#sexism sucks for everyone

[parachutingkitten]

Yes, sexist writing does lead to bad writing for male characters.

No, that doesn't make it less sexist.

[a-treatise-on-velociraptors]

"I felt unfulfilled working the corporate rat race and spending my entire life trying to climb some company ladder for more money and status" Yes! Go! Good! Being a cog in the corporate machine sucks!

"...So I realized that a woman's true calling is to submit entirely to her husband so he can run the corporate rat race while she lives in the home and gives away her independence so she can raise his children and do his housework and submit to his decisions even if they're flawed (or worse, abusive)!" No stop what is wrong with you why would you think that is the solution to this

[mythrilskirt]

Extremely low expectations of this show at this point. So what you're saying is you don't understand the growth arcs of the characters at all on any level and you've removed all nuance from the show. Got it.

[j-esbian]

sometimes i really do want to study the flavor of intense misogyny from older folks, especially when it comes from older women, that assumes all women and girls are sluts and deviants because (checks notes) fashion trends, which the individual consumer has no control over, means that most people’s only options, especially in summer, are to wear somewhat revealing clothing. because it’s hot.

[confusedgoldenflower]

I don’t fucking care. If you sing the praises of a show with only ~half the cast as actual characters, you’re morally bankrupt and should either grow actual standards or never, ever fucking talk to me.

[morgana-pendragon]

a new abed being autistic for x minutes vid dropped and like score for autism and community fans bc it’s almost 3 hours long but the person who makes them seems to hate britta (and annie and shirley at times too) and includes it in their little like add on text thingies and it grinds my nerves so fucking bad

[six-of-ravens]

ah nothing like getting thrown under the bus bc someone overwrote your work on a site and won't admit to it

[ciderjacks]

u guys rly just get on here and say shit don’t u

[luvth0t]

SLUT! ━ C.L

based off ‘slut!’ by taylor swift

or

in which you work in a man’s world, and loving your competitor is a lot more damning for you than charles.

warnings; smut, driver!reader, themes of sexism and misogyny and touches on inequality, angst, lotta tension tbh, she’s kinda long, unprotected sex, overstimulation, praise, degradation like once, public sex, jealousy and maybe a bad friend reader if u squint, haas suck, manifested monaco win for charles :p

lovelorn and nobody knows

love thorns all over this rose,

i’ll pay the price, you won’t

you’d overcome enough challenges in your life.

you’d constantly proven everyone wrong, do what those said you can’t ━ every step and move you made was met with criticism instead of praise. doubt instead of belief.

you found a way. you broke the records, created your own more so. first modern day female f1 driver, and you didn’t intend to be the last.

haas wasn’t where you wanted to be, and while most expected you to be happy with just having a seat; that’s not why you were here. you didn’t fall in love with the sport to just become a driver.

you wanted to win. podiums, wins, championships. like the other 19 drivers ━ you all wanted the same thing.

for some reason you were the only one who got laughed at when speaking on such wants.

but you got used to the laughter, to the unamused or unimpressed journalists ━ this was a man’s world.

that didn’t scare you as a 14 year old girl, and it wouldn’t scare you now.

all these challenges and obstacles that you overcame, all the doubt and hate you shook off; yet there was a certain something you just couldn’t shake.

certain someone more so.

it killed you inside that a man of all things could cause you so much grief, so much internal conflict.

for some reason when it came to charles, you just couldn’t resist. putting your career first, which you’d done all your life, suddenly became difficult.

you didn’t show it, you also weren’t too hard on yourself. it was unfair to be in this position in the first place. to have to be so aware of your relation to the driver, any other drivers of that matter, was a circumstance only you found yourself in.

friendships and banters amongst any other pairings on the grid was adored; snatched up by social media and cameras.

your friendships caused headlines and unwanted press apparently.

it was something you picked up on quickly, the obsession of romance and the assumption that you wanted to sleep with every damn man you raced alongside.

you laughed at it, spoke down on such thing; then didn’t give it any of your time.

until suddenly the rumours were true; charles leclerc had somehow weaselled his way past every barrier and wall you put up.

it wasn’t something you accepted quickly. and once you caught wind of your stupid little heart and it’s fondness of the monegasque you were quick to try put the friendship and it’s entirety six feet under.

this worked, for a few months.

charles had been confused ━ under the assumption you two were at the bare minimum friends. as good as friends as two drivers could get at least. then suddenly you avoided him as if he was carrying the plague.

he couldn’t question it however; it’d be pathetic. to ask you why you refused to meet his eyes in press conferences and drivers briefings anymore.

why you avoided whatever side of the drivers parade truck he was on. why you couldn’t spare him more than a ‘hello’ in passing these days.

he interacted less with other drivers, and didn’t question them. so he couldn’t question you.

las vegas however, was your downfall.

drinking was unavoidable ━ daniel had made you promise to go out with him the moment you congratulated him on his return; and if it hadn’t been him, you knew someone would’ve of.

with daniel, there was max. that was fine; you got on well with max.

then there were talks lando would make it out, despite having gone to hospital; you knew a couple other drivers would also be in the same club you were. an entry fee so high, everyone around you was oozing importance and wealth.

it shouldn’t have surprised you when suddenly charles appeared at an already drunk daniel’s side; loud laughter and murmurs of a prior vegas trip giving you enough time to down your drink in preparation to be in his presence.

you couldn’t run, not when stood in a group of four; silver slip dress doing little to allow you to blend in with the crowd around you.

you felt his gaze on you before your eyes met his, almost as if it was causing heat on your skin ━ demanding you to look at him.

his eyes had met yours with a slight twinkle, slightly hooded and telling you that he too had enough alcohol running in his veins; and the lazy smile he flashed you had your own lips curving upwards with little resistance.

it was embarassing the way your cheeks went a tint of pink as you watched him weave around daniel who was now speaking to max, too engrossed in a story to care about the way charles moved him out of the way, to stand next to you.

immediately you were aware of his hand finding the small of your back as your body became aware of the closeness of him, breath getting caught in your throat as he leant down towards your ear.

“you look incredible,” the compliment was genuine; the smile accompanying his words rendering you unable to find room to complain.

suddenly it was too hot in here. you’d like to blame the alcohol, or the stuffy club. but the man to your left was the only reason you suddenly craved fresh air.

“thank you,” you hummed, not creating distance between the pair of you despite the idea crossing your mind. he was too close, you should step away. but his cologne smelt incredible. and his hand was still lingering on your back lightly.

his smile only grew at your response, having expected you to wiggle away and disappear into the crowd.

the conversation was harmless, it always had been; but speaking with charles was just a reminder that he was one of the good ones.

he’d only ever been kind to you; kind to everyone. one of the first to speak with you like any other driver, speak about racing and your careers without undermining you.

the more time you spent with him the more clear it became that he was flawless. and oh so tempting.

maybe you would’ve ended the conversation when daniel gave you an out, interrupting the pair of you. but it was with shots on a tray next to him.

three shots later and the four of you were all cringing, scrambling to find chasers; charles offering you a lime that you quickly took ━ managing to squirt lime juice everywhere but your mouth.

it had the pair of you erupting into giggles, your hands quickly landing on his shirt which was now speckled in droplets.

“i’m so sorry!” you exasperated, only now becoming aware of the way you were struggling to stand up straight. using his chest to balance you momentarily.

he wasn’t doing any better, telling you it was fine through his own laughter; his hand lifting to your face ━ thumb brushing a few droplets off your cheek as he too swayed side to side.

your eyes met, both drunken and amused ━ and suddenly all rational thoughts had left your body.

“we need another.” you declared, hand grasping around his forearm; watching as his lips parted to disagree. but he couldn’t. a good time too tempting to resist right now.

max and daniel were long forgotten as you weaved through the crowd to the bar to sought after shots of your own; unable to identify the moment your hands had taken grasp of each other.

it was a fun two hours; innocent as well, flirtatious maybe but his hand didn’t stoop lower than your back ━ drinks consistently being poured; drivers, personnel, sponsors and fans rotating through. but you didn’t leave charles side.

you weren’t on edge either, not thinking about the what ifs. about tomorrow or the next week. just enjoying the moment.

time had gone incredibly quickly. you lost track of how many hours had been spent at the bar, how many drinks you’d downed.

charles too, until you were leaning further and further into his side. his intake stopped the moment he realised you were now struggling to stand straight.

the thought entered his mind to find a member of your team, haas or personal, to help you get you to your room soon.

he was drunk, there was no doubt about it. but he was attempting to sober up in your presence.

when you spilt a drink over the bar however, he took responsibility and declared your night was over.

it was a struggle, as his hands clasped around your arms and attempted to push you towards the exit ━ quickly realising he too was struggling to walk straight.

he’d managed however, getting you into the back of his drivers car not as easy with you dropping your phone. then him his wallet, resulting in drunken giggles and mumbles as you finally got buckled in and situated.

most of the car ride was filled with you rambling, charles more than happy to let you speak. he’d missed hearing from you ━ even if he could barely make sense and keep up with your story.

it wasn’t until you were stumbling in the hotel, through the underground entrance thankfully, and into the elevator that there was moments of silence.

you leaned back against the wall, watching as charles pressed the buttons. admiring more so, head titled aside as you gazed over the ferarri driver.

only then did you realise you shouldn’t be in this position. because all you wanted to do was get your hands on him. admire him up close, the distance of the elevator a rude difference to how the night had been spent.

your arms reached upwards, practically beckoning him over; and with an amused smile he easily fell into place ━ approaching you as his hand pressed against the wall beside your head, eyebrows raising upwards in curiosity as he peered down at you.

your arms wrapped around his neck naturally, neither of you phased from the new closeness and comfortability ━ your eyes flickering over his face, lingering on his lips for a few moments too long.

“i want to kiss you,” the words escaped your lips without any thought; it was as if a weight was lifted off your chest. some form of confession quite relieving.

charles hummed at your words, smirking even as he let out a breathy chuckle.

“yeah?” he teased ━ his breath fanning your face, and you nodded without any hesitation. it’s not what you wanted that had you not making any movements.

“mhm,” you sighed, head falling back; charles having not expected the huff of disappointment. you missed the way his eyebrows furrowed for a split second. if he was sober maybe he’d pick up on your internal conflict.

“kiss me then,” charles chimed, hand finding the side of your head; cupping your cheek so delicately you could only lean into the embrace.

never had you called on such will power and mental strength, fighting every instinct and nerve in your body that was practically yearning for him. begging you to put yourself out of your misery for once and rid the distance between the pair of you.

but you hadn’t come so far for nothing. you could only make so many drunken decisions.

“i can’t,” the words were painful to say, even the slight numbness that alcohol brought; you felt every sting of the sentence.

you watched the way his lips only curved upwards, he hadn’t picked up on the seriousness of your words.

“why not?” the question was teasing, his thumb caressing your cheek making it difficult to stick to your guns.

you looked at him as if he should know; because you’d hope he’d have some sort of idea. maybe if you could see straight you would’ve realised that charles reality wasn’t the same of yours.

“people will talk.” it sounded pathetic when you said it out loud, the sentence sobering you up enough to realise such thing. you weren’t one to usually care what people thought, so the way his smile faltered made sense.

charles took a few moments to process your words ━ he would’ve stepped away if it weren’t for your arms around him.

he wanted to point out that you two were in fact alone, but he knew what you meant. no secret was kept secret for long in the world of f1.

“let them.” charles attempted to dismiss, a cheesy smile to match, one that had you smiling as well. but it wasn’t the grin you’d been carrying all night. it was a sympathetic one almost.

charles was putting some pieces together now, as much as he could at least. your avoidance of him was making more sense with the words currently leaving your lips.

“wouldn’t fair well for me,” you mumbled; the disappointment clear in your tone. the annoyance at the fact there was clearly something stopping you. your mood was falling, charles noticed that easily.

and while he himself wasn’t overjoyed with how the night was concluding, he wouldn’t let it be ruined.

“it’s okay,” charles reassured quickly, his lips pressing to your forehead delicately instead ━ you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, he didn’t want you to feel as if you needed too. “let’s get you to bed.” he grinned.

the affectionate action caught you off guard, left speechless as his hand grasped yours and began to directing you out of the elevator. it only having you feeling regret and self pity for letting the moment escape your fingertips.

which only piled on you tenfold when he left your hotel room barely after making it two steps inside.

climbing into the sheets alone had never been so painful.

painful. a good word to describe the next few interactions with charles.

abu dhabi had you on edge. you didn’t know how to face him.

it was typical, finding yourself sat next to him in the drivers press conference. feeling as if every journalist in the room would take note of the exchanging glances, the way your eyes would quickly find something else if his met yours. the way you listened to him speak a little too intently.

charles however had no worries. not a thought in his mind as he shamelessly admired you, listening to every answer you gave. watching as you reacted to the words of other drivers or questions that weren’t to do with you. he couldn’t look away.

you’d avoided him all morning and yesterday; having not caught you after vegas.

charles was used to such behaviour, except now, he knew why. and your reasoning wasn’t good enough to him.

you two could be friends; it didn’t need to be one extreme or the other. so he had no shame in putting in effort to deter yours.

it was frustrating, almost as if every corner you turned he was there. all weekend, if you were not in the haas hospitality or your motor home, charles was near.

it was no coincidence, leaving the press pen at the same time; passing him after any interview, stuck next to him at the drivers briefing.

you couldn’t avoid the conversation, every moment with him was just pushing you further to the edge ━ your self control was hanging by a very thin thread and you were almost ready to cut it every time those damn green eyes linger on yours.

when you arrived at your hotel after qualifying, it was easy to spot him waiting in the lobby. an odd sight considering the lurking fans.

it made sense however, when charles beelined towards the elevator the moment you did.

you had to hold your breath as you both got inside, biting down on the inside of your cheek to not allow your own frustration bubble over.

“what are you doing?” the question was asked through gritted teeth, and the confusion that masked charles face did little to convince you he was as clueless as he looked.

the twinkle of amusement in his eye revealed enough.

“what do you mean?” the question was almost a challenge, charles peering down at you inquisitively - as if he didn’t know the answer himself.

you took a breath, shaking your head ever so slightly.

to put it simply, you were annoyed. at the world for putting you in this position, at yourself for getting to this point, and him for making it more difficult than it had to be.

“you’re stalking me.” you accused; eyes narrowing into a glare; one that intensified as his own lips curved upwards, and if you weren’t so focused on being annoyed you would’ve swooned over the dimples that lined his cheeks in doing so.

“i am not stalking you,” charles mused, laughing at the accusation as he leant against the wall behind him.

you expected more of an explanation ━ your own eyes trained ahead of you at the elevator doors that remained shut. looking at him was too risky.

“you are. you’re everywhere.” you huffed; not pleased with how clear the frustration was in your tone.

charles wasn’t phased, not in the slightest ━ the grin hadn’t left his face; almost as if any conversation with you was more than enough. even if you were huffing and puffing.

he wasn’t sure how the infatuation had spiralled so quickly; maybe he just wanted what he couldn’t have. the man wasn’t too use to rejection, and last week definitely stumped him.

or maybe he just refused to let you run away from what you clearly both see. feel. there was a connection here, he was sure of it.

“are we not friends?” charles question had you drawing a deep breath, suddenly aware of how slow these elevators were. and recognising the first flaw with being blessed with a penthouse room.

“of course we’re friends.” you rolled your eyes, speaking with such certainty as if you needed to remind yourself. friends.

you two were friends at most, that’s all you’d allow the pair of you to be.

“then you shouldn’t actively avoid me.” charles hummed, no shame in calling out your obvious behaviour that he’d let go on for too long.

it was humorous, the way your jaw dropped in offence at the accusation you knew was true.

“i do not.” your voice went up an octave, not even you could believe your own lie ━ nor try to sell it, avoiding his eye now as your leg began to bounce impatiently. it was becoming suffocating, in an enclosed space with him.

“you do.” charles mocked your voice ever so slightly, but the smile that went along with it left you no room to complain as you glanced over at him; your own lips curving upwards for a mere second.

you had nothing to say. to you it was clear, he knew where you stood. but you weren’t budging. it’s not like you wanted to deprive yourself of him; but you refused to sacrifice your career for a man. call it paranoia; but you don’t want to find out the consequences of adding truth to rumours.

“you don’t trust yourself around me.” charles had you read, and he wanted you to know it.

you two could be, should be, able to be friends at least. the monegasque was unsure as to why he was so set on such thing; some of you, was better than none.

“don’t flatter yourself.” you mumbled, attempting to dismiss his words; he was right. hit the nail on the head actually, but you wouldn’t admit that.

“we can be friends.” charles huffed when he realised he was straying from his original intentions; he didn’t want to provoke or tempt you. just make it clear there can be a platonic relationship here. you shouldn’t be scared of that.

“we are.” you reminded, eyebrows raising as you looked up at him; finally holding eye contact with the driver for more than a few seconds.

“then stop avoiding me.” charles repeated; and he’d be ashamed of how desperate he sounded if he had any room to care. but you were more of a pressing issue.

if he hadn’t called you out on a whole range of fronts you would’ve commented on his desperation; the elevator ding beating you to it regardless as the doors slid open.

“fine. only because you care so much,” your reply was playful; attempting to sound amused and unbothered ━ maybe that would distract from the fact you were agreeing with him.

you only had another day of being around him, you could easily do a day with him. las vegas was an example of your strength and will.

but as his grin widened, dimples and all, green eyes still pouring into yours as he backed out of the elevator; you knew it was never going to be easy.

the sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

everyone wants him, that was my crime

the wrong place at the right time

of course it wasn’t easy.

you’d kept true to your word, he’d called you out so you finally relented.

the only solace you found in allowing yourself to get closer to charles was the fact you were right.

every moment spent with him felt like a ticking time bomb. you were cracking, you knew it. deep down you knew it was only a matter of time until you shattered and he’d be there to pick up every piece.

at first you’d coincidentally ran into him at your favourite cafe in monaco. not the first time you’d seen him there; but the first time he signalled you to sit down.

it was harmless at first, a quick catch up. one you’d have with any other colleague you’d bump into in public during winter break.

but there was something about seeing him in such casual attire, hoodie and sweats portraying him in a new light you couldn’t help but take a liking too.

what should’ve been five minutes of small talk was two hours of conversation; two hours of mind numbing tension, pretending to not notice the way his eyes would linger on your lips every now and then. or acting oblivious to the way you laughed at every second word that left his lips.

he parted with an offer to go on a run together sometime, and you accepted with the assumption it would be an empty gesture. a plan that never gets put in place.

but then he texted you a few days later; and suddenly you were struggling to find excuses to reject the offer. struggling to find the want too.

a run wasn’t dangerous. you’d both be pre-occupied.

and you were, until you were standing there puffed; exhausted and puffed; and struggling to not grow further flustered of the sight of a sweaty charles.

muscles flexing against the tight shirt, hair messier than usual; cheeks slightly flushed.

inviting him up to your place for a drink wasn’t your intention, but your mouth was a step ahead of your brain.

uncharted territory had now been crossed. messages were swapped regularly, weekly runs together was almost routine. then hours of conversation at either your apartment or his.

if you hadn’t fallen for him before, you definitely had now. it was beyond physical attraction. and it was mutual.

it was the way you found yourself always ensuring you had the biscuits he’d practically raided the first time he was over, always in an unopened packet awaiting him.

the way he found himself buying the lime flavoured water you preferred to drink after exercising; knowing your odd quirk of not being keen on regular water.

the way he came over with your coffee order and a chocolate croissant from your shared favourite cafe when you bailed on your run, apologising to him because you’d become run down with a cold.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you’d sniffled, heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

“what else are friends for,” charles had practically cheesed.

you’d like to convince yourself he was still at a safe distance, it made it easier to ignore the fact this wouldn’t last forever.

the limbo state was not ideal to neither of you, but it was much better than doing what you felt was inevitable. avoiding him again.

except that would just be much harder this time. before it was a crush; now you were swoon. you counted down the days to see him. awaited his name to appear on your phone.

there’d been close calls; moments where you thought one of you would crack.

like the time you struggled to grab a glass out of his cupboard, tippy toes and all it was out of reach.

you felt him behind you before seeing him, hand finding your hip as his other arm simply reached over you to grab a glass; quick to turn on your feet you hadn’t expected him so close.

