke up with me through text and said he cheated again!" You spoke to him with a fast pace. Gladly, Reo was able to catch up with the words you were spouting.

He was still rubbing your back, and you were still holding the handkerchief he gave you. You wiped your tears again, your makeup then looking all smudgy and messy.

"Whats wrong with me?.. What am i missing?” Iyou ask yourself.

Reo cannot avoid the fact that he liked what you looked right now. What he was viewing is him, holding you and a scenery of your face looking all messy. Lipstick smudged, the mascara under your eyes looking messy. The man then wiped the messy mascara on your eyes so you can have a clear view. You were still having a few hiccups from crying and then, Reo's fingers were a bit stained from your mascara.

"You deserve better." He mentioned, still looking at you, never taking off eye contact.

"People always say that. When i do find someone better, it’s still not enough."

"I want someone who can treat me like i deserve it. Shit- does that sound selfish?.."

Reo laughed at your statement. "Not when you look like this right now."

The purple haired man then cleared his throat. "Y'know.. if you really want someone who can treat you like that. I know a little someone.."

"Well, unless if your not gonna make him a rebound, you know.." Reo said.

You looked at him in disbelief "You think i'd still be so hooked up with that jerk to treat my new boyfriend like a rebound?"

“Tell me about him and tell him i need a bit more time to recover. I don't want him to rush things." You added, with your eyebrows furrying, and creating a few distance away from him.

"You don't need to tell him that." Reo answered and you look at him with a slight confusion.

"Then i don't want him to be my boyfriend if he will rush things." You crossed arms and leaned behind you, laying on the bench you sat on.

"Don't worry, I won't rush things with you." Reo answered.

sniff “That’ll be grea–“ You paused.

You tried to remember his words. I won't rush things? Why would he? Is he gonna force the guy to not rush things with you? No, he wouldn't do that. But.. huh?

The sound of laughter broke you to your thoughts and you slowly went to realization.

He is the little someone.

"What? Wait!- WHAT?" You were in a pool of jumbled words. You didn't know what to say. Reo Mikage?

You've always wondered why girls would want to go dates on him. Wait no, in fact you do know why. They only want the infamous Reo Mikage for his money and luxury. It was all to obvious. But at the same time, he's not really a.. boyfriend material. I mean, all he does, is play football, and be smart, and be kind and sweet, and be thoughtful and be funny and-

Now you see, what those girls see. Except, you see more to him than luxury.

"I like you, (name). Fuck- I think i even adore you because I've been waiting for too long to even say these type of words to you. Your exactly what i want. If anything, i want to be what you also desire."

At this point, your tears we’re already dried up, only a mess of your mascara as you try to process that this man basically confessed. “Is this a joke?”

Stupid.

How can you basically say that? He sounded genuine as if the rivalry that you two have was actually just romantic tension.

“..–No, I want to take this, seriously..” He answers putting a hand on his head as he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry, this is all too sudden, —it’s not that i’m rejecting you but please give me time. I will consider.. this.” Your own head was still trying to make up words on what to answer when you’re still processing his words.

A hand on your hair glided, as he fixes your hair, wipes your tears and kissed your temple. “There won’t be much time to think by the time the night ends. Just make sure your night ends with me.” He was still holding your face gently after he kissed you on your temple.

Although his cheeks had visible pink tint on it, no hint on his eyes we’re the least embarassed. Infact, he was smiling and all-giddy just because he got to hold your face like this and you looking up to him like that.

“Let’s go back inside, i can’t let that jerk ruin your night.” And, —well, let’s just say Mikage Reo is a man of his word.

Haha hi guys.. im back.. and will disappear again……

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #mikage reo #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #reo #vynwrites

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cryinggirlnamedhelen · 3 months ago

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1. Too many beds - Nagi, he’s 100% just going to go to the nearest bed and fall asleep nearly instantly.

2. Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss - Reo, who else could this possibly be? I can see him in a yakuza AU.

3. Really nice guy who hates only you - Yukimiya, this could definitely be from some misunderstanding.

4. Academic rivals except its two teachers - Karasu, idc he will ALWAYS have academic rivals in any AU

5. Divorce of convenience - Aiku, two lovers who were once married but then got divorced satisfactorily.

6. Too much communication - Shidou, who says some pretty socially unacceptable thing unknowingly.

7. True hate’s kiss - Sae, who you’ve hated since day one. But then you were forced to kiss him…

8. Dating your enemy’s sibling - Either of the Itoshi brothers would make a shit lot of sense.

9. Lovers to enemies - Otoya, who, without guarantee, cheated on you. (Yes, I’m an Otoya hater)

10. Hate at first sight - Otoya and Aiku, where your first meeting with (either one of) them is them cheating on their girlfriend.

11. Love triangle where the love interests get together - Chigiri, where you’ve both been going after the same girl.

12. Fake amnesia - Kaiser, where you think he’s toxic asf, gets into a car accident, and pretends to have amnesia to fix him.

13. Soulmates who are fated to kill each other - Ness, who has unfortunately always believed in soulmates.

14. Strangers to enemies - Rin, who you have an awkward first meeting with, where he was in a bad mood and insulted you.

15. Faking dating but actually are dating - Ness, who everyone thinks is just a guy who has a crush on you. Little do they know that you’re both actually dating.

16. Too hot to cuddle - Barou, I don’t really know the context of this one, but it sounds like a Barou type situation.

17. Himbo/Bimbo love interest - Bachira, he’s so lacking in common sense, it’s actually adorable.

18. Nursing home - Chigiri, in an AU when he tears his ACL during the World Cup permanently.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you

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softsunnyy · 3 months ago

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Jack misunderstood your closeness to one of your friends after overhearing a conversation. This led him to make decisions that hurt both of you.

it was then that your friends decided to make a plan… one that can go very well or really bad.

🚨 angst, fluff, it was supposed to be enemies to lovers, but i got distracted and ended up writing a loser and jealous Jack. Trevor is a flirty mf. Luke is a bit of an enemy. Really poor ending. No use of yn 🚨

while writing this i came up with a super smutty alternate ending, so let me know if you want that one too.

when Jack woke up that morning, he knew from the start that the day would be chaotic, as the first thing he heard was his friends' voices from the living room, along with his brothers' voices and some music in the background. Still, he mentally prepared himself, showered, dressed, and went to see them.

what he didn't expect was the scene he found.

sure, he knew you were coming; Luke told him, and even warned him to behave. But this? Since when did you become so close to his friends? Cole doesn't seem to want to leave your side, like a child clinging to its mother. And you're laughing too loudly for his liking at whatever Trevor and Alex are telling you.

what's going on? this didn't used to be like this the last time he saw you.

Quinn stood beside him, smiling amusedly, and Jack hates the way Quinn seems to know something he doesn't.

"what?" he asks, defensively, to which his brother just nudges him.

“nothing, why that face? i thought Luke told you she was coming.” He asked, in a tone that only shows how entertained he is.

"yeah, well, i didn't know i'd have to see her so close to my friends all these days too," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

and see, it's not that Jack was a piece of shit, or a terrible friend. In fact, you two used to get along pretty well. But his problem is still fairly recent, and he was hoping to have a couple of quiet, normal days, enjoying himself with his friends, and trying to stay as far away from you as possible.

and that must sound pretty dramatic, so for some context, when Luke started telling them about his new friend, they knew right away she´s a good girl, someone who would fit in with their environment. But Luke was clear about one thing, and that was that he didn't want to see Jack flirting with her, and much less breaking her heart.

"please" he said.

and he agreed not to look at you any other way, but when he first met you, he knew it would be a difficult task because you're beautiful, and that combined with how nice you are made everything much harder for him.

and can you blame the man?

when you two talked, it was like a connection. It was easy. And then you kept talking and talking, and Jack felt like he was in heaven every time you stopped talking to everyone else to look at him, to include him in a conversation or start a new one.

and the days passed, and it felt right.

it was almost ridiculous, the way his eyes always found you, and he couldn't stop looking at you, even if you were in the most crowded place.

and the first time he made you laugh? god, he knew he wanted to do it all the time because he loved the feeling of pure happiness that came from seeing you laugh so hard at something he said.

it wasn't even about asking you out, flirting, or getting you into his bed. He wanted to talk to you all the time. He wanted you to see him as a cool guy, to feel the same way.

but that all went down the drain when he accidentally overheard a conversation you were having with his brother. You were talking to him about a boy, and you spoke with such energy and emotion that a part of him wished you were talking about him.

and he got excited, he believed there was a possibility.

but the next day he saw you, talking too much to Ethan, barely even looking at him, as if he no longer existed to you. And he felt weird, of course, but he tried to ignore it.

the thing is… this kept happening. For days, your attention was on Ethan, and the conversations between the two of you started to disappear. He could only watch from afar.

a lot of doubts began to settle in his head, obviously. Doubts that kept him awake until late at night, creating insecurities that weren't usually there before.

god, why were you looking at him?

is it his hair? is he more fun? more attractive?

what do you expect him to do?

this began to create a feeling inside him that he didn't like.

the constant fatigue, the emptiness in his stomach, the anxiety that turned into anger.

you were supposed to be looking at him, Jack.

and he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to intervene, interrupt the conversations, talk to you more often. Remind you that he's still there. But a part of him remembers Luke's words, and the conversation he overheard you two having.

is it too late? you were talking about Ethan this whole time?

he felt like an idiot, like a loser, and that's something he's never been used to. He always fights for what he wants, to be the best, to achieve everything. But now he feels like he can't do anything anymore, that he arrived too late.

that made him feel bad, angry. Not with you, but with himself, for letting Luke's words get to his head and keep him from being himself and doing what he does best. And i don't mean playing with you, but at least making his intentions clear from the start, so you don't see someone else. So you see him.

and for the first time, he gave up, decided to distance himself. Because god, it was incredibly hard to look at you and not feel the need to hold your hand, kiss you, and do whatever he wanted for so long.

every time he looks at you there's that thought, that doubt, the "what if…?", and he can't stand it.