“thanks,” you had mumbled, clearly flustered as you looked up at him ━ trapped between his frame and the counter; eyes finding his lips immediately.

silence fell over the pair of you, awaiting one of you to make a move.

you were glad charles had cleared his throat and stepped aside, returning to a safe distance ━ because you didn’t think you’d be capable of such thing in that moment.

charles questioned how he managed to do such thing, each and every time you got close to him he doubted how long he could resist being selfish.

he’d failed to realise back in abu dhabi that he neither could trust himself around you. he’d put in so much effort to prove to you that friends was possible, so naive to the fact it may be worse than before.

while he loved your company, it was a cruel reminder that you had ruled out the possibility of this going further. any dreams or fantasies of more would always stay that way; dreams. not reality.

it frustrated him beyond belief, not that he showed it. the way you gazed up at him through your pretty eyes; as if you’d do anything he asked. the way you always leant towards him when you laughed; how easily he could make you laugh.

and he couldn’t do anything about it. because he wasn’t selfish, you feared the consequences of being with him so he would not push you to face them.

deep down however, the pair of you knew it could only be a matter of time.

yet it still stung how easily it could’ve been avoided.

you weren’t meant to go out tonight, it had been a last minute and spontaneous decision; pressured by your friends who insisted, claiming you missed too many girls nights as it is. that winter break was there time to make up for all you miss while away during the season.

you got kicked out of the first bar you found yourself in, all because one of your friends picked a fight with the bartender; but that didn’t bother you in the moment.

on to the next.

it took a whole eight minutes being at the club, one you had subtlety name dropped to get yourself and your friends into, to spot charles in the crowd.

your friends eyes had found him first; your own merely following theirs in curiosity, and you were grateful that all four of you were preoccupied looking at the driver so they would fail to realise your own longing.

“i have not seen him in ages,” your friend stella spoke first; clueless to the developed friendship between the pair of you. you hadn’t really told anyone, call it trust issues.

“we should go say hi,” stella continued; looking at you all with hopefulness; eyes having lit up and appearing incredibly eager.

you couldn’t think of a worse idea. alcohol and charles almost ruined you once; and that was a few months ago. you didn’t think you had that much self control left.

“we have our own driver right here,” your friend had joked, rejecting the idea as she nudged your arm; purely because she wanted a girls night. and you laughed at the stupidity, ready to play along for your own selfish interests.

“unfortunately y/n, you’re not one stella can sleep with again,” your other friend joked through a smirk, alcohol causing word vomit, because by the way stella quickly slapped her arm told you that information she didn’t want shared.

the revelation had your face falling flat, not able to hide such thing as you pursed your lips in thought.

“you and charles?” the words escaped your lips with too much interest but you couldn’t stop yourself. suddenly needing to know more.

stella had let out an exasperated sigh.

you were grateful to know your friend beside you who rejected the idea of speaking to him was as shocked as you.

“ages ago.” stella tried to downplay, waving the idea off. although then she peered over her shoulder to look at the driver again, an innocent smile spreading across her face.

you nodded slightly, trying to muster a fake smile. you couldn’t be mad; it wouldn’t be rational to be mad. even in the slightest.

“i’m gonna go talk to him.” stella announced, and you could only swallow intently as your friend whined about it being girls night, watching as stella promised she’d be back before weaving through the crowd.

you were staring, but you didn’t care.

left to watch as stella made her presence known. watch as charles face lit up at the familiar face, embrace her quickly and introduce her to those he was stood with.

you could tell he was slightly tipsy, the way he was swaying side to side; even with his arm now draped around stella’s shoulders.

the sight made you sick. jealousy was an ugly trait but you’d never embraced it like you were now.

jealous of the fact your friend didn’t have to worry in going after what she wanted. jealous that she could quite happily cling to charles without worrying who saw.

your mood had plummeted, there was no hiding it. your friends definitely noticing but not questioning as they too glanced over at stella to note her progress.

it wasn’t until charles’ eyes found yours across the room that you looked away.

not in shame, you didn’t care that he knew you were watching; but more so to not make it clear how annoyed you were from the sight alone.

charles tensed up the moment he saw you ━ he hadn’t known you were here. and now that he did, the company he was with suddenly wasn’t good enough.

he’d picked up on your cold stare though; the way you failed to offer him your usual sweet smile.

suddenly he felt guilty, quick to remind himself he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

the driver distracted himself momentarily, tuning back into the conversation that was going on around him. but his mind was now elsewhere. you were consuming his thoughts now.

intentions to keep his distance were thrown out the window when he noticed you in his peripheral; standing at the bar alone.

he shouldn’t approach you; but the idea of letting you sit there and think he would rather spend his time with the blonde on his arm than you didn’t sit well with him either.

so he found himself excusing himself, heading to the bar where you stood.

you’d grabbed your drink, and the moment you turned around to head back to your seat and continue your moping, you’d spotted charles headed straight towards you.

a creature of habit; avoid him was your first thought. so you attempted to pretend to not see him, a sudden sense of urgency as you headed back to the booth your two friends were still sat at.

charles picked up on such thing however, his own urgency increasing as he managed to get ahead of you; practically cutting you off.

you’d been so desperate in your attempts to avoid him and his eyes that you collided, your drink taking the brunt of the hit as it fell to the ground; pouring ice and liquid on the floor, thankfully missing the pair of you.

you were quick to glare up at him, made to watch as he put his hands up in innocence and let out a quick and not too meaningful ‘sorry.’

you didn’t want to speak to him. he was an easy target for your current anger, so stepping around him was easy; you’d go without your drink for now, wanting to return to the safety of your booth.

but charles didn’t think that was fair.

he’d grabbed your arm before you made it two steps away; your name falling from his lips almost in warning.

“you don’t get to be mad at me.” charles huffed, it wasn’t fair. you told him that friends was the only possibility, so you had no reason to be glaring daggers and avoiding him as if he’d done something wrong.

he was right, you knew he was right. you weren’t even mad at him. but you were mad; fed up with the constant deprival you had to put yourself through, at how much you cared about what people would say ━ that you couldn’t put you and him out of your shared misery.

but unfortunately you had nothing else to aim your anger at; it was just you and charles in this position, meaning he fell into your firing line.

“i think you care too much about what i think of you.” you tried to dismiss his comment; not wanting to admit he was right, calling out his constant efforts of chasing you.

you watched as his jaw tensed, the breath he let out and his eyes drifting aside as he tried to rationalise his thoughts before he said something he’d regret.

“i didn’t know you knew stella.” charles huffed; deciding on what could be a civil approach. he didn’t need to explain himself, but that would be easier than playing into your game and letting you try create a rift between the pair of you.

you wanted to throw the words back at his face; but you stopped yourself. neither he nor stella owed you any loyalty when it came to one another; definitely not back then, so you couldn’t use it against him.

“it doesn’t matter.” you tried to sound calm, remove yourself from the animosity you held. if you could just get away from him, go home, and pretend this never happened.

“it clearly does.” charles didn’t miss a beat; it would have been easier to blindly believe you but how was that possible when you were refusing to meet his eyes and running away from him.

you shook your head, not knowing what to say because you couldn’t disagree there. he was right; like usual, surprise, surprise. truths were harder to ignore when it was coming from his mouth.

“it shouldn’t.” you spoke simply, before turning on your heel and heading towards the bathroom now; anywhere to get away. the thread was getting thinner, you didn’t trust yourself around him.

he’d debated on following you for a couple seconds, knowing what he should do. return to his friends. to stella; there was no complications there.

but yet he found himself just a few steps behind you, refusing to let you get the last word. to let you fall back into your old habits of avoiding him.

a part of you knew he was following you, or maybe that’s what you wanted to believe. your want to get away from him was just a product of self preservation, not true desire.

so you weren’t surprised to hear your name once you were about to reach the bathroom. turning around to face him with a sigh. you should’ve pretended to not hear him.

“what are you doing?” you huffed; looking at him with lost eyes because you were running out of things to say or do, unsure where to go from here.

“what do you want?” charles question caught you off guard, alongside the fact he took maybe one or two steps too many when catching up to you ━ so close and you couldn’t find the strength to create any distance.

you pursed your lips, shaking your head ever so slightly.

the lack of an answer spoke for itself, you knew what you wanted. him. but admitting such thing would be dangerous.

“you know we can’t━” you started to say, needing to remind yourself that as tempting as he was right now it wasn’t possible.

he cut you off however. charles knew what you thought; what you presumed others would think.

“i don’t care about anyone else. what do you want?” charles repeated, speaking with such intent it would’ve been intimidating if your mind wasn’t a scramble of thoughts.

he was practically begging you to spell it out for him; to face the truth of the matter. if you could look him in the eye and tell him you were happy with what you both had right now, he’d walk away.

but you were never going to do that. you could only bend so far.

you finally snapped.

connecting your lips with his was the easiest option, and the moment you did it was as if nothing else mattered. relief washing over the pair of you, as if a giant weight was suddenly lifted.

there’d been the slightest amount of hesitant in the action, but that was forgotten immediately.

it was rushed and messy at first, months worth of tension bubbling to the surface as your hands both pawed at one another eagerly; grabbing whatever you could.

having your hands on him wasn’t something you’d take for granted; gripping his shirt; moving to his biceps before wrapping around his neck.

his intentions were similar to yours, his large hands sprawling amongst the sides of your waist ━ not bothered by the way it caused your dress to bunch ever so slightly. he tugged you closer too, as if he was scared you’d leave his grasp.

he managed to back you into the bathroom without disconnecting your lips; hand only leaving your waist to fiddle blindly with the lock.

the kiss was still messy, eager and heated; gasping into his mouth when your back suddenly hit the wall. charles body enclosing you immediately, your legs suddenly feeling week as his hips pressed forward against yours.

it was not surprising that it didn’t stop their, neither of you were stopping now that the ice had been broken.

the night concluding with your hands spread on the wall ahead of you as charles pounded you from behind, dress bunched around your waist and panties pulled aside.

“gotta be quiet mon amour,” he’d whispered into your ear after your moans continued to grow in volume ━ his hand then moving to your jaw, sliding two fingers past your lips to shut you up.

you would’ve died happily in that moment, moments away from the best orgasm of your life.

no matter what happened, you wouldn’t be regretting it.

and I break down, then he's pullin' me in

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

you hadn’t seen charles since that night in monaco.

he’d left for maranello not too long after, then you spent the rest of break in america; the season approaching relatively quickly.

messages were swapped, but nothing more.

testing was hectic, you didn’t get to see him or spend time with him even if you wanted too.

you weren’t sure you wanted to however. you missed him, that had been mutually expressed over text. but both you and he were scared; unsure how to navigate what happens now.

because unfortunately the circumstances hadn’t changed, you’d just gotten a taste of one another.

by the time it was raceday at bahrain, all excitement for the start of the season had left your body.

thursday set the tone; all your hard work, months of avoidance and deprival ━ it suddenly meant nothing.

you first caught wind of such in the press conference, sat alongside max, lewis, lando, carlos and alex.

when you finally got asked a question, your breath got stuck in your throat.

“did you enjoy your winter break? a new trainer in charles it seems?”

the question was posed so innocently, you knew the tone. the cheery and amused light heartedness to mask the undertones; it was accusing. you knew it was; any girl would get it.

you knew photos were circulating of you and charles running around monaco, but that wasn’t an issue. there were photos of you and daniel out for lunch as well. ones of you and toto exchanging hello’s.

what a headline; you got along with people you worked with.

“uh yeah,” you laughed off; biting your tongue, like usual. you knew when to pick your battles. “i’m no good at padel so, stuck to running.” you hummed, left to watch as the journalist nodded almost unconvinced.

it was a sinking feeling; they knew, everyone knew. it’d somehow got out. that you’d slept together. paranoia; you had to remind yourself. they couldn’t know.

“is it difficult to have relations off track with competitors?” he was looking you dead in the eye as he posed another question to you, and it hit a nerve.

you shifted ever so slightly in your seat. you hadn’t faced these sort of questions since your rookie year, when journalists didn’t realise what they should and shouldn’t imply.

you had to hold back a scoff; biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“is that a question for all of us or just me?” you practically challenged, and the awkwardness that fell over the room only had the pit in your stomach growing.

it was as if they all knew something you didn’t.

that was all you were asked, all you could think about as you sat on the couch, itching to get out of this damn room.

but that was just the start.

entering the haas hospitality your gut feeling made sense when you were faced with the entirety of the press team awaiting you.

granted, the press team was only four people. but you only ever really dealt with your own press officer if it was without warning.

the whole conversation was a blur, you felt sick the moment it begun.

‘we need to have a meeting,’

‘there’s photos of you and leclerc,’

‘damming to your reputation. our reputation,’

‘unacceptable behaviour and a breach of contract,’

‘negotiating to not let mainstream media run with it,’

‘we’re opening our own private investigation.’

you were being spoken at, no room to reply, no ounce of sympathy. you could feel the disgust as they spoke. as if you’d actually done something wrong.

“investigation?” you repeated in confusion, bewildered as you glanced between the lot of them.

you didn’t know what to say. or do.

deny? beg them to cover it up? apologise?

you felt like that 13 year old girl again, that anything you said wouldn’t matter. keeping your mouth shut as they broke out in chatter again.

short. blunt. your own press officer not even sticking around as they the dispersed, even mentioning that gene would probably be calling later.

you felt like you were going to throw up the moment you got into the privacy of your drivers room, it only taking a few seconds to find the photos flooding your timeline.

monaco. it was undeniable. it was definitely him, definitely you, kissing.

you held back your tears, determined to not let the comments ruin you. your press teams words lingering, but you pushed them back.

the day dragged, you were on edge; one wrong move and an on pour of tears would arise to the surface. just needed to wait till you were in the privacy of your hotel room.

these people would not see you cry.

you hadn’t expected the cold shoulder from your own team. but it was your manager that was the tip of the iceberg.

you hadn’t seen him all day, a close friend you’d consider him, he’d been with you since f3.

“where have you been?” you breathed as you climbed into the car, more than relieved to be leaving the track. and hopefully every conversation that was had.

“cleaning your mess.” he’d muttered in annoyance, and you couldn’t help but shake your head as your jaw clenched.

“not you too,” it was an attempt of a joke, head resting against the window. “don’t know why people are acting like i shared the teams 3 year plan with the enemy,” you huffed.

but you were only met with silence, causing your eyes to glance to your manager who was focused on his laptop in his lap.

“i mean it jason. the way i was treated today was━” you began to speak up at his silence, anger was easier than the self pity.

“what did you expect?” his question was venomous, shutting you up quickly as you stared at him with a slack jaw. it took a few moments to process, how he was on side with them.

or more importantly, not on your side. the guy who you pay to be on your side.

“for my personal life to remain personal.” you spoke like it was obvious.

you had feared this, yes, but that didn’t mean it was right. maybe you held onto hope your lack of faith in the world was misplaced. but everyone was proving you right.

he shook his head simply, so disappointingly you had to laugh, eyes gazing back out the window as you rapidly approached the hotel.

“i thought you didn’t want to be known for this.” his comment was a throw away one, but it cut you deep. his insinuation one he knew would sting, so you didn’t hide the fact it did.

“known for what?” you spoke through gritted teeth; if he wanted to insult you he better not half ass it.

there was moment of silence, hesitance; but not long enough.

“sleeping around.” he shrugged, still typing away on his computer. “great way to halt contract talks. i mean come on y/n,” he groaned.

you weren’t sure if he was right, you’d like to think your talent would over shine paddock gossip. but if he was right, the problem should lie with teams misogyny. not your sex life.

you highly doubt ferarri will hesitate resigning charles because of the matter.

you didn’t say another word, not trusting your voice; it was too much. felt like you were being attacked from every angle. ambushed even.

you’d slammed the door the moment you got out the car, urgently getting inside the hotel; managing to find the elevator through blurry eyes, tears threatening to spill.

almost there.

the elevator ride was testing, the silence made your short breaths and sniffles hard to ignore as you tiptoed on the line of breaking.

the final straw however, was charles himself leaving his hotel room as you navigated your way to yours.

your name had never sounded so delicate coming from his lips, as if he knew that you were fragile, sympathetic eyes as he took a few steps towards you.

“don’t━” you breathed out, voice breaking on you before you could say his name. your hand raising to tell him to stay where he was.

the first tear fell, silently.

“i’m so sorry,” he breathed out; cautiously stepping forwards despite your action. it broke him, the sight of you. he’d never seen you so upset.

overjoyed, pissed off, ecstatic, confused, riled up; he’d seen it all. but never had he seen you cry.

“you’re the last person i want to see right now.” you managed to get out.

lie.

complete lie, but unfortunately once more he was an easy target. the face of today’s events and the reason for fractures in practically every professional relationship you’d formed over the years.

charles didn’t take your words to heart, watching as you fumbled to find your room key; your shaky hands had him frowning, behind you now as he grabbed your arm when you took a step inside.

“please,” charles sighed; desperate for you to let him help. let him comfort you. he felt responsible, but it wasn’t guilt that was pushing him towards you.

just the need to ensure you were okay.

he’d barely received a slap on the wrist. told by his press team to ‘be more careful next time.’ and reminded issues would arise if talks of strategy and racing came to light.

that was that. his day went on. he almost got ahead of himself, optimistic the day could end with him showing up at your door to tell you that you never had anything to worry about.

but word spread quickly in the paddock, and charles caught onto the double standards incredibly quickly with how you were being spoken about in comparison to him.

you didn’t trust your voice once more, simply shaking your head ‘no’ as you got inside, attempting to shake his grasp.

he didn’t let you however, which was almost a relief.

the door shut behind the pair of you, charles tugging you towards his chest immediately.

you had no more strength, no fight left; simply letting him do so as the tears poured.

your head met his chest, arms clinging to his shirt as his arms went around you; holding you close as he mumbled encouraging words.

he felt like a safe place, allowing you to be weak and vulnerable with no fear for the first time in a long time.

quiet sobs and sniffles escaped you as you shook in his hold. it wasn’t just a days worth of torment, no, but all the other shit you put up with from the start of your career.

charles wasn’t sure what to say, just that it’d be okay. let it out. i’ve got you.

his hand was running through your hair delicately, and you somehow register the multiple kisses he pressed to the top of your head; such subtle actions that managed to slow your heart rate.

“i’m so sorry,” charles words were whispered, it was what brought you out of your own head; teary eyed peering up at him as you shook your head.

this wasn’t his fault.

“not your fault,” you spoke through a deep breath, starting to gain your composure. still timid, but you’d gotten the tears out.

“it’s not yours either.” charles spoke in certainty, sounding pissed off. because he was. and it made your stomach flip.

it was the bare minimum, but hearing someone be in your corner was exactly what you needed. the fact it was charles was just a bonus.

“i mean it’s more my fault than yours. i didn’t leave you alone, putain, i am sorry,” he began to ramble. the guilt was eating him alive. you’d tried to avoid this ━ he couldn’t help but feel as if he threw you into the lions den.

you disagreed however. deep down, this all felt inevitable. like it was a matter of when, not if. you were so scared of this happening because apart of you knew there was no avoiding it.

“i don’t regret it.” you told him in certainty, hand moving to cup his cheek; offering a sad smile. “it’s just━ not fair.” you mumbled.

his smile mirrored yours, lacking the usual brightness it held as thumb lifted to your cheeks; brushing away the tears staining your skin.

“it’s gonna be okay. i’ll fix this.” charles promised, but it wasn’t a promise he could keep. you knew that, your head tilting aside as you sighed.

his intentions were pure, held your best interest at heart.

“m’ just gonna have to let it blow over.” you told him, taking a sharp inhale. that didn’t answer the question that lingered between the pair of you.

what this was. what you two were.

he nodded ever so slightly, frustration growing at the fact he couldn’t fix it himself. he wanted to help. to rid you both of the outside noise and judgmental opinions.

“but i think━” you’d cut yourself off, you didn’t want to say it.

he knew however, by the way your grip had tightened on his shirt. the way your eyes held sympathy and sorrow. he knew what you were going to say.

“i know,” charles sighed; nodding in reassurance.

this needed to stop. whatever this was, it couldn’t go further. not for now at least; charles knew that.

rumours won’t die down if there is still truth to them.

your bottom lip quivered slightly at the sight of the sad smile he showed you; the way he was so willing to comply.

you hated the fact you both had to suffer, all for what?

“i’ll stay away, i promise,” charles hummed; biting down on the inside of his cheek as he ran his fingers through your hair once more.

you still had no words, because it was the last thing you wanted. yet somehow was what you needed.

you’d like to say to hell with it, to tell him you didn’t care. that you could be together, and figure out the latter.

but today had been hell; you weren’t sure it was something you could get used too.

“thank you,” you whispered out; charles only response was pulling you close once more, knowing when he let you go, it would be for good.

he had to let you go.

but if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us

if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once

charles stayed true to his word.

it was obvious, the way you two steered clear of each other.

talk of you and him died down, the paddock found something else to focus on within a couple weeks; and it was just another story for the history books that would be brought up every now and then.

their was awkwardness in the team however.

their investigation closed with no findings, something you laughed at.

a motivator; to get the fuck out of there.

it paid off, comfortably beating your teammate. dragging the car into the points most weeks.

talks with mercedes was going well, progressing nicely ━ you wanted to emphasise to your manager that charles hadn’t been mentioned once from them either.

but you weren’t going to dwell on the past.

not audibly at least.

charles was a sacrifice you hated making, and it was mutual.

it was cruel, the way you were too scared to meet his eye if cameras were around. scared one wrong move and you’d be jumped on by prying eyes and gossipers.

charles too shared your fear; he didn’t want to put you in a compromising position. and while it was physically painful to cut you off completely, he managed.

none was easier than some, it seemed.

it was laughable, how the pair of you actually believed the avoidance would stick this time. that it would actually work.

couldn’t even make it to summer break, a few months apart was bound to be all you could endure.

monaco, a race you’ll never forget.

your signing with mercedes was announced on the thursday; a milestone in your career, a highlight.

you were ecstatic, nay-sayers and doubters did little to dull your mood ━ nothing would ruin such an achievement.

but it motivated you.

you heard it all before, when you signed with haas. how it was a PR move, not on merit. for the money you would bring in. the commercial value.

it was the same thing, and the need to prove people wrong was always a blessing when you got in the car.

it’d been a wet qualifying, playing into your favour. putting the car into p3 meant everything would’ve had fallen into place. and it did.

you were overjoyed, the smile had not been wiped off your face. you were proving that contract was yours based off your talent.

you went on to hold onto p3 in the race and secure a podium, you were high off adrenaline and excitement the moment you got out of the car.

you’d handled the pressure, failed to make a mistake; blessed to have had your best qualifying at the hardest place to overtake.

the other headline of the weekend?

charles had finally won his home race.

he wasn’t on your mind, not as you shared the podium. or as you faced the media together afterwards.

you cared deeply for charles, but this was your childhood dream. years worth of hard-work had finally paid off. being near him wasn’t hard, for once, because you had way too many things to currently be happy about.

it was civi and casual, friendly; in the cool down room, on the podium; in the interview.

it wasn’t until later that night, on a random super-yacht, surrounded by drunken socialites and f1 personalities that temptation reached you once more.

you’d barely had a drink, being pulled in every way and direction; talking to many that you didn’t have time to sip the half full glass in your hand.

charles knew this; he’d been watching you all night.

his dream had come true, winning in monaco; in front of his home fans.

call him greedy for wanting more as he stood on the yacht, surrounded by his friends as his eyes settled on you.

he couldn’t help but think of the only way to make this night perfect; you.

the praise and congratulations from everyone else was nice, but he was dying to hear it from you.

to congratulate you as well. on your podium. on your contract.

he thought he was over it, the unfairness of it all. but this was a new challenge.

watching as you stood there, hugging everyone. beaming and laughing, as you should.

would it be so wrong for him to congratulate you as well? to steal a couple minutes of your time? he’d promised to stay away, but this had to be an exception.

right?

so charles went against his word, weaving through the crowd the moment you caught a break in conversations.

uncharacteristically dismissing those who tried to speak to him as he set on his way towards you, nothing would stop him.

“hey,” charles made his presence known; capturing your attention; and the way your eyes lit up and lips curved upwards, he wanted to kill whoever had deprived him of such sight for however many months.

“hi!” you couldn’t help but sound surprised, pleasantly surprised.

you’d been wanting to talk to him; which wasn’t anything new. needing to talk to him however, just unsure how to navigate such thing.

“congratulations. sure you’ve heard it all, but you deserve this.” charles words were genuine; smiling down at you proudly, and while you had heard it all the past couple hours; it meant more coming from him. “the contract as well. huge news,” he added.

your nose scrunched up slightly, grinning ━ pure happiness present because you really were oh so happy.

“thank you,” you smiled; nodding appreciatively. “i should say the same to you. i know how much this win means to you,” you spoke; and charles could only smile at the way you sounded so sincere.

“thank you,” his turn to offer thanks, a silence falling over the pair of you.

that was all you should say, all you were sure was excusable.

it was clear, the way you both had so much on the tip of your tongue; too scared to let it out. neither wanting to be the one to crack. to undone all the hard work.

charles so desperately wanted to rant his heart out, remind both you and himself that the past few months had been undeserved torture. and he was convinced he was going to for a moment.

but he couldn’t. he wouldn’t be selfish with you.

“well i’ll see you━” charles had cleared his throat, ready to do the right thing. to walk away, like he promised he would.

but you cut him off. scared if you didn’t tell him now, you never would.

“wait.” you interrupted, pursing your lips; and he was happy to shut up. he didn’t need any convincing to stay put.

“i uh, with my mercedes contract…” you trailed off; biting your lip. “i made it clear, what expectations would be of me. on and off track, obviously. like anyone would,” you rambled slightly; nervously even.

charles wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you nervous.

you were nervous because of what you were implying.

you’d made it clear you didn’t want to be held to any individual expectations off track, that your relations with others wouldn’t concern the team if it didn’t jeopardise the team.

you were grateful, how understanding mercedes were. a breath of fresh air really. so much you’d basically outright told them that you didn’t want you and charles to be an issue, if anything were to arise between the pair of you.

you’d figured if you had a team that backed you, handling outside noise and assumptions would be made a lot easier.

“me and you, it wouldn’t be an issue.” you summed up; practically spitting it out. it felt weird, suddenly lacking confidence as you referenced a ‘you and him.’ worried that ship had sailed.

you watched as his eyebrows raised, lips parting in surprise.

he hadn’t expected you to say such thing, the one thing he’d dreamt of you saying one too many times.

“if that uh, you know. ever happens, i don’t know,” you added on; feeling the need to back pedal, not wanting to come off headstrong. it was the reason for your hesitance. you and charles had never discussed what you were, because it never seemed possible.

charles wasn’t sure what to say. his first instinct was to kiss you; because it seemed as if this was the best night of his life, with all his hopes and dreams coming true.

but his care for you trumped all.

“people will still talk,” he couldn’t help but remind softly. not to argue against you, but to ensure you knew exactly what you were implying. he knew the rush you were feeling, first podium. fresh off multiple highs, he didn’t want you to come crashing down tomorrow and regret these words tonight.

he didn’t know you’d already assessed all your options, weighed up the two cons. your mind had been made up, you just needed to bite the bullet.

you’d already been through it, called every name in the book. may as well make it all for something.

“let them.” you breathed out, a shy smile following suit, mischievous almost, quoting him from that night in vegas. you’d said it with confidence, such conviction he knew you meant it.

his smile was bright, practically beaming at you as he nodded. unsure what to do next, but he didn’t care. he liked the way things were looking.

he hadn’t expected you to kiss him, in the middle of the crowded floor, but god he wasn’t complaining ━ hands finding the small of your back as yours wrapped around his neck.

you’d pulled away shortly afterwards, not creating any distance as your foreheads touched.

“if you still want this of course,” you spoke; just above a whisper, realising you hadn’t really let him confirm he still wanted this.

he’d laughed, at the idea alone he didn’t. shaking his head at the thought as he brought his hand up to cup your face.

“all i could think about tonight, was that the only thing that would make today truely perfect, would be sharing it with you.” charles confessed; taking in the way you lit up at his words, watching as any last doubts or fears vanished from your frame.

you were relaxed, happy and carefree; not one bit of energy spent on anyone around you. who saw, who cared; it meant nothing to you.

you giggled as you pressed your lips to his again, passionately this time; charles leaning over you as he held your body close to his, smiling against your pink lips.

it felt incredibly cliche, as if you were the only two people on the yacht in the moment.

he’d murmured something about getting out of here only moments later, you being quick to agree.

patience was something you’d both demonstrated incredibly well over the last year; safe to say you both had none left to spare.

navigating the crowd hand in hand almost felt like a rush, relieving to not care as you followed him off the yacht; giddy like teenagers as you climbed into the back of a car.

he’d barely gotten his address out before you were on him again, lips pressed against his as you gripped his shirt.

charles hand tangled in your hair, revelling in the way your lips felt against his. he’d spent many nights recounting your night together; attempting to cling to the feeling and pleasure it brought. this was ten times better than what his imagination could produce.

the only time you kept your hands off him was the short walk from the car to the elevator of his apartment complex, the moment the doors slid shut you found yourself pressed against the wall ━ his hands gripping your hips and lips attacking your neck.

you became breathless quickly, satisfied hums escaping you; head tilting back to give him as much access as he wanted.

“have i ever told you how beautiful you are mon ange,” charles sighed against your skin; only lifting his head when he heard the doors ring open.

you smiled at him stupidly, taking in the sight. his pretty green eyes, slightly swollen lips and tussled hair. more beautiful than anything you’d ever seen before.

“come on,” you mused with a blush, urging him to head to his room; in quick pursuit.

you’d barley gotten your heels off once inside when charles was snaking his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up as your legs wrapped around his waist.

it didn’t feel really; finally able to have you like this.

“gonna make you feel so good,” charles murmured against your lips as he navigated his way through the apartment, hands squeezing your ass which granted a gasp from you. “deserve so much more than a quickie in the bathroom,” he commented.

while your first time together was more than satisfying, it was rushed. muffled moans and chasing release desperately with fear the moment could’ve been ruined in any moment.

tonight you were all his. no need to keep you quiet, no limit to the positions he could put you in.

he sat at the end of his bed; you not taking long to get comfortable in his lap as your lips moved roughly against his; hips grinding as you did so.

“you won,” you breathed out as you shifted your attention up his jaw, teeth catching his ear momentarily as you kissed at the skin of his neck. “let me make you feel good,” you whispered; charles head tilting back as he audibly groaned. “you deserve it,”

charles always loved praise, his ego thrived on it. but god, hearing it from you? his pants were feeling way too tight.

he couldn’t say no to you, not that’d he’d ever want too.

you didn’t give him any time to reply regardless, climbing off his lap and standing between his legs momentarily, hands holding onto his knees as you pressed one lingering kiss to his lips.

sinking to your knees, you were incredibly eager. a scenario you’d play out too many times as your hands got to work in freeing his cock.

charles lips parted as he rested back on his hands, head tilted downwards as he watched you intently ━ biting down on the inside of his cheek at the sight alone.

his breaths only got heavier as you spat in your hand and jacked him off a couple times, hissing as your thumb rolled over his tip.

the sight was better than you could imagine, as you took him in your mouth and watched his head fall back. his clenched jaw, neck muscles and arms flexing as he groaned.

it had your thighs clenching together, not wasting time in bobbing your head; taking as much of him as you could; hitting the back of your throat each time but it did little to deter you.

“putain,” charles grunted under his breath ━ forcing himself to tilt his head back down to watch you work, hand gathering your hair in a makeshift pony tail. and the way his lips curved into a smirk when your eyes met his had your thighs clenching once more.

“there you go pretty girl, taking me so well,” charles huffed ━ noting the way you gagged around him every now and then, yet showed no signs of slowing down. “mouth is fucking heaven,”

his praise only encouraged you further, doe eyes staring up at him through your lashes; tears welling in your eyes.

your hand was holding his thigh for support, watchinf as he busied himself momentarily by ridding himself of his shirt ━ revealing his toned torso flexing with each sharp breath he took.

“pull your dress down,” his words were direct, a clear demand and with him staring down at you like he was ready to ruin you, you didn’t need to be told twice. tugging your dress down to free your breasts.

his admiring eyes raked your body shamelessly, pleasure only increasing from the sight. you were fucking perfect, and he couldn’t believe this was real.

it was as if you caught on to the moment, reading him perfectly as your efforts picked up ━ keen to make him cum.

and by the way he was starting to tug on your hair, you knew he was close.

he came in your mouth moments later with little warning, and you were practically squirming in your place as you licked him clean.

“you’re perfect,” charles breathed after catching his breath, which happened incredibly quickly; signalling you to climb back into his lap.

you giggled as you did so, grinning as you pressed your lips to his once more; straddling him with ease as your hands spread across his toned chest ━ happy to touch him now that he was back in reach.

his hand moved up your leg, pushing your panties aside and cupping your cunt with little warning; causing you to moan into his mouth.

“you’re fucking soaked,” charles spoke, pulling back to watch your face contort in pleasure; watch as you became putty in his hold. “barely touched you yet baby,” he cooed ━ you couldn’t help but whine, hips bucking against his hand as he circled your clit.

he took in every feature on your pretty face, able to live in the moment and not be rushed like last time. make you feel everything he wanted you too.

“who would’ve guessed you were such a slut,” charles mused; practically toying with you. he couldn’t help himself, not when you looked so pretty panting and whimpering in his lap.

“for you.” you whimpered, hand gripping his bicep tightly as your hips moved against his hand; yearning for more.

he grinned widely at that, rewarding your words as a finger pushed past your folds unexpectedly.

“all for me.” charles hummed in agreement, words still slightly breathless himself as his other hand moved to cup the side of your face, making avoiding his eyes impossible. “all mine.”

the statement had your stomach flipping, words you could used to. something you’d know a long time, but hearing it out loud was so refreshing.

you were his. he was yours.

“please charles,” you whined out impatiently, his toying with your cunt felt good; but you need more, your thighs a painted mess along with his hand by now.

your plea had him hardening again, words sounding so alluring coming from your lips.

“what do you want mon amour?” charles spoke through a breath, eyes gazing over you as if you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. because you were. “tell me, i’ll give it to you,” he promised; thumb grazing your cheek; such a delicate action that didn’t correlate with his thumb teasing your clit expertly.

you whimpered again, cheeks a tint of pink as your eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but they found charles gaze once more.

“all of you,” you spoke. “wanna feel you,” you sighed; his cock was pressing against your inner thigh ━ not helping with the urge to feel him inside you.

his lips curved upwards, pleased with your answer; and unable to deny himself any longer either. you’d both been through enough torture, he wouldn’t be delaying this any longer.

“want me to fuck you yeah?” charles paraphrased for you, hand leaving your cunt to find your waist; lifting you off his lap with ease and laying you beside him.

he was hovering over you within seconds, leaving you to nod eagerly below him. your hands found the hem of your dress, tugging it up and over your head as if that would help entice him.

but he didn’t need any help; he doesn’t think he’d last another second without being inside you.

he slid inside you without another word, your gasps intertwining as your own head fell back against his pillow; eyes fluttering shut at the stretch.

he gave you a moment to adjust, his head falling into the crook of your neck; light kisses peppered on your skin, a contrast to the way he was about to fuck you.

your hands tugging on his hair told him you wanted more; thrusting into you slowly and deeply at first, your mouth fell agape at the angle it hit ━ moans beginning to fall from your lips.

“charles, fuck,” you mumbled ━ fingers moving down his back, sure to leave marks as he gradually picked up the pace.

his thrusts got quicker, but not softer; fucking you into the mattress, all you could do was whimper and moan ━ eyes rolling back at the pleasuring sensation.

“so perfect for me,” charles grunted; the way you were squeezing him was better than he remembered, keeping his focus on your own pleasure because if not, he’d probably cum within moments.

“oh my god,” you all but practically squealed when he moved your leg over his shoulder, feeling as if he was splitting you open; you bit down on your lip to try shut up the now constant sounds.

charles wasn’t having a bar of it however.