he needs you and can't have you.

so now he's being a jerk, or at least he knows that's what everyone thinks. Including you, probably. But he prefers it this way, because he'd rather keep you away than continue hurting himself, even if it means losing everything you two had built.

now, everyone's asked. Luke, Quinn, his friends, even his parents. And he knows you're dying to know, but he just lies, shrugs, and looks away. He tries to go back to the usual Jack, but without speaking to you, and it feels so impossible.

but he prefers that to telling the truth, to telling everyone about how he feels like a loser, about how his heart and pride have been hurt by someone who may never have looked at him any differently.

he just can't do it.

it was another of your laughs that brought him out of his head. He didn't even listen to what Quinn was saying, just giving you one last look before leaving, passing by his brother and heading into the kitchen. Maybe eating something would make him feel better, or make the emptiness in his stomach go away.

although he knows it doesn't work that way. But how can he have a good time if he's not around you?

and you, oh you, you saw him immediately when he appeared in the room, feeling nervous, intimidated, and even guilty. Cole's head resting on your shoulder and his friends telling you stories that made you laugh.

you saw his expression, and you knew it was because of you, because you were even more involved in his life than before, and you wanted to run, to hide, because you didn't want him to get mad at you anymore.

and you hate it, you hate how even though you should be angry at him, and hate him for how he's made you feel, your heart still races at the sight of him, and your eyes search for him everywhere he goes. Your feet itch, wanting to walk over to him. Your fingers ache from clenching them in your palms, holding back the urge to hug him.

and it hurts, because you remember everything, because doubts return to your mind, and hope hurts and turns into a constant emptiness in your chest.

you never understood why, why he walked away, why out of nowhere he seems to hate your existence. And you tried to talk to him a thousand times, but he always manages to escape, to ignore you.

god, he can't even look at you.

and it hurts even more because you're still so in love with him, and whatever you did had you crying for nights on end, curled up in your bed while you were on the phone with Luke, asking him why.

whatever you did almost made you distance yourself from your friends because you were so upset. Everyone told you that he was in love with you, and that you'd look beautiful together, only for Jack to do this??

you even cried the night before, and you called Luke, telling him you regretted going, that you couldn't do it.

he convinced you, talked to you for almost two hours about why you should go. But all that went down the drain the second you saw him.

still, Trevor noticed, so he started telling you another story, something about how Dylan fell that morning when they were almost on their way to pick you up. That made you laugh a little, which lightened the mood a bit again.

you're grateful to have them, even with all this, because even when you got angry, they've been there for you, worrying about every detail, apologizing on Jack's behalf, trying to make you feel better, and getting closer to you so you wouldn't feel alone.

what you didn't know, though, is that they had a lot of time to talk all these weeks, trying to come to conclusions about why all this is happening, and they sort of came up with something.

now, they wanted to make a plan, and that wasn't easy, because let's be honest, we're talking about your friends, who with eleven heads don't make one, and who are looking for some… extreme solutions.

they thought about locking you two in a room, cornering Jack and forcing him to confess, intervening in very invasive ways, until they thought about... what seemed like the ideal solution.

pushing Jack to the limit.

now, what do i mean by this? well, they spent a good amount of time thinking about their theory, on how Jack probably feels rejected, or locked into the idea that you don't reciprocate his feelings, so they decided to push him to his limit, to the point where he has to confess to be at peace.

they know it's not the best option, and that besides being immature, it's also dangerous, because they know how their friend gets. But it's either that or wait for years until Jack moves on and is just a grumpy old man, without his girl and angry at all of them.

so Trevor offered to be the main enemy, because he knows he can do it, although the others also gonna collaborate, like Cole, who hasn't left your side since you entered that house, or Quinn, who will be in charge of bothering Jack every time he notices his gaze on you.

still, they have to be careful, because the idea is that you don't get suspicious, because they know that you will feel upset and embarrassed, and all the effort to make you not sad will go down the drain.

and so they spend the next few days, looking for every opportunity to be a little more affectionate, more attentive, more touchy. And you don't think anything of it at first, not too much anyway, because you think they're just trying to take care of you, since they do that every time Jack's around. But as time goes on… it starts to feel strange, a little overwhelming. Especially Trevor, who's already flirty, but now he's flirting a lot more often.

and oh Jack, he knows you're there, and he tries not to look at you, but when he hears Trevor call you, he can't help but stare, and his jaw clenches when he hears him call you pretty, or when he uses the stupid lines he's heard him use with other girls in bars in the past. And he sees the way you look at him in confusion, like you don't understand why he's flirting with you, or why he's suddenly acting like this and that makes him mad.

but he's also confused, and it gets worse with each passing day.

weren't you with Ethan? why doesn't Ethan seem affected by the way they talk to you and touch you?

what's going on?

and even though he doesn't understand, he feels furious, jealous, because he would love to be the one who makes you laugh and blush, or the one who hugs you, the one who accompanies you everywhere.

but he can't do it, so he has to hold back his urges, becoming grumpier and grumpier with each passing second. And at first, you could tell by how incredibly competitive he became with basic games, even aggressive just to win, so you could see he's better. But now? Oh, he feels like he can't even move without walking up to one of his best friends and punching them in the face.

he wants to grab you by the waist and get out of there, or kiss you, or just show them that he'd be better for you, and this spiral of thoughts is driving him crazy.

he can't even see normal conversations as normal anymore. He's obsessive, and he feels like they're flirting with you all the time.

and you? you feel more and more overwhelmed, and you don't understand what's happening, and for some reason, everyone seems to be on edge, tense, searching for something. And it seems like any minute Trevor and Jack will jump at each other's throats, or start barking at each other about something you don't know.

and it's a particular day when everything explodes, when everything seems to reach its climax.

you'd been scrolling through tiktoks all day until you came across a trend. It was innocent, funny, and you wanted to see how your friends would react to it, so you decided to try it.

you looked around until you found your first victim, Trevor.

"hey, Trev", he looked at you, smiling immediately and walking up to you. At the same time, another pair of eyes began to observe.

"yeah?"

"would you lend me 20 bucks?" you asked, smiling and blinking, trying to look innocent, even though you wanted to laugh, knowing your friend would question you and you wouldn't be able to hold back.

"of course," he answered immediately, which surprised you a little. He was still smiling.

"and 50?"

“whatever you ask of me.” for a moment you saw him glance behind you, but you were more focused on trying to think about what he was saying, trying to figure out if he was serious.

“wait, really?”

“sure, anything for you,” he said, which made you smile, satisfied with the answer.

it was then that you heard the backyard door slam shut, making you jump. The smile on Trevor's face grew even wider, and you began to wonder.

"what was that?" you asked, this time with a serious expression on your face.

however, you didn't stop to hear his answer and decided to follow your instincts, walking to the door and going outside.

Jack was sitting outside, staring at his hands, which were shaking a little.

he heard you and saw you out of the corner of his eye, so he decided to get up, ready to go back inside and not be in the same place as you.

that hurt you, but you weren't going to let him leave, not again, so you stood in front of the door.

he stood in front of you, staring at the floor and sighing heavily.

"please…"

“Jack, do you have a problem with me?” you asked directly, accidentally interrupting him.

the question made his stomach hurt, and you couldn't deny it, you felt like throwing up.

“should i?” he replied, trying to sound defensive, though failing miserably.

“you don't talk to me anymore, and i don't even know what i did.” You said, in a tone that showed exasperation, discontent. You need answers, and it's time for him to give them to you.

he sensed it, so he looked up. The impact was on both of you, because now all he wants to do is kneel and beg for your forgiveness, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest and his hands shaking unstoppably.

he'd never felt so out of control over his body and emotions, but just looking at you was enough to shatter his world and the mask he'd created for his broken heart.

and you? you felt like you could cry again. You'd missed seeing him so close, his voice toward you. God, you'd barely heard his voice these past few days, and you missed him so much.

“you didn't do anything” his voice was so soft and low that you were grateful to be close enough to hear him.

"bullshit, there has to be something" you said, a little more desperate "There has to be a reason for you to hate me." He shook his head, shocked and almost offended.

“i don't hate you, i've never hated you.”

“so what is it, Jack?” you asked, desperate "please... just tell me"

"i thought we were going to have something, and when i heard you talking to Luke… i thought you were talking about me" you tried to remember, but he kept talking "but i was wrong, and then you and Ethan…" he laughed without grace, looking back at the floor "i felt like an idiot”

“wait, Ethan? what are you talking about?” you were more than confused at the mention of your friend.

“you two started getting too close, you weren't even talking to me and..." you finally understood what he meant, and you had to clarify it now, so you interrupted him.

"no, Jack, this is where i stop you. I never had anything with him. I did spend more time with him, but it's because he had to get home before everyone else, so i wanted to take advantage of the time i had with my friend" You sighed, frustrated to know that this is part of why "i never, ever noticed you were feeling this way, and i´m really sorry"

there were a couple of seconds of silence, where you gave him space to process the information and think of a response. However, during the silence, you needed to let go of what you'd been holding in for so long.

"you need to know… that i was talking to Luke about you," you confessed, to which he quickly looked at you, eyes wide, his heart about to explode. "I've liked you for a while now, but i couldn't get too close because you pushed me away."

and oh, he feels like an idiot.

he looks at you carefully, trying to see if you're being honest, and your eyes confirm it.

"i'm sorry, i'm really sorry. I´m so stupid." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. You wanted to tell him so many things, confess so many things, but you didn't know where to start. And he feels horrible, and wants so much to go back in time and make things right.

all the things you imagined experiencing together. All the times he wanted to kiss you, or you wanted to kiss him, sit on his lap and enjoy being his.

and you couldn't stand it anymore. You needed to do something, and all you could come up with was a quick, needy response.