“ah, ah,” charles breathed; hand moving to tap your cheek. “wanna hear you gorgeous girl. every fucking sound,” charles told you; eyes pouring into yours which made it clear he wasn’t joking.

you nodded weakly, on cue charles delivering a harsher thrust that had you choking out a moan once more.

it didn’t take long, for you to get brought to the edge; stomach growing tight as your eyes rolled back once more. cumming without warning, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling.

a moment of weakness for charles, watching as you shook beneath him and screamed his name; squeezing him suddenly, he almost came too. he didn’t though thankfully, because his focus was still you.

you weren’t prepared for him to not relent, instead feeling his hand snake between your bodies and find your clit, eyes flying open.

“o-oh,” you gasped, the onslaught of pleasure hard to cope with as your hands gripped onto his back tightly, nails digging into his skin as he smirked down at you.

“take it baby,” charles grunted; eyebrows raising momentarily. “too much?” his question was teasing, and he couldn’t help the breathy chuckle when you shook your head; scared he’d stop. you didn’t want him to stop.

you weren’t sure you could take it, but you were going to try. you’d do anything for him when he was touching you like this.

“so good,” you moaned; tears welling in your eyes quickly from the overstimulation, body jolting with every thrust which hadn’t relented.

his stamina impressive, having not slowed down nor gotten sloppy as he pounded into you.

you were struggling to keep your eyes open now, lost in the pleasure. but charles wanted to watch you, and wanted you to watch him as you pushed you over the edge once more.

“look at me baby,” charles grunted; pinching your clit lightly which had your eyes flying open, meeting his. “gonna watch me as you cum again yeah?” charles told you, his own breaths heavier now as he struggled to not let himself revel in the feeling of you.

you nodded, again, like a broken record; all your effort focused on watching him as your face contorted in pleasure. maybe even a tear or two fell, the familiar feeling washing over you again suddenly as he delivered another harsh thrust. and another. and suddenly it was as if he found new energy somewhere.

you all but screamed his name as you came again suddenly, coming undone on his cock. he was close behind, unable to resist with the way your walls squeezed him again.

your heavy breaths filled the room as charles helped you both ride out your highs, before sliding out of you, he remained above you regardless.

he was looking at you in awe, hand pushing some of your hair away that had gotten stuck to your forehead, earning a lazy smile from you in return.

“i could get used to that,” your words broke the silence; eyes flickering to his lips which gave charles the hint to place a kiss on your lips, a delicate one unlike those shared earlier.

he’d chuckled at your words afterwards, humming in agreement as his hand ran up and down your side comfortingly.

“me too,” charles agreed with a grin; pressing yet another kiss to your lips, a longer one this time; passionate and slow. enjoying the moment. the peace of it all.

when you pulled away moments later, you practically beamed as you urged him off of you; moving to straddle him instead.

you had a lot of time to make up for.

━━━━━

a/n: oh she’s bACK BACK CHARLES FIC YAY

hope u liked, still rusty lol i don’t rlly like the smut but i did enjoy writing the angst hehe

unedited sorry i’ll get to that later like usual oOps

as always feedback is always greatly encouraged and appreciated, means the world to me so pls share ur thoughts 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

luv u all !!!!!!!

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 3

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

Standing up on the podium, not being able to do anything as you watched Oscar run off was torture. You had to stay there while your national anthem played that should have been amazing considering it was you, Lewis and Lando all up there together.

And of course, there were no breaks for you afterwards. Everyone wanted you, from SkySports, to F1, to Netflix. Everyone was throwing questions at you and asking how different your achievements feel now knowing that your the first woman to have completed many of them.

You were fine answering them, because like they said. All of your previous achievements were now bigger than they were as Ghost. People could tell that you weren't fully with them, you were a little spacey and sometimes struggled with hearing and answering the questions.

Most of them put it down to the post race fuzz of the win and revealing who you were, but upon getting to the Sky Sports Team who consisted of Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg, Natalie Pinkham and Danica Patrick questions turned sour.

"So Y/N aside from racing we caught light of Oscar Piastri's quick depart after the reveal, any insight on this?" Danica asks, making you look down.

"I don't think these questions are necessary" Jenson says just as the Red Bull PR manager was about to ask for racing related questions only.

"Yes please stick to racing questions only" the Red Bull PR backs up, nodding before taking a step back. You look back up, straight to Nico who had a soft look on his face.

"I'm just interested, you raced for Alpine last year when he was a reserve driver... for Alpine and you've been promoted to Red Bull this year while Piastri's made the move to Mclaren. Can't help but wonder if its underlying sexism that's made him this mad, you all cant deny he was blunt and rude in his interview with us earlier" Danica pushes and you head snaps up. You feel a hand on your shoulder as if to stop you from what your about to say but you go ahead anyway.

"I've hurt a dear friend. So how dare you stand there and try to victimize me, when he is the one that I've hurt. He knew me as Ghost's assistant and media manager... we were close and I've not been truthful to him for obvious reasons. So don't stand there and try to make him out to be a misogynistic twat when he isn't. I don't know what you experienced in NASCAR Danica but in F1 all I've experienced today is love and support. Just because your sport sucks doesn't mean mine does" you snap, and recoil shocked that you'd just said all of that. She looks at you also in shock, Jenson and Nico were trying to stop their laughter.

"Well, some strong opinions there from Y/N Y/L/N" Jenson says as he watches you turn away and walk off. You were done with interviews for the day. You just wanted to find Oscar and talk to him now.

"Lando! Lando" you shout as you see the curly haired boy ahead of you walking into the Mclaren motorhome.

"Hey, Y/N or should i say Ghost" he smiles before pulling you into a hug.

"I was not expecting that bombshell today, and I will admit I'm sorry for assuming you were some ugly guy... your very obviously not" he laughs.

"Where's Oscar" you ask, you didn't want to seem rude but of course he was your priority right now.

"Y/N, I don't think its a good idea to see him right now. I think maybe just wait for him to come to you. He's upset and" he starts but you look him dead in the eye.

"He upset me too, he just ran off... at my first race win" you say as selfish as it was... but he also ruined that experience for you.

"I know, but you did like lie to him for just under 2 years" Lando says softly not wanting to rattle your already unstable cage of self hatred.

"And what was i supposed to do Lando, tell him a secret that Red Bull had me sign an NDA over and break my contract and risk loosing my seat?" you ask, hoping he would start to understand.

"Look Y/N you really should go..." Lando pushes looking around the area you were currently in. He put a hand on your lower back as to guide you back out, but you planted yourself still.

"No, I'm not leaving till i talk to him" you grunt.

"Y/N I'm telling you this as your friend and your co-worker. You need to go" he says, you'd actually never seen his eyes this serious before and it had your head cocking to the side in confusion.

As your about to ask him why the hell he's being so twitchy, two people stumble out of the next room a little disheveled and both laughing. You eyes lock on them.

"O-Oscar?" you ask in shock, the girl looks up at him confused and his face turns red but also a sour expression comes onto his face.

Before any of them can say anything your turning away from them, everything feels slow motion, all the voices around you blur and your heartbeat comes erratic.

You couldn't understand why it hurt so much, the thought of him not even for a moment being happy for you up on a podium that he come here to be with some other girl ... or was it because in the time you'd spent with him you'd fallen for the racer.

You round the corner, stumbling behind the Mclaren motorhome so that you could just breath. You crouch down, your head leaning back against the side.

"Fucks sake" you say to yourself, once you'd calmed yourself from the initial shock you fully sat down on the metal edging outside the Mclaren motorhome.

"Y/N?" you hear a voice ask, your head peaks up and you spot Alex and Logan.

"Oh, hey guys. Great Race today!" you smile.

"Why are you just sat outside the Mclaren motorhome?" Logan asks raising an eyebrow at you.

"Oh, erm no reason. I just got lost on my way back to Red Bull" you smile standing up and walking to the long strip and turning left.

"Your still clearly lost, Red Bull's that way" Alex says pointing to the right hand side, that you weren't facing.

"Right, yeah i knew that" you smile, turning round and scuttering off the other way.

To say that the UK was the start of something spectacular was an understatement. You didn't go out and celebrate that night, you stayed in with your family.

The next race was Hungary where you proceeded to take the win away from Max in the last 3 laps, being on the fresher tires. They asked you to let Max take the win but you begged for them to let you fight it out. You shared the podium with Max and Lando, in Spa you came second, sharing the podium with Max and Charles and in The Netherlands you came 4th.

Throughout all of this Oscar hadn't reached out to you. You'd kept in contact with Lando, asking how he was and what had been going on. However Monza changed things.

An article came out about an interview Oscar had done about you and how you hadn't spoken to him since. He hadn't spoken very nicely about you when all you'd done was stick up for him. You guys got into a massive argument outside the garages that of course people caught on camera.

You had a really bad qualifying, the car just didn't have pace and your mind wasn't in the right place. So you were starting P14 on the grid, after a cry to Christian that you were so overwhelmed and him assuring you that it was today that really mattered.

You had turned off everything when you got in the car on the Sunday. No thoughts in your head just the racing. On the start you managed to get yourself to P12 overtaking Liam and Nico right of the bat.

"Excellent start Y/N lets keep pushing"

Martin Bundle - I have to say that Y/N is incredible with these races where she starts down in the back of the grid, and she gets those amazing starts where she slips in the middle of the two drivers ahead and is able to confidently get herself up too places

"Okay, and Alonso are ahead, you have DRS" your engineer tells you, and you are able to overtake Yuki who doesn't go as aggressively into the chicane as you do. You have a little spin but recover enough to pull up aside Alonso on the straight, going for the overtake.

"Amazing Y/N, that's P10 right now. Keep pushing"

Eventually you were left fighting Carlos, Max clipped a tire and was now down in 4th fighting with Charles.

"Y/N this has been a fantastic race, from P14 up to P2, Carlos is 1.8 second ahead. Lets get him and bring home a double podium. Max is fighting for P3 right now. 5 laps to go" he advises.

"Tell him to speed up, I'll give him DRS we can overtake Sainz together so its a 1.2" you advise looking seeing the Ferrari behind you. You slow down on the hairpin, breaking early, which Charles didn't expect where he was concentrating on defending from Max. You speed up, watching as he spins out a little leaving room for Max on the inside.

"Okay, Sainz has sped up there's now a 2.6 second gap"

"Copy that" you say, Max was using your slip stream, but didn't go for the overtake, you easily defended from Charles together while gaining on the other Ferrari.

"Okay last two laps, Sainz, 0.3 second gap"

"Yeah i can fucking tell I'm riding his rear end" you say, the minute you get onto the straight you and Max both go either side of Sainz, sandwiching him in as your about to go into turn 11. He breaks early falling back leaving you to take the optimal racing line and get ahead of Max.

"Is Max fighting this last lap?" you ask.

"He's been told is free to fight. Mode push and bring us another win" your race engineer advises, you breeze through the final lap, it was a close call but you came first.

"Y/N Y/L/N winner of the 2023 Italian Grand Prix" your race engineer says a big grin coming onto your face as you flip up the visor holding your fist up as you see all the Red Bull crew cheering for you on the fencing.

"Where did Oscar place?" you ask, you hadnt thought about him up until now. Even as you passed the orange 81 car, it was just another car then.

"Not a good race for Piastri, P12 behind Lawson"

"Okay. Thank you for the great drive today. Thank you Christian" you say before preparing yourself for the podium.

Would Oscar be there?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Dandelion

Summary: You usually preferred the company of dragons to most people. The presence of a certain Targaryen prince threatens to upend your quiet life. Pairing: Soft dark!Aemond Targaryen/F!Reader (No Y/N, could be read as an unnamed OC)

Warnings: Familial abuse, negative self talk, canon typical violence, dub-con bordering on non-con, obsessive behavior, power imbalance, canon typical sexism. Please do not read if this will upset you. You are responsible for what you consume. NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: No Civil War AU! I will borrow a bit from other events that will eventually happen in ‘The Dance’ but I give them a different outcome because I do what I want. Reader is from an original Valyrian house and the only physical characteristics they have are purple eyes and silver hair. She is also a few years older than Aemond. Enjoy!

Word Count: 21k :)

You’d never been good at running. You were too slow. Too clumsy. Too self-sacrificing.

No.

You were terrible at running. You couldn’t outrun your brother as he swore and raged and tugged at your hair. You couldn’t outrun your mother’s prized stallions when they turned course toward you in the field. You couldn’t outrun your father when he saw the mess you’d tracked into your family’s manse alongside your sister.

But you were able to hide her in her rooms and take the blame for all of it. She was so small. She didn’t need to be hurt like that. You could take it, couldn’t you? If you were feeling brave, you’d take her hand in yours and sneak out to the rolling valley that was always spotted with wildflowers.

“Do you know that you can make wishes on dandelions?” Your sweet sister, Vaella, asked one day, holding a bunch of dandelions in her hand. Most of the stems had started to wilt in her too-tight childish grip. But you eased them out from between her fingers with a smile and let her tell you about the “magic” she had heard about from her friend, a little lady from House Tyrell. You righted the stems as best you could, smiling as you did. Wouldn’t that be nice? To blow away a few petals and have your wildest desires come to fruition?

“Shall we make a wish then?” You asked, holding out a few for her to take again. Her jagged little nails, something your mother always scolded her for, caught on your fingers and you tried not to hiss as you felt your skin give way beneath them. Blood bubbled to the surface as your sister quickly apologized over and over again even as you waved her off. “Make your wish!”

Vaella dutifully shut her eyes and then sucked in a deep breath before quickly blowing away all the dandelion seeds. You knew her wish, Seven knew she had told you about it enough: a kind, loving husband, with enough gold to rival kings.

You followed suit but frowned as you tried to find a wish worthy of asking. But, as you heard Vaella’s melodic giggles beside you, you knew. You tightened your blood-tinged fingers around the flowers. I wish for Vaella to have everything good and beautiful in this world.

Then you heard your father on his horse barreling toward you. You knew it would only hurt more if you tried to escape his wrath and you’d never outrun him anyway—your mother knew how to breed and train the fastest horses this side of the Red Mountains and Dorne.

So, no. You weren’t good at running. But you were almost decent at playing the part most everyone else wanted from you. You learned what to say and how to act to stymie your parents’ rage and your brother’s annoyance. You knew how to do your duties as a highborn lady who had a fortunate Valyrian bloodline. Your family had always been dragonkeepers. Even before The Doom, your family had tended to the dragons that had conquered most of Essos, knowing their likes and dislikes, calming and caring for the animals and their riders. It had been a noble profession then and it was a noble profession now. Of course, not all of your bloodline had taken up the mantle, but it was expected that at least one of every generation, no matter their gender, would take up the duties as the decades passed, even before the Dragonpit had been constructed.

Loyal to the Targaryens and their dragons. Always. (Even if your family had tried to dissuade to no avail the royal family from constructing the Pit, saying that the dragons were never meant to be caged so.)

Your family had been adamant about the Valyrian blood in their veins staying pure. When they tired of marrying Velaryons or Celtigars, and House Qoherys died out, they sought spouses from across the Narrow Sea, from Volantis and the Old Blood who could prove unbroken Valyrian ancestry, or from Lys, the city where Valyrian Blood was (said to be) strongest. But never a Targaryen. They had never asked and your family had never reached so high. You were servants to no one but the dragons and the Targaryens. Your allegiance and skillset had made your House wealthy beyond measure, it was only bolstered when accompanying Velaryons on foreign voyages or devising new money making schemes with the Celtigars. Advantageous marriages with dowries worthy of princesses helped, too.

Being a Keeper was a family tradition you couldn’t run from. And, if you were being honest, it was one of the few things about your family you did not resent. Your duties in The Pit kept you away from your father’s anger and your mother’s sneers. Your elder brother Rhogar’s duties in The Pit were easily circumvented and you knew enough to steer clear of him. You found purpose and camaraderie amongst the dragons and hatchlings. They could not speak, true, but they were your truest friends since your sister’s wish had come true and she had absconded to Volantis to live the life of a noblewoman of the Old Blood with her doting husband. It was a quiet life. But you knew better than to ask for more. You still wished for something on dandelions every time you had the chance. For a friend. For love. For the continued prospering of Vaella and her growing family on the other side of the Narrow Sea. You knew better than to wish for the love of your parents or brother. No amount of blood or dandelion magic would ever grant you that.

However, when the war with the Triarchy and the man known as the Crabfeeder proved enough of a problem that the conflict-averse King Viserys finally started to treat it as a war, you were happy to accept the summons to Dragonstone. There were a handful of dragons now roosting there, ready to be flown out by their riders to aid the Velaryon and royal fleets. After you arrived, you had been handpicked by Lady Laena Velaryon to care for Vhagar. It had been the honor of your life, alongside being Laena’s handmaiden for the day of her wedding to Prince Daemon. She had been a fierce warrior astride Vhagar, an even fiercer mother to her twins, Rhaena and Baela. She was not but a three namedays older than you but it might as well have been decades. She was so different from you. So poised and lovely and kind—and her family adored her. Her brother, Ser Laenor, whom you also saw frequently with his dragon Seasmoke, had named Rhaena the heir to Driftmark just after Baela had been betrothed to Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin Strong’s firstborn son, Prince Jacaerys. The celebration Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys had thrown to mark the occasion was lavish and lovely. You had wished upon three dandelions that night, wanting the best for Baela and Rhaena.

“One day,” Laena said to you, climbing down from Vhagar’s saddle as you held one of the twins’ hands in each of your own, “you will make a fine mother.”

“Someone will have to learn to stomach the scent of dragon if they want to bed me, my lady.” Not to mention that you were nearly considered an old maid already. You were sure the only reason you hadn’t been married off was because your parents hadn’t deemed you worthy of the dowry they’d once set aside for you. They’d prefer to keep their gold which you added to with each moon. And their repeated, cruel comments about how you’d never marry because of your looks, ‘horrid’ personality, and court ineptitude and made you believe you would be alone for the rest of your life, only accompanied by dragons.

Laena laughed and let her twins leap into her arms. “You are the blood of Old Valyria, my dear. Anyone would be lucky to have you, smell of dragon or no.”

She had been kind to you. Effortlessly, so.

Then, when she had been killed by a scorpion bolt fired by devotees to the Crabfeeder, your world tilted on its axis. The twins’ hatchlings, Morning and Moondancer, had cried and trilled for ages, feeling her riders’ grief in their small nests. They only rested on the short boat ride to Driftmark as they nestled in your hold. You did your best to help them, to make sure they fed, as Daemon tried to prepare for the rest of the royal family who were descending on Driftmark for the funeral. Daemon himself was a mess. How could he not be? Everyone who knew the couple saw how in love they had been. How in love Daemon was still. You’d heard whispers that Corlys had blamed Laena’s death on Daemon’s pride. The Rogue Prince had flown out to meet the Triarchy’s forces alone and Laena had been the only aerial defense to keep him safe. And, perhaps a small part of you believed that.

The night before their arrival, Vhagar finally landed back on the island. You’d heard whispers of how she had raged against the Triarchy’s fleet after feeling Laena’s death and watching Corlys pull her body from the water. The old dragon had nearly destroyed the entirety of the enemy’s fleet singlehandedly before disappearing into the clouds. But now?

You took careful, slow steps toward her as the moon continued to climb higher into the sky. Her giant head swiveled as you approached and she grumbled, shaking the ground beneath your feet, before she recognized your scent. Laying your hand to the near-scalding scales on her neck, you tried to press all the love you could manage into the touch, your sorrow, your calm. “I miss her, too,” you whispered in Valyrian. “But it is good to have you here.”

The old dragon gave another rumble and it almost broke your heart at how sad she sounded. How much heartbreak could one beast endure?

“We will get through this together, won’t we?”

**

You stood behind Baela and Rhaena and watched as ships with black and red sails docked. Morning and Moondancer were coiled around their shoulders, finally sleeping after a night filled with more crying and your desperate attempts to feed them. Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin disembarked first, followed by their sons, Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys. King Viserys followed soon after with his hand being held by his youngest, Prince Daeron. Queen Alicent was next with her other three children, Princess Helaena and Princes Aegon and Aemond, following closely. The family was greeted solemnly but warmly by the Velaryons and Targaryens—aside from the icy stares you saw thrown in Daemon’s direction by Princess Rhaenys, Lord Corlys, and Ser Laenor.

It would not be the first time you’d heard of troubles in the royal family. There had been rumors of a feud between Rhaenyra and Alicent after the latter’s marriage to Viserys. It had been quashed eventually, the pair falling back into their close bond soon after Alicent’s father, Otto, was dismissed from his position as Hand of the King and replaced with Princess Rhaenys. Apparently Otto had tried to convince Alicent that Rhaenyra would kill her friend’s children to keep her promised crown—which was preposterous because, even tucked away on Dragonstone, you’d heard how Rhaenyra had doted on her half siblings. You knew for a fact that it had been Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent together who had pushed for the new law which allowed daughters to inherit titles and lands. The princess had also been the one to pick the dragon eggs for each of their cradles, too. Only two had hatched, unfortunately. Aegon’s Sunfyre and Daeron’s Tessarion, but you had been told that Princess Helaena had claimed Dreamfyre just a few moons ago.

That left only Prince Aemond.

He was a few namedays older than the twins and offered them a small smile when he reached their side. His purple eyes flittered over to you for a moment and something passed over his face, something you could not name. But it was quickly over and he was offering a few hushed words of comfort to his cousins.

Princess Rhaenyra was the first to actually greet you, cradling her pregnant belly. “It has been some time, has it not, my lady?”

You managed to smile as you curtseyed. “It has. I hear Syrax is faring well; expecting another clutch soon, no?” You’d once been one of the half dozen of keepers tasked with the princess’ dragon and had been the most indulgent with Rhaenyra wanting to constantly be on dragonback despite the others knowing she was supposed to be humoring lords vying for her hand. You had also been the only one to be able to calm Syrax during Prince Jacaerys’ early birth while the Princess and her husband were visiting Dragonstone. Three other Keepers had perished, either burned or eaten, as the little prince was born but not you. You had calmed her. You had been the one to discover that Syrax had laid a clutch of eggs alongside her rider. The Princess had been kind and gracious when you told her of the news.

The Heir Apparent smiled, sweeping a hand over her stomach. “It is quite a blessing, truly.”

You continued to speak for a little longer, watching as Rhaena and Baela walked to their father’s side as he spoke to Alicent. Rhaenyra was just as pleasant as always. But, despite the important company, you heard something that nearly had you frowning.

“Who is that?” Aemond asked Baela. A quick glance to the side let you see the prince pointing at you.

Baela gave your name with a small smile, making sure to enunciate your House’s name, too. “She is Vhagar’s Keeper.”

The night continued and you were dismissed as the family gathered for supper. It was only when you were in the comfort of your chambers did you allow yourself to cry. Hot, giant tears slid down your face as you tried to muffle your sobs beneath your fingers. It felt like your ribs had cracked open to reveal your broken heart.

When you found little respite from your grief with sleep, you slipped out of your rooms and toward the shore where you knew Vhagar roosted for the night. She once again greeted you with a huff, nudging her head into your stomach and nearly bowling you over.

“I know,” you murmured, smoothing your hand down her dark scales. “Me too.” Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention and it took you a moment to realize it was Prince Aemond, trying unsuccessfully to sneak back into High Tide. His shoulders slumped when he caught your gaze and he dragged his feet to your side after you waved him over. “It is late to be out of doors, my prince.”

His mouth pulled into an even deeper frown. “I know, my lady. But you are out at this hour, too.”

You nodded, continuing to lathe attention on Vhagar. “I am not royalty. The Triarchy may have been pushed back to Essos, but it would still be deemed unwise to be without an escort for someone of your status.”

The young prince looked down at his feet, digging the toe of his fine leather boot into the sand. “I just wanted to see Vhagar. Uncle Daemon said she was the biggest dragon in the world.”

His boyish countenance had you softening. You could only imagine what it was like to be the last Targaryen without a dragon, a birthright. “She is. The last of the Conquerors’ dragons. Come, stand by me. She is tired now; she’s usually much more agreeable like this.”

Even in the dark, you saw Aemond’s entire face light up and he was quick to do as you instructed. He followed your quiet guidance to let Vhagar learn his scent before touching her, placing his hand beside yours. “She’s a beauty.”

You hummed and Vhagar shifted the slightest bit, the sand spitting beneath her giant body. “She is. A great and terrible beauty. And she mourns with the rest of you for Lady Laena.”

Aemond hummed in response and you watched his shoulders slump the slightest bit, as if he needed to be reminded of the loss his family had just suffered, or the reason why he’d been put on a boat and shuffled away from his home. He had been so enthralled with simply being near Vhagar. And you knew it was foolish of you to do anything of the sort, but you smiled and shielded his eyes when Vhagar took flight again, sending sand into the air.

“Come, I have something else to show you.”

The prince followed dutifully as you led him toward the small patch of grass near High Tide’s outer curtain. Small white and yellow flowers had sprouted not a few hours ago and you were quick to grab two. You were even quicker to grab a knife from your belt and cut across your thumb when he was not looking, instead tracking Vhagar across the sky. You let the crimson stain the flower’s stalk before handing it to him.

“This is a weed.”

You laughed at how he scrunched his nose as he stared at the flower. “There’s magic in those petals, my prince, just as there is magic in our blood, in our words. Trust me when I tell you that you will have a dragon one day. You need only wish for it and wait.”

Aemond’s face twisted, like he was ready for you to tease him, or laugh at him. But you simply held up your matching, blood-lined dandelion and blew its petals away into the ocean breeze. I wish for him to have a dragon and be happy. He watched you for a moment longer before, almost delicately, blowing the petals away to float alongside yours.

A light coming on in the fortress had you turning. Someone was probably looking for the prince. “It is time for you to retire, my prince.”

The young prince nodded as he turned to you, the pale moonlight bleeding across his silver hair. “I would have no other hands tend to my dragon.” His hands curled to fists at his side for a moment before releasing, as if he were scolding himself. “We are the Blood of Old Valyria.”

**

It had been nearly six years since you saw Aemond. Much had changed.

The war with the Triarchy had fizzled. It still lingered, of course. There were whispers that the Triarchy was attempting to hire any and every sellsword company in Essos but nothing had come of those whispers though. Not yet, anyway. Most of their forces had been pushed back (again) by Princesses Rhaenys and Rhaenyra while Prince Daemon and Ser Laenor destroyed their food and weapon stores in the Disputed Lands. It was not a surrender, unfortunately, but Westeros was thankful for the reprieve.

You had become Morning and Moondancer’s main keeper, too, your duties shifting after Vhagar disappeared into the clouds and didn’t return. It was a blow, to be sure, to lose another link to Laena even after you and the twins were moved permanently to Driftmark while Prince Daemon stayed to command the armies from Dragonstone while also flying to the Free Cities of Essos to try to broker alliances (some whispered that Prince Daemon took his nephew, Prince Aemond, alongside during his mission but you could never know for certain). But Baela and Rhaena were growing into their own and you were so happy to guide them, in any way they needed. Their dragons were now large enough to be ridden for short distances and you had nearly cried when you watched them circle the island for the first time. The twins often came to you for anything they were too embarrassed to ask their father or too impatient to ask their septas or grandmother Rhaenys. Daemon doted on them, indulging their almost every whim and laughing alongside them on dragonback whenever he had a moment to visit. Seeing them together almost always twisted at something in your chest. They were a family. You wouldn’t have that, would you? You were far past the age of majority and had stopped attending any sort of function where you could even attempt to find a suitable match. What was the point? No one had ever been interested in you in that way and you had all but resigned yourself to simply being a Keeper.

It would be a quiet life for you.

But your quiet was disrupted when Baela and Rhaena were invited to the capital for King Viserys’ nameday celebrations alongside their father. They insisted on bringing their dragons—who were you to deny them? So, you found yourself wrinkling your nose as the large boat approached the capital, the familiar and awful scent of the city wafting toward you. After docking, you were met with a few familiar faces that helped you lead Moondancer and Morning to The Pit to be safely sequestered alongside the other royal dragons. The pair took to their temporary roosts well enough, recognizing the scent of Meleys and Seasmoke through the stone halls. As Caraxes settled near them, they were more than content.

“The lost daughter finally returns home, eh?”

The grip you had on Moondancer’s reins suddenly seized at the sound of your brother’s voice. Slowly, you moved to loop them around the chain on the wall before turning to face him. Rhogar had not changed much. His mouth was still curled in a scowl. His silver hair was still cut short. His periwinkle eyes were still cold as ice. And you knew better than to instigate anything. “Lady Rhaena and Lady Baela requested I accompany their dragons.”

Rhogar hummed. “They do seem fond of you. I was sure they’d send you away after Lady Laena’s demise and Vhagar fleeing your care. It seems they were taking pity on your failure.”

“Yes, they’ve been very kind to me.” He had always been good at cutting down to bone with few words. He’d also once literally cut you down to the bone after you were selected to be Vhagar’s Keeper. You could never win with him. Ever. There was no negating his hatred of you. It had started when you were born a girl instead of a boy and Rhogar thought it meant he was ‘forced’ to be the Keeper of your generation. If he had forgotten that your aunt had also been a Keeper until her death, you could not and would not say. He had wanted to be knight, apparently, despite his poor form with a sword and shield. “You forced this on me!” he had once spit at you. When you had taken up the mantle of Keeper, you’d half-hoped that his malice would fade. It did not. If anything, it grew like a raging fire. With every compliment from another Keeper or Targaryen directed toward you, he only hated you more. It was almost as if he stayed in The Pit to show anyone and everyone that he was the better Keeper. He tried. You would give him that. But the other Keepers turned to you for advice. They asked you for the balm you had created to soothe any wayward burns. They respected you. And the dragons preferred you. Before you had been moved to Driftmark, you could easily move between duties for all the dragons, each of them never minding your presence in their stall. You would never forget when Meleys had snuffed in Rhogar’s face before turning to you. And you had a feeling that Rhogar would never forget it either.

It had been Rhogar who had first called you a witch, the word dripping with venom. After all, how could one person, a woman, be so adept at caring for the dragons? The other keepers found it hilarious and adopted the nickname for you, too. They called you a witch. Sure, it was usually said with a teasing smile or an accompanying wink, but the moniker remained and endured. You didn't deny it. The blood you always knew to spill on dandelions was your secret. If you were a witch, so be it.

“Mother and Father will expect you home tonight.”

The small fortress built just outside the walls of King’s Landing hadn’t been your home for years. Hadn’t been a home since your sister sailed away and even then, you would make the argument that it had been Vaella alone that had been your home. Your one solace. Stepping through those doors again would not be a homecoming. But you knew better to deny them. “Of course.”

You had been surprised to have your pick of the handmaidens at the Red Keep after you spoke with Lady Baela about your family requesting your presence. You had been fully prepared to be ridiculed by your parents for smelling of dragon in their fine house, but you were bathed in a fine copper tub and then lathered in rose oil before Rhaena came in with a dress she promised would look lovely on you.

And the simple gesture nearly had tears coming to your eyes. Rhaena was quick to notice and all but threw the dress onto the bed before grasping gently at your hands. “What troubles you?”

“N-nothing, my lady. I fear I am just a touch overwhelmed. It has been some time since I have been in the capital.”

Rhaena frowned, a knowing look. “Do you wish to return here perma-”

Your grip tightened on her hands before you could even think to stop yourself. “No! No, never. I am happier with you and your sister than I have ever been in this city.”

The brilliant smile Rhaena gave you as she nodded was enough to calm your rapidly fraying nerves and she was quick to change the subject to the tourney starting tomorrow, the first part of the celebrations. “But mostly I am hoping that my toes will not be crushed each night—I’ve heard the men from the Riverlands are particularly awful at dancing.”

It was with Rhaena’s tinkling laughter still in your ears that you tried to brace for the hurricane that was your family. The smallfolk of King’s Landing called your family’s home the Little Red Keep for how your forebears had modeled it after the Royal palace. There were verdant rose bushes still lining the outer walls. There was still a small pond beside one of the turrets, filled with water lilies. There was still the large white dragon of your house’s sigil painted across the grand front door, gold keys in its mouth. It had not changed.

It was not home.

The door was opened by an unfamiliar servant and you were led toward the large hall where you could already hear your family chattering. It quickly halted once you stepped inside. You father stood from his chair with a placid smile on his face which you knew only meant he hadn’t had his first drink yet.

“There is my daughter.” He skirted around the table and hugged you, smashing your cheek against his chest. The medallions on his doublet were sharp against your temple, biting and cold. “It has been too long since you have been home.”

You hummed and tucked your chin to your chest as he held you at arm’s length. “You’ve been receiving the gold I’ve sent, haven’t you?”

He laughed and you tried not to recoil as his meaty hand curled over your upper arm. “Yes. You have been a dutiful daughter. It seems being sent away from the frivolities of the capital turned you into a respectable Keeper.”

There it was. The first sting. You knew better than to argue, to say that Princess Rhaenyra had often preferred you to care for Syrax, that Prince Daemon was always pleased with your care of Caraxes, that the other Keepers (aside from your brother) seemed to defer to you for any sort of special care that the royal mounts may need when you were still stationed at the Pit. “I am happy to have pleased you.”

“Come, come,” he said with a final squeeze to your arm that nearly had you wincing, “we’ve had all your favorite foods prepared.”

A single glance at the spread of food let you know, for the umpteenth time, that they didn’t know you at all. There wasn’t a single dish you favored in any capacity. There was your brother’s favorite roasted boar alongside your mother’s favorite lemon cakes, and everything else had your father’s favor all over it. You were nowhere to be seen. But you still took the seat your father pulled out for you and hoped for the best.

You only had to bite back tears twice and hadn’t needed to dodge a punch or a slap or even a fork thrown in your direction. Perhaps it was a good night. Maybe the years away had softened their disdain for you. That happy thought quickly disintegrated when you were pulled to a stop near the manse’s front door. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Father, Mother. You as well, Rhogar.” You smiled, almost convincing yourself that you hadn’t been sitting on needles the entire time.

“Where do you think you’re going? It is nearly the hour of the owl.”

While it may have been an innocuous and reasonable question from any other parent, this was your father. “Prince Daemon has been kind enough to have chambers reserved for me at the Red Keep-”

“So your family’s home is not enough for you now?”

Your eyes closed. You shouldn’t have come.

**

“Are you well?”

You nearly recoiled from the question but managed to smile instead. “I’m fine, my lady. Thank you.”

Baela frowned, amethyst eyes traveling across your swollen cheek and the way you were favoring your left side. “Are you certain?”

“Truly. Just a bit of a tumble last night.”

She didn’t look like she believed you and Rhaena who sat beside her didn’t look convinced, either. Thankfully or not, the doors to Baela’s rooms opened and a flurry of servants filed in and set out a spread of food on the table near the window where you all sat. One of the handmaidens who had accompanied you all from Driftmark, Isla, you thought her name was, turned to Baela with a smile as she set a plate filled with boiled eggs on the table. “Are you excited, my lady?”

Baela nodded, lips turning up a brilliant smile. “Of course! And I am so pleased that you will be at my side, too.” The pair spoke for a little longer before the group was dismissed and the three of you turned toward the lush breakfast.

You slowly spread a bit of cherry jam across a hunk of bread, eyes darting between the twins as they filled their plates. While it was normal for them to invite you to break your fasts together, you did not want to gain their ire, too, by prying.

Thankfully, it seemed Baela was happy to speak anyway. “I have news.” She set her utensils down and looked at her twin and you with another smile. “Princess Rhaenyra has invited me to stay at the capital so that I may spend time with Jace and learn the ways of court.”

Rhaena beamed, reaching to lace her fingers with her twin’s with a matching giggle. “Grandmother has said it is time for me to learn how to rule High Tide.”

Your heart felt like it was being crushed beneath a blacksmith’s hammer. While you always knew this day would come, you’d half hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. You listened as they laughed, excited about their futures, before they cried about being separated, before laughing again at remembering they’d never be too far away on dragonback. But you’d wished for them to be happy, hadn’t you? They sounded so happy. Both of them looked at you, matching smiles on their faces and you hoped your smile was convincing as you reached out to lay a hand over theirs on the table. “You both will be wonderful. I am so proud of you.”

The next morning, after another cruel night under the shadow of your family, only continued to squeeze at your battered heart as Princess Rhaenys pulled you aside with a small smile and quietly relieved you of your duties for caring for Morning as there were “plenty” of Keepers in the Velaryons’ employ on Driftmark. “I’m sure you understand,” she said, squeezing your arm.

You nodded with your bruised heart in your throat. “Of course, my princess.”

“You have been an exemplary Keeper to my daughter and granddaughters. But I would not ask you to choose, so I have made the decision for you.”

The compliment did give you a small bit of levity as you walked to the Dragonpit to see to your duties—you were an exemplary Keeper. Morning was not set to leave for another fortnight and you still had Moondancer to care for, didn’t you?

“I’ve been given orders to tend to Moondancer,” another Keeper said before you could even question her presence in the dragon’s roost. “Were you not informed of it, my lady?”

Apparently not. “Oh, my mistake,” you muttered. “I-”

“You would have your hands full, my lady. I am happy to be selected to be Moondancer’s keeper. It is not of your station, anyway.”

What did that even mean? It echoed in your mind as you listlessly moved through the Pit, finding mundane things to do now that you were unanchored. Morning was already being tended to by the Keepers that had sailed from Driftmark. The most fulfilling thing you did was helping a few of the newer Keepers care for the clutch of eggs Dreamfyre had laid two moons ago. You were willing to bet that the eggs would eventually be given to the babes that would be born to Rhaenyra or Alicent’s children. Being this close to the majority of the royal family once again let you be privy to a fair bit of gossip. Apparently there had been rumors that Alicent and Rhaenyra were using the lull in the war to strengthen alliances within the Seven Kingdoms. Most believed it would be Aegon to be married off first.

You just hoped they were happy.

“I thought you’d be out in the valley,” one of the Keepers said as you helped them fit the last egg into the crackling fire pit to keep it warm.