"i'm assuming you feel the same," you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling nervous. You were going to say something impulsive, but you need to do it, you need to ask him for what you've been wanting for so long "So why don't you kiss me? we can figure this out later."

and you didn't need to tell him twice because he immediately joined his mouth on yours in a desperate, intense kiss. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to his body, while your arms wrapped around his neck.

there's still things to talk about, including the scene your friends made these past few days. But now? right now, Jack just wants to kiss you until it hurts, until you beg for some distance.

because he can't believe you're his. And now that you are, he won't let you go, he won't. He gave up once, he won't do it again.

#☀️💞#softsunnyy #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes angst #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jh86 x reader

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sallufix · 5 months ago

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Wait so... Is haunted breeza a shadowarcher au?? /Gen

(I swear Smilk was blushing in the Weirdly Windy mini comic)

P.s: I want to eat ur artstyle up

Well... It's kinda up to you! I know alot of people don't really like it or are uncomfortable with it in both canon and AU context so you can interpret them as enemies, lovers, relatives, or whatever you want (Just please not all at once dear god)

For the blush, it was merely the backround! I saw someone on twitter point it out too but it's just a coincidence ^^; Again, you can think whatever you want. If you want to see it as blush then its a win for you, if you dont like seeing it as that then you are also completely valid! byebyee

#ask #Haunted Breeze AU #I just want to put them in crazy situations. I like the dynamic #You can do alot with it!!! Therefore its only fair you guys have the freedom to see it as what you want

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honeyhaeya · 7 months ago

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🎮04 | Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse 🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, explicit language, petty arguments, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, mature themes, light suggestive content, jealousy/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, mild profanity, oblivious reader (she needs proof over everything and anything), competitive tension, angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. proceed with caution if any of these are sensitive topics for you! angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. reader is getting bullied by her co-workers ! smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex (jeonghan pounding into you real hard), lots of kissing, degradation (light. reader is a slut. period.), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (bashful of that word), oh and lots of kissing. (i honestly dk what to even add in here - lol i added somthing unrelated to smut SORRY its already edited tho) wc: 12,180 ♪ playlist ♪ : boyfriend (ariana grande with social house), never be the same (camilla cabello), teeth (5 seconds of summer), treat you better (shawn mendes). "you aint my boyfriend, and i aint your girlfriend, but you dont want me to see nobody else"-reader "i lose my mind when it comes to you"-wonwoo "i cant have what i want but neither can you"-jeonghan

You woke up on a bed, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the thick curtains. The surroundings were unfamiliar yet strangely recognizable. The high-ceilinged room, the marble tiles glistening faintly in the sun, and the faint scent of expensive cologne—there was no doubt. You were in Jeonghan's penthouse.

A sharp pang of confusion hit you as you sat up, brushing the stray strands of hair from your face. How the hell did you end up here? Memories from the night before crept in slowly, like fragments of a dream you weren't sure you'd actually had.

You'd barely had a sip of alcohol. In fact, you weren't drunk at all—just exhausted. The events of the party played back in pieces: you slumped over the kitchen counter, the cool granite pressing against your cheek as the distant thrum of music vibrated through the room. You remembered Seungcheol coming over to check on you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he muttered something about letting you rest. The memory blurred after that.

What you did remember was Wonwoo—quiet but present, seated across the room with a Nintendo Switch in his hands. He wasn't saying much, but you could feel his gaze flicker over to you every now and then, as if silently questioning why you'd passed out in such an uncomfortable spot. A small part of you wished he'd just told you to go home, but Seungcheol had intervened before anyone could. And that was when Jeonghan stepped in.

You could imagine his smooth, persuasive voice now: "I'll take her home. She's my responsibility." It was the kind of thing he'd say to justify anything, but you doubted it was really about responsibility. He didn't even know where you lived, and yet here you were, in his space, feeling even more out of place than you had at the party.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before standing up. The soft fabric of the oversized shirt you wore—clearly not your own—brushed against your legs as you padded across the room. It was early, but you still had time to get home, clean up, and make it to work. The thought of slipping out quietly tempted you, but you hesitated. It would feel rude not to at least thank him.

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out into the expansive hallway. Every detail of the penthouse screamed Jeonghan—elegant yet understated, expensive yet effortlessly casual. You followed the faint sound of movement, eventually stopping outside a door. Knocking lightly, you heard his voice from within.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside to find Jeonghan seated at his usual spot—where you often worked on his makeup during long workdays. He wasn't looking at you, his gaze fixed on his phone as he leaned back in the chair with an air of ease that irritated you more than it should have.

"Jeonghan... thanks for last night," you started, your tone stiff. "You didn't have to. You could've just taken me home."

He glanced up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I would have, but I don't know where you live."

Your brow furrowed at the simple reply. "You could've woken me up and asked."

"And disturb your beauty sleep? That's cruel, even for me," he replied smoothly, the teasing lilt in his voice grating on your nerves.

"Seriously," you pressed, crossing your arms over your chest, "I didn't ask for you to do any of that. But... thanks. I appreciate it."

For a moment, he didn't respond, his gaze flickering over you with an unreadable expression. Then, as if dismissing the sincerity of your words entirely, he spoke again. "What are you standing there for? Do my makeup."

Your jaw dropped slightly at the abrupt shift. "Excuse me?"

"You're here. Might as well make yourself useful." He gestured lazily toward the vanity table. "Or do you need me to remind you how to do your job?"

"I don't have my tools with me," you shot back, irritation bubbling to the surface.

Jeonghan's lips curved into a sly smile. "I have my own."

"You've been making me lug that heavy-ass kit around every day when you already had your own stuff?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. "You never asked. It's not my fault you're utterly stupid."

You glared at him, muttering under your breath, "Asshole."

"Careful," he warned lightly, his eyes glinting with amusement as you approached him. "You're in my house."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the nearest foundation and set to work. He tilted his face up toward you, a smug expression lingering on his features as you patted the product onto his skin. You couldn't resist pressing a little harder than necessary, earning a quiet grunt of annoyance from him.

"Is this your way of taking revenge?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You wish," you muttered, focusing on blending the foundation smoothly across his skin. Despite your irritation, your fingers moved with practiced ease, the routine familiar and oddly grounding.

But as you worked, you couldn't ignore the closeness—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his skin. It was distracting, and you hated that it affected you at all.

He noticed, of course. He always did. "You're quiet today," he remarked, his voice softer now, almost curious. "Something on your mind?"

"Nothing," you replied quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Just tired."

"Hmm," he murmured, but his tone suggested he didn't believe you. "You should take better care of yourself. Passing out at parties isn't a good look."

"And ending up at your boss's house is?" you shot back, finally meeting his eyes.

He smiled—a slow, infuriating smile that made your stomach twist in ways you didn't want to acknowledge. "Touché."

The whole day at work dragged on like a slow, suffocating punishment. You had done absolutely nothing but sit in the studio, pretending to relax while doing the exact opposite. Jeonghan, in his infinite wisdom, had told you to "take a break" for the day. The catch? He didn't let you rest at home, where you might've actually managed to unwind. Instead, he insisted you stay here at work, throwing out some half-assed excuse about needing you nearby in case something came up.

If he really cared about your well-being, you thought bitterly, why didn't he just let you leave? Not that you were complaining—well, not out loud. But sitting back and watching models pose endlessly under bright studio lights was far from relaxing. You were bored to death, practically counting down the minutes as you perched on a spare chair in the corner of the room. Jeonghan, true to form, was nowhere to be seen—off handling something important, apparently.

It was disorienting, not being at his beck and call for once. Usually, he had you running across the city, juggling tasks that no other assistant would tolerate without raising hell. This strange lull felt wrong, as though he were deliberately giving you time to stew in your thoughts. And if Jeonghan had one talent, it was knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

Your coworkers, of course, had their own interpretations of the situation. You could feel their glances from across the studio, hear the faint whispers that stopped the moment you walked by.

"She's getting special treatment from Jeonghan, huh?" one of them muttered, not bothering to keep her voice low enough.

"Must be nice to sleep your way into perks," someone else added, followed by a chuckle that made your stomach twist.

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms, but you didn't say a word. Let them talk. It wasn't worth your energy to correct them. They didn't know what they were saying—didn't know the difference between what they assumed and what had actually happened.

Yes, you'd slept at Jeonghan's house. But that didn't mean what they thought it did. It wasn't like anything had happened. And as for "extra treatment"? If they thought this endless game of mental gymnastics Jeonghan put you through was some kind of reward, you'd happily trade places with them. Let them walk a mile in your shoes. Let them see how long they lasted before they begged for mercy.

Still, their words lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You hated how easily they got under your skin, how much you cared about what people thought—even when you knew better. But what frustrated you even more was the fact that Jeonghan knew this would happen. He had to. And yet, here you were, sitting through this ridiculous excuse for "rest," waiting for him to pull another trick out of his sleeve.

By the time the lunch break rolled around, you were practically seething in your chair. You didn't even realize Jeonghan had walked into the studio until he was standing right in front of you, arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Enjoying your break?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You glared up at him, too tired and too annoyed to play along. "If this is your idea of rest, you seriously need to reevaluate your understanding of the word."

Jeonghan chuckled, unbothered as always. "You're sitting down, aren't you? Looks like rest to me."

"Yeah, sitting down and listening to people talk shit about me. Real relaxing," you shot back, crossing your arms.

His smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by something more thoughtful. "What are they saying?"

"Nothing I haven't heard before," you muttered, looking away. "Doesn't matter."

Jeonghan crouched slightly so he was at eye level with you, his sharp gaze boring into yours. "If it doesn't matter, why do you look like you're about to rip someone's head off?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. He always did this—pulled the words out of you before you even realized they were there.

Finally, you sighed. "Why didn't you just let me go home? I could've actually rested instead of sitting here like some kind of zoo exhibit."

Jeonghan tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Because if you went home, you'd overthink everything until you gave yourself a headache."

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his answer. "What?"

He straightened up, his usual smirk returning as if he hadn't just said something that completely threw you off balance. "You heard me. Now, come on. We're grabbing lunch."

"What?" you repeated, more sharply this time. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He turned on his heel, already heading toward the door. "Hurry up. I don't have all day."

You stared after him, half tempted to stay put out of sheer spite. But then, against your better judgment, you got up and followed.

Because as much as you hated to admit it, he was right.

As you trailed behind Jeonghan, the murmurs from your co-workers grew louder, their snide remarks almost taunting.

"See? Told you she has a special something." "She's shameless. I bet she got the job because she slept her way through connections."

The venom in their voices stung, but you swallowed your anger. It wasn't worth it—not now. Jeonghan was already a few paces ahead, his long strides creating an effortless distance, his posture calm as ever. You envied how he seemed untouched by the chaos he often left in his wake.

For a moment, you hesitated. Turning around to confront them burned like an itch you couldn't quite scratch. But as your fists clenched at your sides, someone else beat you to it.

"Back to work." The sharp voice of the head photographer cut through the chatter like a whip. All eyes snapped to her. "You guys are so shameless. I bet you two have never even slept with anyone, let alone earned your positions fairly."

The room went silent, save for the muffled clicks of a nearby camera shutter. You turned your head slightly, catching the woman's commanding glare as she stood tall, exuding the kind of confidence you wished you could summon in moments like these.

You'd always known her as strict and sharp, but fair—qualities that had earned her respect among the staff. She didn't spare the offenders another glance, her focus already back on the set. Her words, though brief, felt like a lifeline, pulling you from drowning in humiliation.

Relief spread through your chest, and before you turned to follow Jeonghan, you gave her a small, grateful smile. She didn't acknowledge it, but something about the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax.

Jeonghan was already a good distance ahead, his pace unrelenting. You had to half-jog to catch up. When you finally reached him, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable.

"You look like you ran a marathon," he remarked, his tone as light as always. "Are you that desperate to keep up with me?"

You huffed, falling into step beside him. "Maybe if you walked like a normal human being, I wouldn't have to."

He smirked, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. "Or maybe I just enjoy watching you struggle."

You rolled your eyes but didn't bother replying. Somehow, bantering with him felt like the only way to ground yourself after what just happened. As you exited the studio, the cool air hit your face, and for the first time that day, you felt like you could breathe again.

"Where are we even going?" you asked, breaking the silence as Jeonghan led you toward the building's private parking area.

"You'll see," he said cryptically, his smirk widening.

As you followed Jeonghan to the parking lot, your curiosity piqued. His cryptic response only made you more suspicious. You weren't exactly in the mood for more mystery, but you couldn't deny that something about his confident demeanor made you feel oddly intrigued.

He stopped at his sleek black car, unlocking it with a quick press of a button. The engine purred to life as he slid into the driver's seat. You hesitated for a moment, but then slid into the passenger side, watching him in silence as he adjusted the mirrors and started driving.

"So," you began, breaking the quiet tension. "Where exactly are we going?"

Jeonghan shot you a quick glance, that same smug look on his face. "It's a surprise."

You sighed, sinking back into the plush seat. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Maybe," he said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "But you'll find out soon enough."

The drive was smooth and relatively short, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were heading somewhere neither of you had been before. The city slowly gave way to more secluded, quieter streets—definitely not a part of town you usually visited.

The car finally came to a stop in front of an upscale, modern building with glass windows reflecting the dimming sky. It had an air of exclusivity about it, something that felt... out of place.

You glanced at Jeonghan, your brow furrowing. "What is this place?"

"Trust me," he said as he turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. "You'll want to come inside."

The door clicked open, and Jeonghan got out without waiting for your response. You followed reluctantly, your footsteps echoing as you walked toward the entrance.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by a warm, welcoming ambiance. It looked like a boutique hotel mixed with an art gallery—sleek furniture, artwork on the walls, and dim lights that set a mysterious yet cozy mood.

Jeonghan led you through the lobby and past a few velvet-curtained rooms. He didn't look back at you, and you followed in silence, your curiosity growing with each step.

Finally, he stopped in front of one of the rooms. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a luxurious suite, complete with a king-sized bed, a large soaking tub, and panoramic windows overlooking the city skyline.

"What is this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head was spinning with questions, but something told you Jeonghan wasn't here to answer them just yet.

"Like I said," he started, turning to face you with that same enigmatic smirk, "a surprise."

Your heart rate picked up as you looked around the room. The last thing you wanted was more uncertainty, more drama, but you couldn't deny the pull. Jeonghan, for all his teasing and annoying habits, had a way of making everything feel... intense. You had no idea what was coming, but that only seemed to heighten the tension.

He stepped closer to you, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. "Are you going to ask more questions?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated, your mind racing. But with no clear way out and Jeonghan standing so close, his presence overwhelming, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

You hesitated, your mind racing. The atmosphere between the two of you had shifted, and there was no clear way out. Jeonghan stood close, his presence looming, his eyes unwavering as they searched yours for an answer. You could feel the heat radiating between you, almost like an unspoken tension that had been building up since last night.

With no way to turn back now, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

"I'll take my chances," you said, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the nerves twisting inside you.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Jeonghan's face as he reached for your hand, fingers warm and confident against yours. Without a word, he led you further into the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a quiet finality.

The space seemed suddenly smaller, more intimate, as you felt his hand guide you toward the bed. Your heartbeat quickened, a mix of excitement and hesitation swirling in your chest. Jeonghan's eyes were fixed on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken promises.

Before you could think twice, you found yourself sitting on the bed, your hands resting on your lap. But Jeonghan didn't give you much time to process. He was already standing in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, his presence intoxicating.

Without a word, you slid your hands to his chest, pulling him toward you. His lips met yours in an instant—urgent, hungry, like something had finally snapped between the two of you. Your breath caught as you melted into the kiss, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you.

In a blur of movement, Jeonghan's hands were on your hips, pulling you onto his lap with a smooth, practiced motion. You straddled him, the heat between you both intensifying as your bodies aligned in a way that felt both familiar and completely new.

His hands roamed over your waist, fingertips grazing the skin beneath your shirt as his lips trailed down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You gasped softly, unable to suppress the wave of desire that rushed through you.

The kiss deepened as you instinctively ground your hips against him, the friction between you both making your pulse race even faster. Jeonghan's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his body language giving away everything he'd been holding back.

It was getting hot, the more you pulled yourself closer to him, the more it felt like he was trying to lean away like he's teasing you for some reason. Until his head hit the soft mattress under him, you were on top of him and he found it so hot.

That was the plan after all. He was making you lean closer until he lays down completely on the bed.

Your cheeks was so red as you tongue-kissed him, eyes fluttered shut with your pretty lips soft all over his. Jeonghan's hand went to the back of your head, forcing the kiss to go deeper.

You were wearing tight jeans at the moment that you can practically feel his cock gracing your clothed cunt. Meanwhile, Jeonghan's hands wandered under your cute blue puffed sleaves flutter top, his hands moved with precision as if he's trying to memorize your curves.

And that's when his hands found your hips, pulling you flush against his hard clothed cock. You whimpered when you felt his cock rubbing against your clit. Pulling away, you took a breath, but it wasn't long until Jeonghan's hand grabbed your chin as he sat up again, kissing you deep in the same hungry way again.

For a moment, Jeonghan pulled away, his eyes locked with yours. Your lips were swollen and he's proud to think how messed up you look right now with your cheeks red and body hot as if you have a fever or something.

You feel so embarrassed when you find yourself soaking wet.

"Undress for me," he broke the silence, and you stared at him, cheeks heating up more if that was possible.

You were stuttering, not what knowing what to do or say—not when he's looking at you with a grin that makes him look oh-so-handsome.

Jeonghan leaned back, hands resting on the bed watching what you would do. He wasn't doing anything at all, but why does it feel like the more he pulls away, the more you wanted to act all stupid and do as he says.

And just like that, you found yourself talking your clothes off, skin exposed right in front of him. His eyes roamed over your bare body, as if he's working on all his self control to not touch you just yet. To see how far you can get being bossed around by him.

You unclipped your bra, unbuttoned your pants and removed them all the way down. Jeonghan bit his lips, but he didn't do anything just yet. He was enjoying having you follow his order.

He leaned in close, his lips finding your jawline down to your neck, now nipping at the sensitive flesh there, making you flinch a little.

"A- are you giving me hickeys..?" You asked, but he didn't answer just yet. He guided your hands to the waistband of his pants, and you pulled it down, revealing Jeonghan's hard length. The bulge itself was enough to make you speechless. Doesn't matter, you were already speechless as it is.

Jeonghan unbuttoned his long-sleeved polo off, with him pulling you by the chin to look at him as he devours your lips yet again. His hands travelled back to your hips, pulling you to grind your soaked cunt to his hard cock. All you can do was moan in between kisses with him swallowing every sound coming from those pretty mouth of yours.

He tightened the grip on your hips before he pulled away for you to catch your breath.

You were panting, your pussy burning with the aching feeling of wanting his cock deep inside you. You feel so slutty that you didn't even notice Jeonghan's hand make it's way to your inner thighs.

"You're so fucking wet. You're incredibly turned on just with a few kisses?" Jeonghan mused, looking at your glistening cunt. "I'm putting a finger in."

Jeonghan rubbed your clit, making you whimper under his touch, skin shivering as you pulled your hips against his hand. He couldn't help but smirk how worked up you were right now. He's got a lot to say, but no words came out of his mouth. He was too focused at the sight before him.

When he inserted two fingers in, it slipped inside you so easily. "What the fuck? It's like I don't need to prep you."

He continued pulling his fingers in and out of you, earning a chorus of loud moans, your head falling on his shoulders when he reached that one good spot that almost made you pass out. His thumb was running circles on your clit while his fingers worked in you like he's done it a hundred of times before.

You were breathless, biting your lips to stop yourself from moaning his name. "J- Jeonghan...!! Fuck... S- so good." You said as you cum all over his hand, followed by a sweet squirt.

But that didn't stop Jeonghan, his fingers continued to work on you, trying to overstimulate you. And just like that, you cum again. He pulled his fingers out licking his fingers as his eyes met yours in a darkened gaze.

Panting, your cheeks flushed, Jeonghan gripped your hips, pulling you to his cock.