You frowned as you pulled off your thick gloves, pushing them into your belt. “The valley?”

The other Keeper frowned, too. “Have they moved? Seven Hells, no one tells me anything!”

Before you could ask just what they meant, your attention was pulled by the sound of metal on stone which you knew only meant one thing: a knight had been foolish enough to come into The Pit. Had they not heard the stories of men being boiled between breastplates by dragonfire? You never cared for the noise and you knew most dragons did not either, the grating sound too sharp for their liking. But soon enough, two whitecloaks rounded the corner and set their sights on you.

They called your name and you stepped forward, expecting to be summoned to the Great Hall or one of the twins’ chambers. “Prince Aemond requests your immediate presence.”

You wordlessly let them lead you away, fully prepared to be deposited into the Great Hall of the Red Keep. Instead, you were all but hefted onto the back of a horse and moved through the city that had all but cleared out to attend the first rounds of the tourney just outside the Lion Gate. You could hear the cheers from the crowd, a dull roar muffled by distance. The knights escorting you said nothing, two silent sentinels on matching white destriers on either side of your horse. They led you through the Dragon Gate and a little further north where the start of the unnamed valley started to slope. “We take our leave of you here, my lady,” one of the knights said. “The prince waits for you below.”

All of this just felt so strange but years of keeping your mouth shut and your head down kept you from asking any questions. You urged your horse down into the valley, dismounting when you reached the shade of one of the few trees. The valley was speckled with wildflowers and dandelions, not unlike the small valley that had been your sanctuary with Vaella during your childhood. The grass was high and soft as it brushed against your legs with each step. It was beautiful and empty. Prince Aemond was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, you thought of getting back on your horse and riding away, far away, until you passed The Wall in the North and then kept going. No dragons. No family. No bruises. No lies.

Just as quickly as the thought came, it left. The dragons were your life. Whatever duties you were to be assigned, no matter how low or asinine, you would welcome them. Then, something prickled at the base of your skull and you turned your head toward the sky just in time to see the sun blotted out by a hulking, winged form. The ground shook but you hardly cared as you finally set eyes on Vhagar again. A familiar ladder was unraveled and you watched a tall man descend as you approached the old dragon. Her massive head swiveled in your direction and you could not help but smile as she rumbled in greeting. She remembered you.

“Good. You’re here.” The voice was cool and raspy. Dangerous.

“Prince Aemond?“ You asked, feeling more and more stupid by the second.

As soon as his boots hit the ground, he turned to you, long silver hair catching the wind as your heart leapt into your throat. A cruel cut was jagged and slashed down his face, only broken by the finely crafted eye patch securely fastened over it. And while it embarrassed you to even think it, you thought him... handsome. Almost excessively so. He had all the refinement of old Valyria now with a hardened edge. The type of beauty usually reserved for portraits in the books your family hoarded and never touched, smuggled from a home long ago destroyed in The Doom. The barest trace of a smile pressed at his already upturned mouth as he strode toward you. “Do not tell me you have forgotten me.”

“I-I have not, my prince. I...” You shook your head as if that would stop the improper and impossible thoughts from turning and quickly dropped into a shallow curtsey. “It has been some time, has it not?”

“Six years,” he said simply, taking another step toward you. “You have not changed in the slightest. You are just as I remember you.” His remaining eye drank you in, moving from your silver hair to the tips of your boots. And you felt every inch of his gaze.

“It seems I have been left uninformed about quite a number of things. I had not known you had claimed Vhagar.” At the sound of her name, the dragon huffed. It brought a smile to your face and you reached out to press a hand to her giant neck. “She is a worthy mount.”

The small smile the prince gave you grew by a fraction. “Yes. I’ve heard a few of the smallfolk call her Queen of the Dragons.”

“A fitting name,” you said, smile growing. With a final pat to her scales, you turned to him again. “Now, I’m assuming you are wanting my opinion on the other Keepers at the Pit to care for her, no? So, I-”

“You have been left wildly uninformed, my lady.”

The ice in his tone had you freezing. “I apologize, my prince, I-”

“Did I not say that I would have no other hands tend to my dragon?” He took a single step toward you and the instinct to run immediately rushed down your spine. The only thing keeping you still was the heat of Vhagar at your back. “You are to be in the valley from now on. I have been told your other duties have been relegated to other Keepers.”

It all slid into place, the strange dismissals, the aversion. All of it. “Everyone knew of this assignment, my prince?”

And his strange smile widened. “Of course. I thought it polite to let you finish your time with my cousins, but everyone knew you were to be mine.”

**

You slowly shifted in your seat, trying to relieve some of the ache in your back from your father’s latest rage as you clapped alongside Baela and Rhaena for the winner of that round’s joust. The tourney was nearing its end and you were dreading every second that passed. Your entire life had been turned on its axis. Being reinstated as Vhagar’s sole keeper meant you needed to live in the Capital once again. Your family’s ire and disappointment had become daily battles, only broken by your escape to the valley or by invitation by the twins to accompany them to the festivities. It was a strange and almost sad moment for you to realize that a valley had once again become your solace and safe place and it had been less than a fortnight since you’d docked.

Despite Vhagar’s immense size and age, she had always been easy to care for. Her scales kept her from harm from anything manmade. You were sure even scorpion bolts would do little more than annoy her. Holes in her wings, from battles long since relegated to story and song, did not grow in size nor hinder her flight. You kept an eye on them regardless. The most pressing of your duties was actually maintaining the saddle atop Vhagar’s back, making sure it was still safe for the prince in any and every capacity. The only trouble you ever had with Vhagar was when she ate too much, ten aurochs instead of her usual seven, and her stomach protested. It was an easy enough fix. At least for you. Some of the other keepers called you insane for coaxing the old dragon to eat a large bundle of flowers you had collected from the valley and then spending an hour or so pressing at the hardened scales of her stomach to help her ache.

It was easy for you to settle back into a routine with her. Even with Prince Aemond standing, unmoving, beneath the shade of the valley’s tree with his eyes trained on you. He liked to watch, you found. Quiet. The day you had met him for the first time in the valley had been your longest conversation with him, even when he handed you new robes and requested you wear them when attending to Vhagar, he said less. The clothes were finely made, of course, and had the same treatment as your other Keeper robes to keep the heat and any accidental flames from burning too quickly...not that it would be of any use against Vhagar’s flames, but you still appreciated it. What gave you pause, however, was the strange crest stitched over the heart. It was the standard Targaryen crest except it was in an unmistakable shade of blue. Deep and bright. It was Aemond’s personal rendition of the signal, his personal coat of arms. You caught him looking at it a handful of times when you told him that you needed this or that for Vhagar, a strange gleam in his eye. But you would take his strange looks and almost unnerving quiet over your family any day. Every day. You learned that the whispers of him brokering alliances in Essos alongside Prince Daemon had been correct—and that was how he’d lost an eye. An overpaid assassin had come at him in the dark of his bedchambers in Qohor and had not expected the younger prince to be so adept at defending himself. For better or for worse, the blood spilt had gained Qohor’s favor and Aemond had allowed the mages of that city to work their strange magick on his face to keep the injury from hurting him as time went on. There were also whispers that the night the assassin came was the night Aemond had claimed Vhagar. “She could smell the dragon blood in ‘im,” one of the smallfolk had said, voice carrying across the stalls of food and linen of the early morning market just a few days ago. Was that true?

“You are fidgeting more than little Viserys.”

You immediately stopped your obvious poor attempt at moving discreetly and sighed, ignoring how Baela was looking at you. “Apologies, my lady.”

Baela sighed, shaking her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. I simply wish to know what has you so agitated.”

“Tis nothing. I think I am simply nervous about the feast tonight.”

At the mention of the feast, the last of the name day celebrations for the King, Rhaena leaned around her sister with a broad smile to look at you. ”You are finally coming? You have missed all the others.”

That was true. Every night after you finished your duties, you were all but summoned back to your parents’ manse, once again trapped within the walls of your family. But apparently, tonight they deemed you “enough” to be seen in such a public arena. Or perhaps they’d tired of the questions about your whereabouts and thought the last event would calm them.

You weren’t even sure if you wanted to attend. It had been too long since you’d been invited to anything of this level of pomp and pageantry and you were certain you’d either have absolutely no fun or you’d make an idiotic spectacle of yourself if you did manage to find a bit of frivolity in it all.

After promising the twins that you would save them a dance at the feast after the tourney’s jousting finished, you excused yourself, knowing you were expected back at your family’s manse sooner rather than later. It was almost a miracle that they’d let you attend this portion of the tourney anyway after learning that Prince Aemond had dismissed you for the day after his morning flight.

“I will see you this evening, my lady.” He had said it with such certainty that you didn’t even try to argue that he’d be much too involved with other guests to even notice you, so you simply agreed and thanked him again for the time away from your duties.

The trek back to the manse was short, much to your dismay, but you straightened your shoulders as you were let inside and heard your mother chattering away with one of the other highborn ladies of court in the solar. Just for a moment, you thought you could go upstairs to your chambers, unnoticed by anyone.

“Ah, there you are. You’re late.”

But the hope was all for naught. You turned and greeted the other woman at your mother’s side after dipping your head toward your mother. “Is there something you need of me, Mother?”

Your mother gave a tittering laugh and she pointed at a rumpled bit of cloth draped over an opened box near the end of the settee in the corner of the room. You moved toward it, pulling away the fabric that must have served as a wrapping for the box, and opened it to reveal a gown. Inky black damask fabric was lined with the deepest blue beads you’d ever beheld, stitched carefully to detail a three headed dragon over the breast. Crimson hued eyes were looped on each, twinkling in the dying sunlight spilling in through the open windows. The cut would show off your shoulders and the curve of your neck, dipping only slightly between your breasts, while your arms would only be slightly covered by loops of more black fabric, cut loose to give you freedom of movement. Simply put, it was gorgeous.

As you pulled it fully from the box, you noticed a small bit of parchment tucked into the folds of the skirt. You retrieved it, careful to have the dress’ bodice lay over your arm to avoid wrinkles, and unfolded it. A small token of my gratitude. The small note was not signed but there was only one person you knew it could be. A blue dragon. Gratitude. He didn’t owe you gratitude.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” The woman at your mother’s side said with a dreamy sigh.

“Yes, it is,” you murmured. After all, there was no way you could deny it. The gown was exquisite. You would need to speak to the prince about this. It wasn’t necessary. “I-”

“I was telling Lady Webber that we’ve decided that I will wear that gown to tonight’s feast,” your mother said, a smile on her face.

“But…” The rebuttal died on your tongue as you looked at your mother’s growing smile and the unknowing look on Lady Webber’s face. This was a trick. Your mother knew you wouldn’t refuse her in front of company because the consequences would be catastrophic. So, you pushed a smile to your face and nodded, swallowing your pride and argument. “Of course. And I know she’ll look radiant as always.”

Your mother’s chin tipped up, pleased. “I’ll have one of the maids bring Vaella’s gold gown for you.”

You nodded again. The gown was beautiful but nothing like the one you held now. But still, you carefully folded it back into the box and took your leave, hiding the note between your fingers as you trudged back to your chambers and tried to keep your head held high. Letting them know they had won by crying or screaming or pouting wasn’t an option. You weren’t a child anymore.

Handmaidens eventually filed into your room and lathed you with oils that made your skin soft and made you smell like the roses that were growing outside the manse’s walls. They tightened the corset on the back of the gown until you winced and only then gave a final tug to finish, saying, “the lady of the house said you are to look your best.” They then made sure you had a dainty gold necklace around your throat, golden dragon pendant falling just above your cleavage, to finish the look after you slipped into the soft soled shoes Vaella had left behind alongside the gown. You did look beautiful. There was no denying that—there was also no denying that this gown held no candle to the one Prince Aemond had sent. And you could not forget that the necklace around your neck had been discarded by your mother years ago for being out of fashion in her mind. Your family wouldn’t have you looking like a lowborn beggar, but that did not mean they would ever allow you to shine on your own. You just hoped Prince Aemond would not be insulted. But, again, you knew he’d be too busy to notice anyway.

But it was fine. This was what you grew up with—this is what you knew how to survive. This was them being almost kind. It was a kindness that they did not remark on your poor posture on the carriage ride up to the Red Keep as the setting sun started to bleed red over the city. Your family was announced as you walked in and your parents hissed for you to behave yourself, “don’t embarrass us more than you already do,” before getting swept away by their friends to enjoy the festivities. Rhogar quickly fled your side, too.

You managed to find a seat near the doors and the others at the table greeted you politely but largely kept to their own conversations as you picked at the food in front of you. Large crowds like this always made you nervous. Mayhaps that was why you’d never found a husband. As promised, you danced with both Rhaena and Baela but when you saw Prince Jacaerys walking toward his betrothed, intent on a dance of his own, and Rhaena had tugged at your sleeve and nervously asked if she looked all right when she spotted Lord Corwyn Corbray walking toward her, you assured her that she was beautiful, and quietly excused yourself back to your seat and another few bites of dinner.

You glanced up at the head table, unsurprised to see it filled with silver haired royals. Of course, Rhaenyra’s sons inherited their father’s dark curls, and Alicent’s auburn tresses were as beautiful as ever, but it was still silver silver silver as far as the eye could see. But there was one silver-haired prince missing from the table: Aemond was nowhere to be seen.

But you hardly had the time to think of his absence when Rhaenyra’s carefully braided hair almost seemed to sparkle in the torchlight as she and Alicent stood, each with a golden goblet in hand. A hush quickly blanketed the crowd.

“We thank you all for joining us tonight as we celebrate my father, the king’s, nameday. It has been a trying few years so to be able to come together like this is a blessing from the Seven themselves.” The crowd cheered, raising their goblets in response. “And we have more to celebrate.”

Rhaenyra looked to Alicent who was smiling softly at the princess, her goblet curled close to her chest. Rhaenyra whispered something to her, a matching sweetness in her gaze, before Alicent nodded and raised her goblet higher and you heard the crowd around you murmur, trying to discern what she was about to say. “It is my honor and privilege to announce that all of Westeros will be unified with the marriage of Prince Aegon to Prince Qoren’s heir, Princess Aliandra Martell.”

The crowd erupted in applause and, as if on cue, the doors beside the head table opened and orange and gold spilled out into the hall and a Dornish delegation swept in, headed by a man you assumed to be Prince Qoren Martell. At his side was a stunning woman, draped in similar gold and yellow with a golden headpiece fashioned to look like the sun settled over her dark hair—that must be Princess Aliandra. Prince Aegon rose from his seat and walked to Aliandra’s side and dipped his head before holding out his hand for her to take. She readily did and preened as he kissed her fingers.

The crowd cheered again and room was made at the tables for the Dornish company to join the feast as Qoren and Aliandra were given seats at the head table. King Viserys stood and welcomed Qoren himself before they sat beside each other. It was only then that Aemond reclaimed his seat on his mother’s right, leaning to the side only slightly to murmur something in Helaena’s ear which coaxed a small smile from her.

But it seemed that the announcements were not finished as Rhaenyra and Alicent still stood. Again, Alicent raised her goblet, “And I am blessed to announce that Princess Helaena and Lord Stark will be married, joining the houses of ice and fire!”

The crowd erupted, again, and you watched as Helaena stood while Cregan Stark moved through the crowds and up to her side. An adorable pink had settled on both their cheeks and you weren’t sure if anyone else would notice, but Cregan slowly held out a hand toward her, low and mostly hidden, and Helaena took it, curling her fingers over his. That simple bit of affection had your heart leaping. You knew Princess Helaena had an aversion to most forms of touch, so to see her happily accepting his hand was beautiful. The men of the North were known to be loyal and devoted—the look on Cregan’s rugged features made it seem as if he were already besotted—and that was what Helaena deserved, the gentle princess who always spared a kind word whenever you crossed paths in the Pit.

You joined in the raucous applause and raised your goblet along with the rest of the crowd before Viserys stood again and announced that Aegon and Helaena would take the first dance of the night with their betrothed and soon the hall was filled with music. Aliandra and Aegon were a swirl of black and yellow fabric as they turned about the floor, a command of the dance. Cregan and Helaena were more content to take up less room and smile at each other as they moved through the steps. It was entertaining to see how vastly different the couples were, but you thought it suited them.

Soon the floor was filled with more couples as one song bled into the next and then the next. You had no girlish hope that you’d be asked to accompany someone for a turn about the floor, so you happily took advantage of the extra room at your table and let your posture fall from its rigid line and indulged in a few more bits of cake, too.

Rhaenyra danced with her sons and Ser Harwin. Alicent was swept out onto the floor by Prince Daeron. There was love there. In that large, powerful family. Ser Harwin eventually took Helaena for a spin around the floor, making her laugh, as the Princess and the Queen regained their seats at the head table. You watched them between bites of cake. They bent their heads toward each other, whispering for only the other to hear with smiles on their painted lips.

They may both be married and they may love their spouses, but you knew there was something special, something other, between them. Something that usually only existed in song and story. Just for a moment, you wondered if anyone would ever look at you like the Princess was gazing at the Queen. You wondered if anyone would ever hold you like how the Queen was tugging at the Princess’ wrists, pulling her close, like you were something to be treasured, protected.

Probably not.

“My lady.”

You nearly dropped the piece of cake you were trying to bite. Turning in your seat, you saw Prince Aemond standing behind you, hands neatly folded behind his back. His purple gaze dragged across your face as you stood and curtseyed, hoping you didn’t have any cake smeared on your lips. “Prince Aemond.”

Without a word, he curled his fingers and turned, ordering you to follow him into the shadows behind one of the many pillars of the hall. You nearly slammed not his back when he suddenly stopped before turning to you again, close enough for you to feel each of his breaths against your hair and surround you in his scent of cold mint and dragon, tinged with steel. His thin lips were set in an even thinner line as he reached out and touched the edge of your golden sleeve before you had the chance to step back. “Was the gown I sent not to your liking?”

Your heart dropped to your knees and you resisted the urge to curl into yourself, as if you could hide your dress from him. “I…I adored it, actually. It is the most beautiful gown I’ve ever beheld. But, my mother requested it for tonight’s feast. And,” you cleared your throat, trying to pass the lump growing behind your teeth. It always felt wrong to speak of your family so kindly. And it felt wrong to lie to Aemond who had only been trying to treat you kindly. Hadn’t he? “And who am I to refuse my mother anything?”

But some small voice at the back of your mind was whispering that you needed to apologize and make sure it never happened again, for both your sakes. “I am truly sorry if you feel as if I have slighted you. It was never my intention and never will be.” You paused and tried not to recoil when Aemond’s gaze did not waver from your face. “I would not be comfortable accepting such a fine gift again,” you added, keeping your voice low. “I would not have you debasing yourself in any way-”

The words stalled on your tongue when his fingers skimmed up your arm before sliding across the ridge of your collarbone to pluck at the golden chain of your necklace. He pulled until the golden dragon pendant rested in his palm. “I will give you anything I deem suitable.” Then, before you could do anything, his hand closed over the pendant and he yanked. The clasp snapped against your skin and the rest of the necklace fell slack, broken. He pocketed the necklace before reaching into the finely constructed doublet stretched over his chest and pulled out a small silver chain. A necklace. Even in the dim light, you saw that it was finely crafted, its twisted rings braided together delicately. And, at the very bottom was a charm of a dandelion, no bigger than the nail on your forefinger. And Aemond was quick to fasten around your neck, long fingers sliding over your pulse and tapping—just once—against the vertebrae just beneath the base of your skull. “It’s perfect.”