He was hard you can feel his precum on the tip of his cock. You grabbed it, stroking your hand over his cock, and Jeonghan grunted, head falling back.

"You're going to be the death of me," he managed to say.

You got on the floor, kneeling in between his thighs as you opened your mouth for his cock, licking the tip with your hand stroking the rest before bobbing your head all over him.

Jeonghan groaned, his hand grabbing your hair making you blow him deeper. "f- fuck, you're such a good fucking slut."

You whimpered, having his cock reaching your throat. He was too fucking long for your pretty mouth, you were gagging. He didn't let go until he reached his highs, cumming all over your mouth. he pulled your face away to see if you were fine, but the sight caught him off-guard.

You were panting prettily, mouth opened with his cum evident in between your lips, dripping like honey. But you didn't let it drip anywhere, you swallowed his hot load, wiping your lips.

Fuck. And he's fucking hard again.

Jeonghan doesn't usually have a high sex drive, but now that told a whole different story. He pulled you off the floor, his fingers brushing your cheeks.

You straddled on him. He kissed your cheeks before whispering, "Safe word?"

"Fox." You replied. But before he can shift you under him, you continued—"I want to ride your cock."

Jeonghan smirked, his thumb caressing your lips. "You're full of surprises, sly fox." You were too horny to reply. Screw it, he was gorgeous, and that made you want to dominate him. "Be my guest, sweetheart."

You guided your pussy to the tip of his already pre-cum cock. But just before you prepared yourself to make him fit—thinking of how it would probably hurt a little because of how big he was, Jeonghan held your hips before slamming it down his cock, your cunt swallowing him. The stretch was real and good you almost passed out, but you gathered yourself—you can't possibly back out now that you volunteered to do all the work. You knew Jeonghan would just tease you after this.

"Shit. Pussy's fuckin' made for me," he grunted, his chest falling in and out. You grinded yourself, his hot balls making you bounce on him.

"Such a pretty slut." He watched your body bounce, tits bouncing so prettily as your moans matched the squelch of your pussy was making.

You were bouncing on his cock fast, his cock buried deep in your pussy. It reached your g-spot and it made you stop there, pulling yourself deeper, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Jeonghan grunted, whimpering as he held your hips in place, lifting you up before slamming your cunt hard in him again, it made you moan loudly.

"I- I'm cumming, hannie!" You panted. Jeonghan felt your walls gripping his cock, he furrowed his brows before moving your hips up and down to reach his highs. And just like that, you cummed all over his cock, it didn't take him long before his hot load came. He took his cock out of you, cumming all over your stomach.

"Fuck, you feel so good," He says, carrying you under him, locking you in between his arms. "You're so fucking pretty I want my cock inside you forever."

You were processing things blinking a few times to him before his hardened cock—was inside you again, making you breath out a moan.

"You rode me so well." He panted out, fucking your pretty little pussy recklessly but deliberately. "But I want to fuck you mercilessly."

He slammed his cock in and out of you so hard you squirted for the second time. "A- anghh !!" You moaned, your eyes rolling. "F- fuck me hard, sir!" You moaned out.

Jeonghan was panting heavily, the sudden nickname caught him off guard. "Insatiable slut." He slammed his cock so hard you were on the verge of cumming. He continued rutting inside you, with a one hard thrust, he cummed. His hot semen coating your pretty hot walls. You cummed after.

But the man didn't stop there. He was down bad for you he didn't hold himself back. He rose your legs up, making it rest on his shoulders before entering your cunt again, balls slamming your fucked up pussy as you swallowed him well.

"Fuck.... So fucking good." He muttered, pounding on your cunt like there was no tomorrow. "S- Sir! I'm cumming!" You moaned, his hands holding your thighs down so you won't have to move much. "Cum all over my cock, sweetheart." He replied, raising one of your legs so he can get a better angle of fucking in you.

He slammed his cock hard in you, his hips pounding in and out of you, your pussy squelches over his cock.

Jeonghan made one last thrust, putting pressure between your hips until your walls tightened. He took his cock out cumming all over your stomach as you finally cummed.

You were breathing heavily, body trembling as Jeonghan's body fall beside you.

Weren't the two of you supposed to have lunch? Then why had you ended up on a bed, bare skin against sheets, your body aching after Jeonghan had worked you to exhaustion. It wasn't just the number of rounds—although those alone had left you trembling—it was the fact that you hadn't stopped him. No, you hadn't even wanted to. But why?

Why had things spiraled this way when just yesterday, it had been Wonwoo who'd left his marks on you? And now here you were, letting Jeonghan—your boss, of all people—drag you into a mess you weren't sure you could untangle.

You sat up gingerly, the soreness of your cunt pulling at your every movement, watching as Jeonghan knelt beside the bed. He was quiet as he ran a freshly dampened towel over your thighs, his touch softer than you expected.

"You don't have to clean me up. I can do it myself," you muttered, your cheeks burning.

Jeonghan smirked, though he didn't stop wiping at your skin. "Sure you can. But I'm the one who fucked you earlier, and I'm not about to leave you like this. Especially since you'll just go back smelling like me and let those vultures at work run wild with it."

You opened your mouth to argue but paused. He was right—he was infuriatingly always right—and lately, he'd been treading carefully as though protecting you from something. But why? What was he playing at?

Chuckling lightly, you ran your fingers through his soft, slightly tousled hair. "I don't get it. In the middle of the day, you pull me into some random, bougie place I've never even heard of, and then—this? What's up, Jeonghan?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully before replying, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second. "Honestly... I don't know either."

The words hung between you as he trailed the towel along your collarbone, his movements slow and deliberate. He finally met your eyes, his breath hot against your face, and you hated how effortlessly captivating he was.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but when Jeonghan didn't pull back, it deepened into something that stole your breath and left your lips swollen all over again.

When he pulled away, his voice was low, teasing. "Let's prove your co-workers just how wrong they are." He put your clothes over your body again, handing the rest of your clothes.

You blinked, his words snapping you out of the daze as you covered yourself up. "Prove them wrong? How?"

Jeonghan smirked as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "They said you slept with me to get this job. Let's show them that if we did sleep together, it's only now—and it's because I wanted to ruin you in a completely different way."

By the time you arrived back at work, two hours had passed, and every pair of eyes in the office practically burned into you. You could hear the whispers again, loud enough that they were obviously meant for you.

"See? I told you." "She's shameless. Bet she skipped the interview process entirely and went straight to Jeonghan's bed." "I'd kill to know what tricks she used to get where she is."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you followed Jeonghan into the building. He walked ahead of you like he always did, tall and unbothered, but you didn't miss the way his sharp gaze flicked briefly toward the gossipers. He could stop this. He probably wanted to. But you weren't going to let him. This was yours to handle.

You stopped in your tracks, giving Jeonghan's sleeve a subtle tug. He paused, glancing back at you. "I've got this," you murmured, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

Turning toward the group, you walked over with a calm, measured confidence that instantly silenced them. You raised an eyebrow, your tone dripping with mock curiosity. "Oh, please. Don't stop on my account. You were saying?"

One of the women—bold enough to meet your eyes—crossed her arms. "We were just... wondering how someone like you manages to stick around here. Must be nice to have such... connections."

You smiled sweetly, though your eyes glinted dangerously. "Connections, huh? Interesting take. But you're right—it's been an uphill battle. Not everyone can stay in the same position for years while letting the same tired poses get approved in photoshoots. What's that phrase? Oh, right—bare minimum energy."

The color drained from her face, but you didn't stop there.

"By the way," you added, your tone light but cutting, "if you have so much free time to monitor my life, maybe I should suggest Jeonghan cut your workload. He loves people who are efficient, after all."

The woman opened her mouth to retort, but you waved her off with a laugh. "Relax. I'm joking. Maybe."

Jeonghan reappeared behind you then, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "Is there a problem here?"

You glanced over your shoulder, flashing him a knowing smile. "Not at all. Just clearing up some... misunderstandings. Right, ladies?"

The group muttered something incoherent before scrambling back to their desks.

As you turned to walk away, Jeonghan leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. "Remind me to let you handle all my PR scandals. You're ruthless."

You smirked, shooting him a playful glare. "I told you I've got this."

And just like that, you walked back to your desk, head high, leaving the entire office wondering just how they'd underestimated you for so long.

The rest of the day passed in a strange haze of triumph and simmering tension. The office was quieter now, the usual hum of whispers replaced by nervous glances and hurried footsteps whenever you walked by. You didn't need their approval—hell, you didn't even want it—but silencing the chatter, even momentarily, gave you a sense of satisfaction.

Jeonghan, of course, was Jeonghan. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon flitting between meetings and casually dropping by your workspace, leaning against your desk like he owned the entire building (which, to be fair, wasn't entirely wrong). Each time, his eyes lingered a little too long, his smirk a little too knowing.

By the time the clock struck six, you were more than ready to head home. But as you gathered your things, Jeonghan's voice cut through the silence of the nearly empty office.

"Leaving already?"

You glanced up, finding him standing in the doorway of his office, his jacket slung casually over one shoulder. He looked as put-together as ever, but there was something in his expression that gave you pause—something unreadable.

"It's late," you replied, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I figured you'd be the first to kick me out."

Jeonghan chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing just in front of your desk. He placed a hand on the surface, leaning in slightly. "And miss the chance to give you a ride home? That doesn't sound like me."

You narrowed your eyes, already sensing the trap. "I can manage, thanks."

"Don't be stubborn," he said smoothly. "You've had a long day. Consider it a peace offering for earlier."

Earlier. As if that entire thing hadn't left you questioning every decision you'd made in the past 48 hours.

Still, there was no winning against Jeonghan when he got like this, and you were too tired to argue. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your bag and followed him to the elevator.

The ride down was silent, save for the soft hum of the elevator music. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor numbers as they ticked by, trying to ignore the way Jeonghan's presence filled the small space.

It wasn't until you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, that he finally broke the silence.

"You know," he began, his tone almost conversational, "you handled those gossiping idiots pretty well today."

You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. "Were you expecting me to cry in the bathroom instead?"

He smirked. "Not exactly. But I have to admit, watching you put them in their place was... entertaining."

"I'm glad my misery is amusing to you."

"Don't twist my words." He turned to you briefly, his expression softening. "I meant it. You were impressive. People like that—they don't deserve your energy."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. Compliments from Jeonghan were rare, and hearing him say something so genuine left you oddly unsettled.

"Thanks," you muttered, turning to look out the window.

The car fell silent again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you hesitated before reaching for the door handle.

"Jeonghan," you began, glancing at him, "why... why are you doing all this?"

He tilted his head, his eyes locking with yours. "Doing what?"

"This." You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "Acting like you care. Protecting me. Dragging me into... whatever the hell this is."

For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly?" he said, his voice quieter now. "I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't. But here we are."

You stared at him, searching his expression for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was exhaustion, vulnerability, and something else you couldn't quite name.

"Goodnight, Jeonghan," you said softly, opening the door.

"Night," he replied, watching as you stepped out of the car and disappeared into the building.

Entering your apartment, you lazily set your bag down the table before falling onto your bed. Your body was aching from earlier—no, probably not just from how Jeonghan fucked you bad, but Wonwoo too, last night. You had sex in two nights streak, of course your body would ache.

You opened your phone—though you wanted to sleep already, you still had to check on your schedule for streams tomorrow since it was sunday, you had really nothing much to do. Then you received a discord notification popped up. It was Hoshi spamming your username on one of the servers. You didn't want to open the app, you were too exhausted to even deal with Hoshi's godforsaken childishness, but you opened it anyways.

#general ho5hi_kwon: @/kitsunya ho5hi_kwon: Are you free tomorrow? We're gonna watch a LOL competition, Wonwoo, Jun, Minghao, and Vernon's playing. dk_is_dokyeom: Dude stop forcing her to come all the time dk_is_dokyeom: Do you like her or something 😏 ho5hi_kwon: NAH. YOU LIKED HER. pledis_boos: We all know, Seokmin. We all know

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. These idiots. Whenever the three were in the same room, it'd always end up being chaotic.

Then there was that. Your thoughts wandered back to those days—Seokmin's shy smile when he confessed under the cherry blossom trees, his constant efforts to make you laugh, his warm hugs when you were at your lowest. You'd loved him, in your own way, but breaking up had been your only option. Your life had been a mess back then, and dragging him down with you was something you refused to do.

You shook the memories away and glanced back at the chat. Seokmin was probably sulking already. He always did when the teasing went too far, you couldn't bear to see your high school sweetheart get involved in your mess.

But now, he isn't the type to be teased like this. You knew he'd sulk real hard and maybe not even talk to Hoshi or Seungkwan for a couple of days.

You chatted on the server once their fighting has cooled down.

#general kitsunya: yea, sure, ill go kitsunya: send me the details ho5hi_kwon: I already sent the link. Don't dare be late.

You locked your phone and let it drop onto your bed. Why had you agreed to go? You didn't even know. Maybe it was exhaustion clouding your judgment. Maybe you just didn't want to be alone with your thoughts of Jeonghan or Wonwoo.

The next morning, your alarm kept ringing. God knows how many times you already pressed the infamous snooze button. But then you remembered, The LoL competition was starting 12 pm. You checked the time on your phone—10:57 am. You groaned before dragging yourself from the comfort of your bed.

You took your sweet time in the shower, glancing at the clock it was 11:32 already. Who cares if you were late. It's not like anyone would care.

You took your time drying your hair and picking out your outfit—a simple gray cardigan layered over a black tank top, paired with baggy black cargo pants and sleek white Converse. To top it off, you slung pastel red headphones around your neck, adding a subtle pop of color. Afterward, you finished with your usual makeup routine, keeping it effortless yet polished.

One last check in front of the mirror, you grabbed your shoulder bag and your phone before Dm-ing Hoshi.

[DM] - hamster freak You: im going to be a little late Hoshi: Thanks for the information. You're already 37 minutes late by the way, did you forget to set an alarm or something? Hoshi: Youre mean. You: dw baby, miss me already? Hoshi: ... You know what, you don't need to come after all. Hoshi: I don't want to see you You: aw stop ure making me want to go You: ill be there to haunt you <3

You took out a small chuckle before you walked your way to the parking lot to enter your car.

You arrived at the venue. And guess who's waiting for you outside the place? Hoshi.

"The hell? How long have you been waiting here?" You asked as you approached him.

He shrugged. "I thought you'd arrive 5 minutes ago, and I was with Jihoon, he went to grab us a few snacks."

"Wow, Woozi would really do something for you?"

"No, he lost a game." He grinned. And you chuckled lightly.

As Woozi gets back, holding a bag of snacks with him, a frown on his face, Hoshi grabbed lollipops, handing one over to you.

You grabbed the lollipop, popping it into your mouth. "Hey Mr. tofu," you greeted with a smile.

"Please don't call me that ever again," Woozi replied with a sigh. Your grin widened. Teasing him always seemed to be your favorite thing to do. You remember teasing him so hard on a stream once that he left the voice chat.

"It suits you," Hoshi chimed in biting on the candies.

You offered to carry some of the bag, but Woozi didn't let you. He can't have a girl help him.

The three of you entered the venue and it didn't take long when you finally met up with the rest of the group. Jun and Minghao were so focused on their computers, playing an LoL 1v1 before the competition started. Vernon was sitting on one of the couches, talking to his girlfriend. And Wonwoo? He was nowhere to be found. Why were you even looking for him in the first place?

"If it isn't for Ms. Fox." You turned to see Seungkwan. A unamused smile crept through your lips. "Oh, it's just you." You replied, earning a chuckle from Hoshi.

"At least I'm not out looking for Wonwoo," Seungkwan replied. You scoffed—hell if that's even true (it is).

You rolled your eyes at Seungkwan's comment but didn't dignify it with a response. Instead, you plopped onto the nearest chair, leaning back as you popped the lollipop back into your mouth.

"You know," Seungkwan continued, sitting on the armrest beside you, "for someone who's 'not looking for Wonwoo,' you sure keep glancing around a lot."

"Get a hobby, Boo," you shot back, smirking at the way his face fell into mock offense.

Jun and Minghao, oblivious to the banter, were still locked in their intense 1v1, their focus unwavering. Hoshi, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, had already started opening a second lollipop, while Woozi muttered something under his breath about "children" as he sat beside him. Vernon, still on the couch, gave you a small wave before turning back to talk to his girlfriend.

You stayed there for a while, trying to relax, but the energy in the room was buzzing—both from the impending competition and your own thoughts. Wonwoo was still nowhere to be seen, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to find him.

"Be right back," you said, standing up and stretching.

"Where are you going?" Seungkwan called after you.

"To mind my business. You should try it," you quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from the others.

You wandered out of the room, letting the chatter and laughter fade behind you as you strolled through the venue. The place was massive—crowds of gamers and fans gathered around booths and screens, the excitement almost infectious. But you weren't here to browse or soak in the energy. Your feet seemed to move on their own, taking you toward a quieter hallway at the back of the venue.

That's when you saw him.

Wonwoo was leaning against a wall near an emergency exit, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his phone. He looked relaxed, but there was a tension in his posture that only you, someone who knew him well enough, could notice.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. He didn't look up, but his voice reached you before you could say anything.

"Looking for me?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying that hint of amusement that always managed to throw you off.

You stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms as you leaned casually against the opposite wall. "And what if I was?" you replied, your voice dripping with nonchalance.

Wonwoo finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unreadable in his eyes, a mix of curiosity and something deeper you couldn't quite place. "Then I'd say you've found me," he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but heavy enough to make your chest feel tight. You couldn't help but let your eyes roam over him—the way his black hoodie hung loosely on his frame, the faint scruff on his jaw that somehow made him look even more attractive. Damn him.

"You disappeared," you said finally, breaking the silence.

"Needed some air," he replied, his voice low. "Didn't think anyone would come looking."

"Well," you started, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, "I wasn't exactly looking for you. Just needed a break from Seungkwan's mouth."

Wonwoo smirked, the corner of his lips curling in that infuriatingly subtle way of his. "Sure," he said, his tone laced with doubt.

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him toward the door. "Don't flatter yourself, Jeon," you tossed over your shoulder, reaching for the door handle.

But before you could pull it open, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and you froze, turning to look at him.

"Stay," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. His hand was warm against your wrist, and for a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you and him, caught in a moment that felt far too intimate for two people who supposedly had nothing unresolved between them. Supposedly.

"Why?" you asked, your voice softer than you intended, almost a whisper.

Wonwoo's thumb brushed against your skin absentmindedly, and he looked away for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. "Because I don't want to be alone right now," he admitted, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard.

Your heart clenched, and for reasons you couldn't explain, you stayed. You let the door close and leaned back against it, crossing your arms as you tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation. "Fine," you said casually, though your pulse betrayed you by racing like you'd just run a marathon. "But you're buying me dinner after this."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his usual stoicism cracking just a little. "Deal."

The two of you stood there for a while, the silence settling again but this time less suffocating, more like a fragile truce. Wonwoo leaned back against the wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and you couldn't help but notice how the dim light softened his features, making him look almost vulnerable.

"You know," you said finally, breaking the quiet, "you're not exactly the easiest person to read."

"Good," he replied without missing a beat. "Keeps things interesting."

You let out a dry laugh. "For who? You? Because everyone else just ends up confused."

Wonwoo's lips twitched into another smirk, but his eyes stayed serious as they locked onto yours. "Not everyone. You're not as confused as you think."

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he got under your skin, how he always seemed to know just the right thing to say to leave you teetering on the edge of something you weren't ready to name.

"Maybe I'm just good at pretending," you shot back, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He pushed off the wall and took a step closer, closing the already small space between you. You had nowhere to go, your back pressed against the door, and the air felt heavier with each passing second. His presence was overwhelming, but you refused to back down.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his face just inches from yours now. "But I don't think you're pretending right now."