The metal, warmed by being tucked so closely to his skin, was almost scalding. The dandelion charm slipped beneath the edge of your gown and hung between your breasts. Against your heart. “Th-thank you. But, I don’t feel as if I can accept it.”

“But you will,” he said, lilac eye burning into yours. “I had it fashioned in Qohor.” He whispered it like a secret.

“I…” What could you possibly say to that? Questions upon questions started to storm through your mind but the only thing you could say was an unsteady, “you were in Qohor ages ago, my prince.”

“I was.” Then he reached out his hand. “Dance with me.” His tone broached no argument. But didn’t you owe him that much? He’d sent you a gown that you didn’t wear. You’d once again tried to refuse a gift from him. This wasn’t…this didn’t feel right. You were just a Keeper. He was a prince. You’d overstepped with Lady Laena but that had felt different, almost reciprocal, in your affections for each other but you were always aware that you were a servant of sorts, no matter your highborn status and Valyrian bloodline. This didn’t feel like that…this felt different.

You couldn’t say no.

You placed your shaking hand in his and let him lead you out toward the dancing masses. You watched the crowd part for him as you took your places off toward the side as the next song began. Eyes were crawling all over you. You could feel them. The answering whispers sounded like a buzzing fly behind your ear but you could not discern what they were saying—not when Aemond looked at you, even as your hands dropped for a moment. You were quick to wipe your sweaty palms on your gown as the song began. The dance was fairly simple, one Vaella had drilled into you during your childhood, but as Aemond reached for you, long, roughened fingers curling over yours, you nearly forgot the steps. If he noticed your fluster, Aemond didn’t say anything, continuing to lead you through the dance with all the grace princes of your childhood stories possessed. As you spun beneath his arm, his other hand sliding along your waist, you tried to steady your heart with little success, his fingers searing through your gown to brand your skin. As he pulled you closer as the dance intended, your eyes shot to the long expanse of pale skin of his throat.

“Are you going to speak or should I be content with your silence?” He asked, voice low enough just for you to hear.

The barb stung and you tried to not flinch when he pulled you closer and then urged you backward in time with the song. “What would you have me say, my prince? I am sure I would bore you with my stories of my time in the Pit or on Dragonstone.”

“Will you not let me be the judge of my own feelings, my lady? Or will you rob me of that, too?”

“What have I robbed from you, my prince? If I have offended-”

“Offended? My lady, you have done more than offend me.”

Aemond’s grip on your hands tightened when you tried to pull back, continuing to drag you along in the dance. “I am sorry, my prince,” you whispered, the words cracking on your throat. “I did not know that my mother would take your gift. She is…she takes everything she wants from me.” You hated the words coming out of your mouth, hating how weak you sounded. “I never-”

Aemond yanked you to a stop, your chest colliding with his with each hurried breath you took. The song continued on, the couples dancing beside you were a blur of colors at the periphery but all you saw was Aemond’s light eye staring down at you as he leaned closer, wrapping his arm around your back to drag you ever closer, your other hand pinned with his between your chests. “Is that what you think? That a gown has soured your presence for me?”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to understand what he was saying over the roaring of blood in your ears. All of this was inappropriate. All of this was near scandalous. All of this was Aemond.

And, just for a moment, it was silent between you, only buffeted by the music continuing to play. “You alone have consumed my thoughts. For years.”

That didn’t make any sense but you still let him push and pull you through the next few steps as you tried to understand what he was saying. “If my presence has caused you discomfort, I shall remove myself from your employ, I swear to you. It was never my inten-”

The hand that had been holding yours swept to your face and his calloused thumb pressed against your bottom lip, robbing you of your thoughts and stalling the words on your tongue. The heat of him was near scalding, even through his leather and your fine gown, enveloping you, surrounding you, like a dragon’s fire.

He hummed, pausing for a moment to think—he always chose his words carefully. “No. No, my dandelion, you will not rob me of your presence. I have waited too long for this.” He pulled in a low breath, like he was trying to restrain himself. “I shall see you tomorrow after your duties finish. I expect you do not need reminding as to where, yes?” He asked, nearly demeaning.

You shook your head, his thumb sliding across your lip and heat burning your throat.

He hummed, again, and leaned down a little further, just enough for his breath to bloom across your parted mouth before he stepped back just as the song finished. He clapped along with the other dancers for the minstrels, never once taking his eye off you. He grabbed your hand and pressed a firm kiss to the back of your fingers before turning and walking away without a word.

It was not until you were home again, hours later, that you realized he’d called you my dandelion and your neck had bled from where he’d snapped your necklace.

**

How does one say no to a prince and keep their head?

Trick question: you don’t.

It had been nearly a moon since the feast and the dance you’d shared with Aemond. While he continued his silent watching as you tended to Vhagar, he would usurp any time you might have had to yourself. He had luncheon brought out to the valley. He would have you take tea with him and Helaena in the gardens if Vhagar decided she needn’t be tended to that day, searching for sharks to eat out of Blackwater Bay. He’d have you climb up into Vhagar’s saddle as they landed to see something that he thought needed tending to or mending. (And while he never moved to touch you, he burned like a fire at your back as you worked.) He had you inspect the hatchlings’ nests to make sure they were properly cared for (as he loomed behind you). He did the same with the clutches of eggs kept within the Pit as well.

It soon became something of a common occurrence for you to be “accompanied” by the Prince to the Dragonpit. While most of the Keepers took it in stride, having trusted you in the past, your brother once ground his teeth so hard as you halfheartedly looked over the chains on Sunfyre that you could’ve sworn you heard one of his molars crack.

And when Aemond asked why your eye was swollen shut the next day, you knew he didn’t believe you when you said you’d fallen off your mother’s horse. But you never denied him anything else. Anything he asked of you, you gave. That was what you were raised to do. Loyal to no one but the Targaryens and their dragons. If Aemond felt the need to investigate, he never gave you any indication other than a soft hmm rumbling in his throat.

You told yourself that you should be thankful the prince was doting on you so. If his strange affections at the feast had been any indication that he felt more for you (which was preposterous–you were nearly ten namedays his elder!), he had not acted on them other than the infrequent murmurings of the nickname My Dandelion. The heat you had felt vanished the moment he stepped away. The only habit of his you could not truly comprehend was his nickname for you.

Lucky. Yes, that was what you were, to know he appreciated your care of Vhagar. He cared enough to essentially install you as the overseer of the Keepers. Or perhaps it was making sure that the gold you were paid was being earned and he felt the need to give you extra duties as Vhagar was fairly easy to keep appeased. Lady Laena had doted on you as well, hadn’t she? Of course, her affections had been overtly platonic and familial, and Aemond’s were decidedly not in some instances. But there was no way you had garnered his attention in that way. How many times had you been told by your parents and brother that no one would ever want you in that way?

You scratched at your chin, trying to ignore your racing thoughts as the sky was starting to bleed an inky purple. It was the first light of dawn and you had hoped to check on the hatchlings before Aemond took his morning flight. One of the other Keepers had mentioned that two of the smallest dragons had been fighting and some blood had been spilled. While dragons were largely hard to kill, they were still not immortal, especially when they were so young. You’d wanted to make sure there hadn’t been any infection in the wounds and to see if you could settle them separately.

You heard whispers from the smallfolk as you passed. Whispers of the Targaryen madness, whispers of their dragons being an abomination to the Seven, whispers of how Rhaenyra would never be a suitable queen, whispers of the crown inching closer to the Old Gods instead of the Seven with the betrothal between Helaena and Cregan. Or how the blasphemous, bloody gods of the Rhoynar would come to usurp the Seven because of the match between Aegon and Aliandra. And you wished this had been the first time you had been privy to such whispers, but only having taken true notice of them a fortnight ago.

Whispers.

Whispers.

Whispers.

They unnerved you. They weren’t…right. You heard them too often to be idle gossip and too outwardly for them to be a true passing thought. Something or someone had come to King’s Landing and had started the whispers. Purposefully.

The whispers came to a head as you hurried toward the Pit. A crowd had assembled, far larger than you’d ever seen this early in the morning, filling the street to near capacity, all of them looking toward one man that stood atop the edge of a fountain, proselytizing. He was missing one of his hands and was wearing roughhewn clothes. His unkempt, grey beard swayed with each exaggerated word that spilled from between his half-rotted teeth.

“These Dragon Filth will lead us all into ruin! Think of your families! Think of your eternal souls!”

The words themselves had your blood turning to ice in your veins but it was the answering, near-gleeful shouts that had you running. And, as if on cue, you heard the crowd turn and start to follow.

You nearly fell through the Pit’s open floors as you careened by the guards stationed near the doors, shrieking at them to be ready, that an attack was coming. But you scarcely heard if they replied as you sprinted down, down, down. You undid the chains on Dreamfyre first, screaming at her to flee, to fly. Her dark eyes nearly blazed as she looked at you before she tore past you with a roar, stretching out her wings as soon as she was able. Screams from the crowd were nearly musical as you set about freeing Vermax, Syrax, and Arrax next.

“Go! Fly!”

The thundering footsteps of the crowd were growing closer. You could hear the scrape of swords being unsheathed, of axes battering against the door or sliding against the stone floor. They were coming.

Just as you were reaching for Sunfyre’s chains you were yanked back by a rough hand grabbing at the back of your tunic. You were thrown to the ground with a scream that quickly died as your skull bounced against the stone.

A man you didn’t recognize loomed above you with a rusted sword in hand. “Dragon filth!” He raised his foot and stomped it down onto your stomach twice before you could even try to move or defend yourself but you were able to grab his ankle and roll as he went to do it again. You felt his bones twist and break beneath your fingers as he screamed and you stood, your ribs protesting. A flurry of movement to your right had you screaming, matching the scream Sunfyre let out, snapping his chains before he let out a bellow of fire just as you ducked, reducing his attackers to charred flesh and bone in moments before spreading his wings and taking flight. You scurried out of the roost and toward the next, knowing that was where the hatchlings were kept, and your heart plummeted as you heard the sounds coming from within.

The hatchlings were screaming—dying. You threw open the door to see two men hacking away at the nest, their daggers bloody.

“Stop!” You wailed, throwing yourself forward and catching one of the men’s arms. Wrestling for control of his dagger was a short affair as the other man’s fist quickly connected with your cheek and nearly took you from your feet again. But you couldn’t, wouldn’t give up. Not when you could still hear the little dragons crying for help. You lurched toward the nest and managed to curl your hand around one of the small dragons before you screamed, a dagger thrust through the meat of your forearm. But still you curled toward the nest, trying to keep them safe—if you could just save them-!

Blood coated your tongue as you picked up the dragons and you barely had the wherewithal to look down to see the handle of another dagger buried into your side as the men beside you called you a “dragon’s whore!” and a “demon’s servant!” Your knees knocked together as the dagger was pulled from your side and you clutched desperately to the hatchlings as you teetered backward, heartbeat roaring in your ears, but they were cruelly ripped away from you.

For the second time, you hit the stone floor and a heavy boot collided with your cheek as a final cry came from the nest. Just as your vision started to blur, you saw the roof of the Pit shake, raining down stone and dust. There was a thunderous roar that you could feel in your marrow just before the world went dark.

**

The world swam back into focus slowly, in a swirl of creams and blacks and reds. It took you a moment to realize you were in one of the many chambers inside the Red Keep, carefully propped up against a small mountain of pillows with a blanket across your waist, embroidered with a familiar three headed dragon in black thread that shimmered like gems in the muted sunlight, seeping into the room from around the edge of a heavy curtain. You only had a moment to appreciate the fine furnishing before a stab of pain which seemed to pop and fizzle across every inch of your body had you wincing, eyes clamping shut as you bit your lip to keep your whimper quiet.

That’s what you knew how to do. Stifle your noises. Make yourself silent. It always helped. And you could not stop the flinch which shot through you when someone’s hand settled on your shoulder.

“Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to scare you!” The Septa at your side squeaked as she yanked back her hand.

Your eyes opened again and you had to breathe through the sudden nausea that rushed over you in a wave. “N…no apology necessary.”

“I will call for the Maester. And I believe your family has been waiting to see you, shall I let them in?”

Before you could answer–a polite but firm no–the door opened and your parents and brother stormed into the room. You briefly saw a handful of handmaidens trying to keep them back before the door was firmly shut behind them. Your mother burst into tears at the sight of you, fat droplets falling down her cheeks, before all but hurling herself toward you with a cry of, “oh, my daughter!”

You bit back a yelp when her hands, covered in rings, grabbed at your arms, poking and prodding at you as her touch moved higher and higher until she was grasping at your face. If she noticed your wince when her nail scratched against what could only be broken skin, she didn’t reveal it nor did she pull back.

“My lady,” the septa started gently, rising from her seat, “the maester said-”

“I do not care what that old man has said!” She screeched, nails biting into your skin for a moment. “My daughter has been…” The rest of what she was going to say, and you were sure it was going to be quite the show, was drowned out as more tears spilled and she shook her head.

You’d only seen your mother like this once before. It was when Vaella was getting married. Of course, those were supposed to be happy tears; she was sure to cause a scene so more people looked at her than at the bride. It was all a show. Crocodile tears dabbed away with a silk kerchief. Fanning her face. Whispering to anyone who would listen that she was the mother.

Despite the throbbing of each of your limbs and the stabbing pain behind your eyes, you looked to see your father and Rhogar standing beside the bed, doing their best to look concerned as the Septa walked out of the room. If you were an outsider, you may have believed their pantomime. But you knew. They didn’t care. All of this? All of it was for show for anyone who was watching. They were the distressed family of the person being cared for by the royals.

Your father stepped to yourself and pressed a flat, unmoving hand against your shoulder, a frown tugging at the sides of his mouth. “How are you faring? You look ghastly.”

“You look like you have nearly-single-handedly saved the Targaryen dynasty from an immeasurable loss.”

Everyone in the room turned to see Aemond stride in, shoulders back and eye entirely focused on you. Your family was quick to curtsey or bow and then shuffle back to make way for him to step to your side. Aemond paid them no mind before he cupped your face. His grip was surer as he touched you, almost familiar. The touch of his thumb skirting across one of your many slow-healing bruises had you shivering, or perhaps that was the way his light eye was focused entirely on you.

“You are healing well, my lady,” he said quietly, just as his finger looped around the necklace still at your throat, pulling the dandelion charm out from under the chemise (which was definitely not yours) you were wearing.

That same, strange heat started to smolder in your stomach as you looked at him, watching that small smile you saw so infrequently start to push at his lips. But now was not the time to ponder that–after all, it could just be a bit of nausea–as you had other, more pressing, concerns. “The hatchlings, my prince, did they-”

“You saved all you could, my lady.”

That meant some had died. Hot, angry tears immediately stung your eyes as you shook your head, only exacerbating the pain radiating across your body. “How many? H-how many of the little ones-”

Aemond moved to grasp at your hands, gently, softly, as he shook his head. “You need not worry about that now. They will be avenged.”

“We apologize for her childish tears, my prince,” your mother said, voice pulling you away from the prince’s gaze. Her comment only made the tears burn hotter as you tried to blink them away. Shouldn’t you know better? Tears gained you nothing. Tears changed nothing.

“They are not childish,” the prince said, still not turning to give them a glance. “She mourns with my family.”

The Septa swept in again and cleared her throat, thick eyebrow arching high enough to disappear into her habit as she looked at your mother for just a moment, before curtseying in Aemond’s direction. “The maester has been summoned, my prince.”

The prince nodded but did not move from his place at your side, long fingers sweeping lightly over the bandages you saw over your arm and then brushing against your temple.

“We are grateful you have extended your family’s maesters and healers for her care, my prince,” your father said as he stepped forward.

“As I said,” Aemond started, not pulling away from you at all, not moving his gaze from your face, “House Targaryen owes her a great debt. It would be in poor taste for her not to receive the finest care this land offers.”

Everything burned. The skin he touched, his minted breath against your lips, his unrelenting gaze on you. It burned. For better or not, you could not tell. All it was, was consuming.

“If we may, my prince,” Rhogar said, voice low, almost shaking as he spoke for the first time since coming into your temporary chambers ears, “I know my sister would be well rested in her own bed. We can never repay your House’s kindness-”

It was only then that Aemond looked away from you, dropping his hand to his side. “I would not have my lady withdrawn from her chambers until she has fully recovered.”

“We understand the debt you feel you must repay, my prince.” Now it was your mother’s turn to try, once again dabbing at her damp cheeks with her kerchief. “But it is unnecessary. We know she is but a guest here. We would not repay one debt with another for her care.”

“Tell him,” your mother said through gritted teeth, varnished smile starting to wane. “Tell him you do not need to be coddled so!”

There would be hell to pay if you didn’t. Your mouth opened and-

But Aemond simply waved his hand, a flick of the wrist as if he were batting away a gnat. “I will hear nothing of it. The Queen and Princess Rhaenyra both have ordered daily reports on her health.”

“We understand that, my prince.” Your father argued, tone low and placating, as his own periwinkle eyes bored into the Prince. “But we have been kept from my daughter’s side since the attack. She belongs with her family-”

“She belongs here.” Aemond’s tone was cold, broaching no argument. It was the tone of a king. The tone of a dragonrider. And why did something twist behind your ribs at the sound of it? Or was it because his simple sentence had your family looking as if they’d all been collectively slapped. Your mother’s mouth dropped and you saw your brother look to her, questions in his eyes, before they both turned to your father.

“The maester is due shortly. I would advise you all make your goodbyes now and I will have word sent when it is suitable for you to come again.”

After a stretched silence, your mother came first, pressing a too firm kiss to your temple and whispering a rushed, “do not embarrass us,” into your ear before stepping back. Rhogar was next, each of them murmuring his best wishes into your cheek just loud enough for Aemond to hear but not convincingly in the slightest. Your father was last, taking your hands in his in a strong grip that had you wincing, heat rippling up your arm to burrow beneath the bandage where you were certain dozens of sutures were holding your skin together. The look in his eyes had you instinctively trying to pull back, out of his hold, but he held firm.

You knew that look well. Too well. It had been the face of your nightmares since you could dream.

“Daughter mine, I trust you will-”

His words, threats or otherwise, were drowned out by the door opening and the maester being brought in, a flurry of other healers behind him. Aemond stood back, spine pressed against the wall as you were looked over, poked, and prodded. You learned that your stab wounds were healing well, possibly aided by the three days you spent unconscious. “You didn’t move at all!” The maester said with a smile. He also said that he would leave Milk of the Poppy at your bedside to help with any residual pains you were bound to have and that he would come back after dinner to check the mobility of your arm.