Before you could respond, his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture so unexpected and gentle it made your chest tighten all over again. His fingers lingered for a moment, grazing your cheek, and you hated the way your body reacted to his touch, how your resolve seemed to melt under his intense gaze.

"Wonwoo," you began, your voice wavering.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, the tension snapping as his lips captured yours in a kiss that was equal parts soft and demanding.

It was nothing like the heated night you two shared before. There was no hurried desperation, no reckless abandon. This was slower, deeper, as if he was trying to say all the things he couldn't put into words. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you didn't resist. Couldn't resist.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you in place.

"Still pretending?" he asked, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.

You didn't answer. Instead, you closed the gap between you again, kissing him like you were trying to drown out all the questions swirling in your mind. For now, answers could wait.

The kiss deepened, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gripping your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue teased yours.

It was just yesterday when Jeonghan had you shivering under him. And now here you were, entangled with Wonwoo, kissing him like nothing had happened with Jeonghan. It felt wrong. But then again... was there anything to feel wrong about? Did you and Jeonghan even have a thing? Did this—whatever this was—mean anything?

Two men? Really? Neither of them knows you've been fucking with them alternatively like they're just some kind of toy for you. You didn't want that at all.

YYou pulled away, your breath hitching as your cheeks flushed hot. Wonwoo's dark gaze lingered on you, searching your face as though he could see the questions swirling in your mind.

"What exactly is this..?" you asked, your voice a little more unsteady than you'd hoped.

Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back slightly. His arms caged you against the door, the space between you just wide enough for the tension to thrum. "What do you want it to be?"

He didn't answer at all, it only made you even more confused. "I asked first."

"Then I won't answer. So tell me," he said, his voice steady but edged with something you couldn't quite place. "What exactly do you want this to be?"

The question made your breath catch. It was as though he already knew the answer but wanted you to say it first. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew," you murmured, more to yourself than him.

Wonwoo exhaled sharply through his nose, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Then figure it out." He stepped back slightly, his posture relaxing as he leaned against the wall, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You're lying again." He added before turning away completely.

It felt like a dismissal, one that stung more than it should have.

"I'm leaving," you said, your tone sharper than intended as you moved toward the door.

But his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You're not even gonna wish me good luck?" he called out, his tone light, teasing, almost mockingly casual.

You glanced back at him, narrowing your eyes. "I came to see you lose," you shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "And for the record, I'm not your girlfriend."

You stuck your tongue out for good measure before turning on your heel and walking away quickly, leaving no room for him to reply.

Wonwoo watched you disappear, his expression unreadable. But as the door clicked shut behind you, he let out a low chuckle.

"... Yet," he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. You said what you said, and you knew it would trigger him to admitting first.

By the time you made it back to the group, Seungkwan was mid-rant, Hoshi laughing so hard he nearly dropped his soda. Jun and Minghao had moved on from their 1v1 and were watching the pre-match highlights on the screen. Vernon was still on the couch, this time half-listening to Seungkwan while scrolling on his phone.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up," Seungkwan said the moment he spotted you, his voice dripping with mock sarcasm. "Where've you been, Ms. Fox? Lurking in the shadows, plotting our downfall?"

You rolled your eyes, plopping down onto the chair next to Hoshi. "I don't need to lurk in shadows to take you down, Seungkwan. Your mouth does that for me."

The group burst into laughter, Hoshi nearly choking on his drink. "She's got a point," Minghao quipped, smirking.

"Wow, so much for team spirit," Seungkwan shot back, clutching his chest dramatically. "What did I ever do to deserve such cruelty?"

"You existed," you replied with a smirk, earning a high-five from Hoshi.

The banter continued for a while, light and easy, until the sound of a door clicking open made everyone pause.

Wonwoo walked in.

He moved with his usual calm, unbothered demeanor, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. His gaze swept across the room, landing on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Ah, here he is, the man of the hour!" Hoshi cheered, throwing a potato chip in Wonwoo's direction. "Ready to crush some noobs?"

Wonwoo ignored him, his lips twitching in a small smile as he walked over to where you sat. Leaning down slightly, he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, "Miss me already?"

Your breath hitched, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. "You wish."

His smirk deepened, and before you could say anything else, he pulled up a chair beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table.

The others, oblivious to the tension, resumed their chatter, but you couldn't shake the way his proximity sent your nerves into overdrive.

"You good?" Hoshi asked, tilting his head at you.

"Perfect," you said, forcing a smile.

But then Wonwoo spoke again, this time louder. "You know," he began, his tone casual but his eyes locked on yours, "she was pretty sweet earlier. Didn't think she'd have it in her."

The room went quiet, all eyes snapping to you.

"Sweet?" Seungkwan repeated, narrowing his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You glared at Wonwoo, your face heating up. "He's delusional. Ignore him."

"Am I?" Wonwoo teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression.

Before you could retort, Hoshi interjected. "Hold on. Are we missing something here? Why does it feel like there's... something going on?"

"There's nothing going on," you said quickly, shooting a warning glare at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo raised his hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn't done. For the rest of the conversation, he kept it subtle—fleeting glances, the occasional brush of his hand against yours, a smirk every time your eyes met. It was enough to drive you insane.

The others weren't blind. Seungkwan, especially, was watching the two of you like a hawk. "Something's definitely up," he muttered to Vernon, who just nodded, looking mildly amused.

And then the door opened again.

Jeonghan strolled in, effortlessly commanding the room as always. He greeted everyone with his usual charm, but when his eyes landed on you, something flickered in his expression.

"Ah, there's my favorite," Jeonghan said smoothly, his voice laced with a warmth that felt far too intimate for comfort.

You stiffened, your eyes darting to Wonwoo, whose jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Late as usual," Jeonghan added, walking over and placing a hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder, and you could feel the weight of his gaze.

"Traffic," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing.

"Mm," Jeonghan hummed, his eyes lingering on you before shifting to Wonwoo. "Good luck today, Wonwoo. I'm sure she'll be cheering for you."

The tension was palpable. Wonwoo's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't rise to the bait.

"Of course," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but edged with something sharper. "She's already wished me luck in her own... special way."

Jeonghan's smile didn't falter, but his gaze grew sharper as it flicked back to you. "Is that so?"

You wanted to crawl under the table.

"Alright, that's enough," you said, standing abruptly. "I'm going to grab some air before this testosterone overload suffocates me."

You left the room quickly, feeling both men's eyes on you as you went.

The cold air outside the venue did little to clear your spinning thoughts. Leaning against the wall, you tilted your head back and took a deep breath. What the hell is wrong with me? First Wonwoo, now Jeonghan. The back-and-forth between them felt like a game you couldn't keep up with, and it was messing with your head.

Your moment of peace didn't last long. The sound of a door swinging open made you flinch. You didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Running away again?" Jeonghan's smooth voice cut through the silence.

You sighed, keeping your gaze fixed on the sky. "Didn't know I had to explain my every move to you."

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was leaning against the wall beside you. "You don't. But it's fun watching you squirm."

You turned to glare at him, but the amusement in his eyes made it impossible to stay mad. He had that effect on people—disarming them with a single glance, making them forget why they were upset in the first place.

"Seriously, what do you want, Jeonghan?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"Just checking on you," he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours. "You seemed... tense back there."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like a certain someone was getting under your skin."

Your cheeks heated, and you immediately looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, straightening up. "If you say so. Just remember..." He hesitated, a rare moment of seriousness flashing across his face. "Not everyone plays fair."

Before you could ask what he meant, the door opened again, and this time, it was Wonwoo.

His gaze flicked between the two of you, his expression unreadable. "We're starting soon," he said, his voice steady but his eyes locked on Jeonghan's hand resting casually on the wall near your shoulder.

Jeonghan smiled, stepping back with an exaggerated stretch. "Guess I'll see you both inside, then."

He walked off, leaving you alone with Wonwoo. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You good?" Wonwoo asked after a beat.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" you muttered, brushing past him to head back inside.

The room was buzzing with excitement as the matches began. You found a seat near the back with Hoshi and Seungkwan, who were both yelling their predictions over each other.

"10,000 won (seven bucks in USD) says Minghao takes the win," Seungkwan declared, stuffing popcorn into his mouth.

"Please, it's going to be Wonwoo," Hoshi shot back.

"Don't bet your snacks. You'll lose," you said dryly, earning a laugh from Hoshi.

The first round was a chaotic storm of champions clashing across the map. Jun, known for his unconventional picks, played an unexpectedly aggressive strategy, diving into enemy territory with bold moves that had the crowd roaring in surprise. Despite his daring plays, his occasional overextensions cost him valuable objectives.

Vernon, on the other hand, played a game of precision. He focused on controlling vision and sneaking objectives, his calculated decisions earning him steady ground. Every play felt like a chess move, deliberate and cerebral.

But it was Minghao who stole the spotlight early on. His champion of choice, a mechanically complex assassin, zipped across the map with unnerving efficiency. His precision in landing skills and uncanny sense of timing had even the commentators struggling to keep up.

"Unreal!" one of them exclaimed as Minghao pulled off a near-impossible triple kill under turret. "Minghao is playing like a pro today. That's a highlight reel moment right there!"

Then there was Wonwoo. His gameplay was as smooth and methodical as ever, every move calculated to perfection. His champion, a versatile mage, danced on the edge of danger, dishing out massive damage while dodging death by a hair's breadth. The way he controlled team fights, predicting his opponents' moves, was mesmerizing.

Yet, from your spot in the audience, something felt... off.

The tournament narrowed to the final rounds, the competition growing fiercer with each game. Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina (Vernon's girlfriend), the other contestant dominated her brackets, while Jun and Vernon made valiant efforts but fell behind.

In the semifinals, Minghao and Wonwoo clashed head-on. Every moment was charged, the room so quiet during team fights that you could hear the players' keyboards clicking like gunfire.

Minghao's assassin darted through the shadows, targeting Wonwoo's backline with surgical precision. But Wonwoo's mage held its ground, zoning Minghao out with well-placed spells. The two traded kills and counterplays, the audience bouncing between gasps and cheers as the scoreboard evened out.

At one point, Minghao narrowly escaped a death trap Wonwoo had meticulously set, slipping away with a sliver of health. The crowd erupted in disbelief, and even Minghao, usually composed, let a small grin slip as he glanced across the row of PCs toward Wonwoo.

"Nice try," Minghao teased, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear but quiet enough not to catch the commentators' attention.

Wonwoo didn't respond, his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the screen.

The Final Match

The finals arrived. The match pitted Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina against one another in a free-for-all deathmatch—a battle royale to crown the victor.

The atmosphere was electric. Spectators leaned forward in their seats, their excitement palpable.

As the game unfolded, it became clear this wasn't just about skill. It was about mental fortitude. Minghao's assassin thrived in the chaos, darting in and out of fights with deadly precision. The pro player focused on controlling the map, securing key objectives to maintain his lead.

Wonwoo, however, was visibly different. While his plays were sharp, there was a hesitation in his movements. It was subtle, but you noticed it.

And then it happened.

In the middle of a crucial team fight near Baron, Wonwoo's mage was in the perfect position to deal a devastating combo. His team was counting on him. The enemy champions grouped together, a rare opening for a game-changing attack.

But his eyes flickered—just for a second—to the audience. To you.

More specifically, to Jeonghan.

You hadn't noticed until now, but Jeonghan's arm rested casually on the back of your chair, his body angled just slightly toward yours. It wasn't overtly intimate, but it was enough to draw Wonwoo's attention.

His hand hesitated on the keyboard. That split-second pause was all it took.

Minghao, ever opportunistic, dove into the fight with precision. His assassin eliminated Wonwoo's mage in seconds, turning what could've been Wonwoo's moment of glory into a crushing defeat.

"Unbelievable! Minghao secures the ace!" the commentator shouted, the audience exploding into cheers.

As the game ended, the results flashed on the screen:

1st Place: Minghao

2nd Place: Wonwoo

3rd Place: Hyeina

4th Place: Vernon

5th Place: Jun

Minghao leaned back in his chair, arms raised in triumph as the crowd cheered his name. Jun clapped enthusiastically, shouting something about how "he taught Minghao everything he knows."

Wonwoo, meanwhile, sat frozen at his station, his fingers still hovering over the keys. His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen, the weight of his loss sinking in.

After the tournament, the group gathered near the exit, congratulating Minghao on his win.

"You were insane out there!" Hoshi exclaimed, clapping Minghao on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Seungkwan said, waving him off. "The real story here is what happened to Wonwoo? You totally choked in that last fight."

"I didn't choke," Wonwoo said, his tone sharper than usual.

"Sure," Seungkwan teased. "It's not like you were distracted or anything." His eyes darted to you, a sly grin spreading across his face.

You glared at him. "Don't start."

"Don't start what? I didn't say anything!"

Wonwoo, who had been silent, finally spoke up. "Let it go, Seungkwan." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made everyone shut up.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Jeonghan's arrival. He walked in with his usual confidence, his eyes briefly meeting Wonwoo's before landing on you.

"Ready to head out?" Jeonghan asked, his tone light but pointed.

You hesitated, glancing at Wonwoo, whose expression was unreadable.

"Yeah," you said finally, grabbing your bag. "Let's go."

As you walked out with Jeonghan, you couldn't shake the feeling of Wonwoo's eyes on your back.

The walk back with Jeonghan is heavier than you anticipated. He doesn't outright tease you like he usually does—instead, his tone shifts to something uncharacteristically serious as he brings up Wonwoo's reaction during the match.

"You know," Jeonghan starts, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets, "he's never been that distracted before. I almost feel bad for him."

"Feel bad?" you scoff, trying to ignore the pang of guilt his words stir in you.

Jeonghan stops walking, turning to face you. "I get it, though. You're... hard to ignore." His gaze softens, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

"Jeonghan..."

He steps closer, closing the space between you. His voice lowers, intimate, almost a whisper. "I'm not like him. I don't get distracted. When I want something, I take it."

Before you can process his words, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and smirks. "Saved by the bell. Let's get back to the others before they start a search party."

The moment passes, leaving you reeling as you follow him back inside.

The group gathered after the tournament, energy high from the event. Seungkwan and Hoshi were relentless, teasing Wonwoo about his second-place finish.

"Come on, man," Seungkwan said, grinning. "Second place isn't that bad. It's just, you know... not first."

Hoshi chimed in, "And hey, at least you didn't lose to Vernon's girlfriend! Minghao's cool with it too. That's gotta count for something."

Wonwoo forced a smile, but his usual sharp comebacks were absent. His eyes flickered to you once, twice, before he finally stood and excused himself.

Minghao, ever observant, leaned toward you. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly, brushing it off. But as your gaze followed Wonwoo's retreating figure, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your chest.

"Minghao, the champion," Vernon announced dramatically, using his phone to film the moment. "First place for only the second-best LoL player in the room!"

Minghao rolled his eyes, pushing Vernon off. "Shut up, Vernon. You're just mad because you got fourth."

"Hey, fourth is still a medal," Vernon protested, holding up an imaginary gold medal and waving it in Minghao's face. "You know what they say, bronze is for champions too!"

"Fifth, Vernon. Fifth." Jun deadpanned, smacking Vernon on the back of the head. "Don't act like you didn't lose to your girlfriend."

"Not the point, Jun." Vernon sighed dramatically, turning to Woozi for backup, but Woozi, who'd been too busy sinking into his chair post-tournament, just shrugged. "Maybe next time, Vernon."

Meanwhile, Wonwoo, still nursing his second-place loss, had moved to the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes flickered from his phone to you and back again, each glance slightly more pained than the last.

Seungkwan, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, Wonwoo! Don't be too upset about second place. At least you didn't lose to a noob."

"I didn't lose to a noob," Wonwoo muttered, glancing up at Seungkwan. "Minghao's practically a legend in his own right. It's just..."

"Just what?" Seungkwan grinned mischievously, nudging him. "You distracted by someone else on the sidelines?"

Wonwoo froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he forced a grin. "What are you talking about?" he said, pushing away from the wall to join the others, a little too quickly. "I'm fine."

"You're not fooling anyone," Seungkwan shot back, arching an eyebrow. "I saw you practically zoned out when you were supposed to be taking down Minghao's assassin and then you just stared at someone—someone who happens to be sitting next to Jeonghan."

Cue the awkward silence that followed. Everyone immediately turned to look at you, then back at Wonwoo.

The heat rising to Wonwoo's cheeks was almost too funny, and you couldn't help but smirk. "I wasn't staring at anyone," he muttered, though it was obvious to everyone that he'd been thinking about something—or someone—during that match.

"Oh, please," Hoshi cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's like watching a badly scripted K-drama. Wonwoo, bro, I think you might have feelings for our girl here." He wagged his eyebrows dramatically.

"Shut up, Hoshi," Wonwoo growled.

"Wow, are we really doing this now?" Minghao jumped in with an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. "The Love Triangle Drama: Episode 1. First place and already the star of the show!" He gave an exaggerated bow, clearly enjoying the chaos.

"You know, this tournament could've been more fun if someone didn't get all distracted by their feelings," Jun said with a wink, completely ignoring the fact that he was also in the bottom half of the rankings.

"Yeah, at least you could have gotten first if you weren't so distracted!" Vernon added helpfully. "Who needs to focus when you've got heart-eyes, right, Wonwoo?"

The entire room burst into laughter. Even Woozi, who had been trying to stay out of the conversation, snorted into his drink, making everyone laugh even harder.

Wonwoo's face turned a shade of crimson, but he could do nothing but grin sheepishly. "Okay, okay, enough. You guys are insufferable."

Just when the teasing reached its peak, the door to the room opened, and Jeonghan casually strolled in, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said in a voice laced with mischief, taking in the scene with a knowing look. “What have we here? A bunch of losers and an overly distracted second-place finisher?”

Wonwoo stiffened at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, and you, suddenly aware of the charged atmosphere between the three of you, quickly stood up, trying to play it cool.

“I’m not distracted,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, but Jeonghan was already looking at you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Oh? You sure about that?” Jeonghan teased, eyes flicking between you and Wonwoo. “I mean, I was just sitting next to her, and someone over there couldn’t even finish a team fight without—” Jeonghan paused, throwing a glance at Wonwoo’s flushed face. “...well, we all saw it.”

Wonwoo’s face fell, the teasing from his friends now blending with the tension in the room. But before anyone could comment further, Jeonghan stepped toward you, wrapping a lazy arm around your shoulders in a move that was way too casual for the situation.

“I don’t know what all this fuss is about,” Jeonghan said, his voice smooth, his smirk never leaving his lips. “But if anyone should be distracted, it’s because I’m here now.”

Wonwoo’s gaze darkened, and you could feel the heat building in the air. The laughter from the others died down as everyone realized the shift in the mood.

“You’re really doing this, Jeonghan?” Wonwoo muttered, not bothering to mask the irritation in his tone.

Jeonghan just laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “What? Am I not allowed to stand next to my favorite teammate?”

The teasing in the room became suffocating, but the mix of humor and tension was what made it unbearable. Everyone knew what was happening. It was clear, and no one was pretending anymore.

a/n: i have nothing to say but to thank you to everyone who kept me going. want to be added to the permanent series (part-time lover) taglist? reblog or comment on the post and you'll be added to every next update of a chapter :]

(p.s. idk maybe i shouldnt have added too much angst? BTW POSTING A POLL (or shouldnt? doesnt matter)—majority wins. Jeonghan or Wonwoo? who do you much prefer to be the end game? lmk !)

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere

@lovrchl @codeinebelle @httpnamu-u @httpnamjoonie94 @6nadia9

@jjonghaniee @ateez-atiny380 @squishysquishjimin @jeonghaniya @thelost-soul

@foulcolorclodoaf-blog @133456789000000000000

(tysm for reblogging :3)

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