It was only when he and his entourage were finished that you noticed Aemond had not left the room at all during the commotion. He stood sentinel near the door, arms crossed over his chest. And, as the chamber door closed softly behind the last of the parade of maesters, you were left alone with him. Again.

A nervous tickle started to grow at the back of your throat and you tried to will it away, head a little lighter thanks to the few drops of Milk of the Poppy you’d been given beneath your tongue a few moments ago, as you awkwardly tried to push yourself higher onto the pillows with only one arm when he started to walk toward you. The effort was only marginally successful and a sharp pain from your side nearly buckled your uninjured arm anyway. By the time you settled again, you were strangely out of breath. But still, you knew you had to say something. “I am once again in your debt, my prince.”

“There is no debt. I would do it a thousand times over, Dandelion.” He then looked you over, something you couldn’t place in his eye, a look you’d seen a dozen times before and couldn’t name. “I will have the handmaidens tend to you before the maester comes again. Dinner will also be delivered. I am assuming you still like the honeyed chicken and carrots.” It wasn’t a question and the prince didn’t give you time to say otherwise before striding out of the room as a gaggle of handmaidens—who you knew usually tended to Queen Alicent—streamed in. They were quick as they helped you move from the bed with delicate, careful movements.

A shining tub was hauled in soon after and filled with steaming water. And, even when the group of handmaidens squawked about waiting for the water to cool a little, you were quick to submerge yourself in it, only relaxing when you were enveloped and sunk down until the water hit your chin. They eventually sat at your side and scrubbed you clean, mindful of your injuries, and added rose oil to the water and massaged more of it into your damp skin.

And while they seemed to be content to work in silence, you had to ask, the question pressing on your tongue like salt, “what happened?”

“Oh, it is just the most wondrous story,” one of the handmaidens said, punctuated with a dreamy sigh. “The prince himself carried you out of the Pit and flew you across the city on Vhagar to the Red Keep where he demanded the maester see to you immediately.”

“It was fit for song,” another handmaiden said. “I would not be surprised if artisans use the scene of him standing amongst the rubble and blood and fire for their finest paintings for years to come.”

“Prince Daeron has already commissioned a tapestry of it to be made.”

An embarrassed heat started to claw at the back of your throat as they continued to chatter away, only stopping their recounting of the Storming of the Dragonpit (as you learned the attack had been dubbed by the city) to sigh, wistfully. They eventually helped you out of the tub and into a silk robe with a blue, three-headed dragon stitched over the heart, just the same as your Keeper robes. Aemond’s sigil.

“But, what happened?” You asked again, ignoring the strange swooping feeling in your stomach. “Who were they? Why?”

One of the handmaidens gave a tittering laugh. “Oh, Sevens. Please excuse us, my lady. We thought you would want to know who rescued you, but of course you would want to know who nearly killed you! The Shepherd—that rag-covered old man—was a zealot who the Triarchy paid to come to King’s Landing. He believed he was doing the Seven’s work. But they knew he would simply cause a riot—apparently he’d already done so in Lys and they offered him freedom in exchange for listening to how King’s Landing was ‘in desperate need of his teachings.’”

The revelation left something aching behind her ribs. While the Triarchy may have been outmatched before, striking at the heart of the Targaryen dynasty’s power was a well calculated and cruel move. Truthfully, you cared only for the fate of the dragons.

The handmaidens eventually helped you back into bed after the maester deemed the mobility of your injured arm as “suitable.” He also made the passing comment that your “womanly duties” would not be affected by the wound on your side, nor the repeated kicks you had sustained to your stomach. “But you may want to hurry it along. You are far past the age of majority, my lady.”

And with that unhappy reminder, you slept fretfully despite your belly being full of your favorite foods and being surrounded by the finest bedding gold could buy. You woke the next morning before the sun, wounds aching, and let a few drops of Milk of the Poppy pool beneath your tongue. Your head swam unpleasantly almost immediately, like undercooked meat in unsalted broth, but your veins no longer felt serrated after a few moments. And it seemed it was almost fortuitous as you didn’t particularly feel embarrassed when the handmaidens came again and helped you into a gown you passively did not recognize and gave you a cheese filled pastry to eat as they guided you through the winding halls of the Red Keep. It did little to settle your sloshing mind and actually seemed to make you feel nauseous the more you ate.

“Where are we going?” You finally asked, essentially shoving the half-eaten pastry into the hand of the nearest handmaiden as your stomach gave an impressive lurch.

“The Prince has asked for your presence on the steps outside the Keep.”

Well, that didn’t answer anything and your next step had your side lighting up with a sharp pain. You gritted your teeth as they continued to lead you forward and through the winding Keep and its halls and courtyards until you were gently ushered outside. Kingsguard were set out in three lines on either side, flanking the steps, their armor shining in the growing sunlight. At the center stood Aemond, sunlight framing him in a glow so bright you had to shield your eyes for a moment.

“She has arrived, my prince,” one of the knights said, taking a step to the prince’s side.

Instantly, Aemond turned and set his eye on you and moved to grasp at your hands, pulling you forward to stand at the edge of the top step. The sudden movement had your stomach rolling and your eyes shuttered. “It is good to see in the sunlight, my lady.”

“I…” The words you wanted to say were heavy on your tongue, tangling behind your teeth. “My prince, what do you need of me today? Is Vhagar-”

“Vhagar is happily roosting in our valley. She only settled once I learned of your prognosis. I shall have you back at my side shortly, where you belong.”

You heard him step to your back, his scorching heat bleeding through your gown, and nearly jumped as one of his hands settled on your hip and you could feel his next exhale against your ear. Your stomach rolled again and your breath was ragged in your throat. You needed to sit down. Needed more Milk of the Poppy. The stabbing pain in your side started to splinter out toward all of your extremities and the swimming of your mind was growing more pronounced. “My prince…”

“Keep your eyes open, Dandelion,” he prodded. “I’ve kept him alive just long enough for you to see him die. All of them.”

His words had you frowning. Who? You opened your eyes and looked out, nearly retching at the sight of it all. From the steps of the Red Keep and down into the city, all of the Shepherd’s men were tied to posts. They looked haggard and hungry. Bloody and bruised. As you pulled in a breath to try to steady yourself, all you could smell was pitch. There were puddles of it beneath the feet of each man.

“What are you doing?”

Aemond hummed. “Dragon fire would reduce the city to ash. Uncle Daemon suggested a substitute.” He grabbed a torch from one of the knights and held it in front of you as he kept his post at your back. “Light the first.”

“I-I cannot, my prince. It is the King’s justice, not mine.” And could you kill a man? Truly?

“You saved the Targaryen dynasty from ruin and nearly lost your life in the process. The King, the Queen, my sister, they all know you have saved us. Protected our dragons at the cost of your blood.” The hand on your hip skimmed up your side, thankfully light in his touch over your covered sutures, to trail up and over your shoulder blade and to the delicate bit of skin hiding your rapidly beating pulse. “You deserve vengeance, my Dandelion. Let the world burn for the blood you spilt, just as our ancestors demanded in Valyria.” Aemond paused and the roughened pads of his fingers pressed into the base of your skull, an oddly soothing pressure. “Consider it a betrothal gift.” He then reached around you and made sure you curled your hand around the torch. Then, slowly, with deliberate but careful steps, he led you toward the first man on the right as everything faded to a high pitched ringing in your ears.

Betrothal gift.

You chanced a glance at the man tied to the pole and he snarled at you from beneath the gag in his mouth, eyes blazing.

Betrothal gift.

Then, with a gentle, guiding pressure of Aemond’s hand over yours, you dropped the torch into the pitch.

One by one white cloaks and gold cloaks stepped out from their formation to drop their own torches, each man set alight, consumed by licking red flames. Further on through the city, trailing up to the still-smoldering Dragonpit, the Shepherd’s men were strung. At the base of the ruins of the Pit stood the Shepherd himself.

Aemond had carefully set you atop the saddle of his favored steed, a Courser just as silver as Valyrian hair, and led you through the city so you could see all of it.

When the flames came for the Shepherd, he screeched like the hatchlings had in their tiny nests, drooling through the gag. But you couldn’t take your eyes away from the sight and the ringing in your ears had not ceased.

Betrothal gift.

Just as the smoke started to blot out the morning sun, you heard Vhagar’s distinct roar in the distance and your eyes rolled back in your head and you were lost.

**

The war had come again in the night. Boats had come ashore, striking under moonlight. They’d targeted the Isle of Tarth, Driftmark, Duskendale, Maidenpool, and Gulltown. Only Driftmark managed to push back the assault with Princess Rhaenys atop Meleys and Lord Laenor on Seasmoke, aided by Lord Corlys’ Velaryon fleet. The others were left in ruin and the marching bands of mercenaries and Triarchy soldiers pushed further inland, dividing the crown’s armies and raining terror down on low and highborn alike.

And you were shuffled off to Dragonstone with Vhagar and Aemond. From there, the Prince would help command the royal fleet which was now dispersed around the crownlands, to keep any other forces from arriving and to keep any from running back to Essos. Prince Daemon and Caraxes were there, too, and the Bloodwyrm had trilled happily when he’d noticed your presence on the island only to be snuffed at by Vhagar—just once.

And while you were happy to be away from the stench of King’s Landing and to say hello to Vermithor who still roosted in the depths of the volcanic mountain, you found it…boring. You had thought the war would at least be a bit exciting (and you knew you should use a different word but the notion still persisted) but it was strangely boring. There were meetings between commanders and the like with Aemond and Daemon and then more meetings between the Targaryen princes and the castle’s castellan and then the island’s sworn lords.

And you should have been thankful for it. You should’ve been happy that Aemond’s attentions were elsewhere. But it only left you more confused. He had called the pyres of the rioters a betrothal gift and then had said nothing else to give you even the slightest indication that he had meant it or was expecting something in return. And by the end of the first moon since you had relocated to the ancestral seat of House Targaryen, you had deduced that he hadn’t meant it and perhaps you had even imagined it, your mind altered by the Poppy. There was no plausible way a prince would be interested in you. But you were still thankful for the quality care you had been given for your injuries, the scars the only reminder of your brush with death with no other lingering aches. And something almost good came from the storming of the Dragonpit; it had been decided that the Pit would not be rebuilt and the dragons would no longer be confined to the stone roosts when not ridden and could roost anywhere they wanted outside the city. The Keepers would still tend to them and make sure they were well fed so no farmers would lose their livelihoods (and no one would lose their lives) because a dragon was hungry. It was good—dragons were meant to be free.

You also learned that Princess Rhaenyra and her son Prince Viserys had become the official dragon-riding guardians of King’s Landing. Helaena and Dreamfyre had taken to aiding Cregan and his armies in the northern border of the Vale and Riverlands. Aegon, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Daeron had flown out to burn any enemy encampments that had cropped up and had been successful, from what you had learned, while Baela and Rhaena were stationed at Driftmark with their grandmother and uncle, as another line of defense between Westeros and the Triarchy. You wished them well. But still…you were bored. Even news of Daeron’s betrothal to a young lady of House Lannister and Lucerys’ betrothal to the only daughter of Lord Tyrell had you excited for just a moment.

In an effort to have a bit of adventure and escape the gloom of the island, you would swim to one of the small islets that surrounded Dragonstone every morning when you weren’t tending to Vhagar in between her and Aemond patrolling out toward the Stepstones. Your favorite was just a small stretch of land with sweetgrass and wildflowers and a handful of looming trees, barely big enough to withstand the crashing waves of the surrounding ocean. Bodies of Triarchy soldiers would intermittently wash up on the shore and you would drag the corpses further inland in an attempt to help the fisherman nearby—no one wanted a dead man in their nets or on the end of their hook. You took a sharp stick and stabbed at their tattered clothes or armor and pulled them onto the wet sands, one by one, listening as the dragons roared overhead.

In the growing light of dawn, you tugged the last corpse beneath the tree you’d dubbed ‘the grave’ and haphazardly shoved it toward the rest of the mess of rotting skin and sun-bleached bone before turning away, letting the tall grass lick at your legs as it moved with the wind. The rains from last week had dotted the islet with flowers, and you stooped to pluck a dandelion. The stem was almost warm beneath your fingers as you twirled the wildflower in your grip, watching the early morning dew catch the first bit of sunlight and start to sparkle.

What would you wish for now?

You nearly yelped when you felt a sliver from your stick gouge into your thumb. And then a dragon roared overhead. By the sound alone, you knew it was Grey Ghost, one of the wild dragons of the island. He was free.

You switched the stick into your other hand, letting the smallest bit of blood smear against the stalk. You pulled in a deep breath and readied to blow the small seeds away and watch them disappear over the water. But just as you were about to exhale, something prickled at the base of your skull. A sensation you hadn’t felt since you started your Keeper training and it had your breath stalling in your throat.

Slowly, lowering the stick in your hand to a less antagonistic angle, you turned. Every curse you could have muttered dried on your tongue as soon as you locked eyes on the dragon looming at your back. Angry, blazing green eyes were locked on you. The rest of the dragon was as black as pitch with gnarled, grey scars littering his broad neck and chest, leading up to a mess of sharp teeth, left exposed on the left side by a chunk of missing flesh. The dragon rumbled and you could not look away.

This was the wild dragon known as the Cannibal. The fact that he hadn’t devoured you yet was a miracle, truly. The dragon huffed, bathing you in a green-tinged smoke for a moment and blowing away the small flower in your hands. Through watery eyes, you saw the bodies you had pulled from the sea, stacked messily together. Had the dragon done that?

When it didn’t look like he was going to eat you or burn you to ash, you slowly walked backward, keeping your head down. Submissive posture usually did wonders for an unruly dragon—it had saved your skin half a dozen times when Sunfyre had thrown a fit when Aegon was raging about something—and it seemed it worked with the Cannibal, too, because all he did was huff again before turning to feast on the dead.

And then you went back, again and again, pulling more bodies from the sea. But now your intention was less selfless and more selfish. No one had ever been able to get that close to the Cannibal and live to tell about it, their demise only being whispered by unfortunate bystanders or when their burnt husk of a corpse was discovered weeks later. But you survived. You came back to do it again, pulling more and more bodies from the sea and eventually stopped jumping when the large, scarred dragon nudged at your stick, urging you to fetch his meal from the waters. As strange as it was, you considered the large dragon a friend. Mayhaps your only friend on this side of the Narrow Sea. You would speak to him about your duties, point out the other dragons and their riders, telling him anything and everything that came to your mind. And then, when you, as delicately as you could, fed him another arm, you nearly shrieked when his jagged teeth suddenly sunk into your sea-soaked robes and all but threw you onto his back.

The scream that bubbled in your throat was short lived when he swiveled his long neck to look at you, as if making sure you were secure. He was mimicking the other dragons. The thought that this dangerous, old, angry dragon was playing pretend with you almost had you laughing. You adjusted your seat, slotting yourself between the large barbs and ridges down the dragon’s back and then grabbed at two of the curved spikes just at the base of his neck. Then, you spoke the word that changed your life irrevocably.

“Sōvēs!”

Fly.

And then he kept letting you up onto his back, letting you suggest where to go—he mostly listened. But you never truly cared if he wanted to go South when you had hoped to go North that day. He was yours. Truly, strangely, you felt as if his heart had wedged itself beside yours behind your ribs. The bond you had studied and kept sacred was now yours. You were a dragonrider. A dream, a wish you had never voiced. And you knew that if anyone ever knew, it would cost you your life.

But then you had a terrible, bordering on stupid, idea. You could see Vaella again. You could fly your dragon to Volantis and see your sweet sister again in days instead of the months it would take you to sail to her city. You could be free of all this. Of your family’s waiting wrath. Of the boredom. Of Aemond’s confusing actions. You had never been given even the opportunity to think of such things; your life was a series of going and doing what was expected of you. Pondering the possibility of true, if not brief freedom, and the repercussions that would surely follow, you stroked at the Cannibal’s flank as he ate the corpses you had piled for him earlier. The waning sunlight cast him in dark shadows as you both found solace in the seldom used western beach outside the castle’s curtain.

“Would you like to go to Volantis?”

The dragon rumbled between bites.

“Vaella tells me they have elephants there. You’ll have to promise not to eat them.”

He rumbled again and you couldn’t stop the soft laugh from escaping your lips. You could do this. Somehow. You’d offhandedly learned that Aemond and Daemon were considering flying to Braavos to meet envoys from the city to possibly form an alliance. You had heard rumblings about Braavos and Pentos both claiming dominion over the Stepstones and the Targaryen princes had hoped to resolve the issue and strengthen their armies and naval fleets in the process. It could be the perfect distraction.

A large, dark shadow suddenly washed over you in a wave and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. But the angry bellow Vhagar let out had you freezing. You couldn’t fight her, you wouldn’t. Even if the Cannibal rivaled her in size and ferocity, Vhagar was still your charge: you wanted her happy and healthy. Having two dragons fight to the death would destroy you. You needed to leave now.

Vhagar landed, sand spitting into the air under her weight, just as you pushed at your dragon’s side and screamed at him to fly, starting to scramble up to your perch. But before you could even try to move or take to the skies, the great dragon’s maw opened and closed around Cannibal’s neck and bit down.

You screamed alongside him as you were thrown back down onto the sand from the force of the impact, green fire spitting out from between his teeth. It nearly burned you but just as soon as the attack came, it paused. The prince’s dragon held yours down against the charred and crystallized sand. Dark blood slithered down the Cannibal’s neck to pool near your boots as you stood on unsteady legs. In a singular moment, he had been subdued. Just as you had been. Atop Vhagar sat Aemond and even as the sun blotted his features out, you knew he was entirely focused on you.

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please, let him go. He has done nothing against you.”

“On the contrary, my dandelion. He has nearly taken you from me. Did you think I did not see you climbing on his back, day after day?”

Tears gathered at the edges of your vision as you shook your head. “I am not yours, my prince. I am not-”

“Enough.” Aemond’s voice cut over the grumbling of his dragon and the seething of yours. “You have tested my patience. It is time to put this charade behind us. You are mine. You have always been mine. Just as I have been yours.”

“When have I ever been anything more than a keeper to you? I have done nothing to warrant these feelings. You are misguided.” You tried to quell the tears to no avail. Not when you could feel your dragon growing weaker by the moment. “When were you ever mine?”

But the prince was undeterred and swung out of the saddle and down the ladder to step toward you, lilac eye nearly burning. “I have been yours since you placed that dandelion in my hand as a boy that night on Driftmark and swore to me that I would have a dragon.” His hand slid against Vhagar’s neck as he stepped ever closer. His dragon released her bloody hold on Cannibal’s neck but kept her head close to his, effectively keeping him pinned.

More blood pooled in the sand as you shook your head. “You just needed a bit of kindness. That was all it was. Nothing more.”

“But it was more.” His voice was ice. “It was everything.” He moved closer still. “My entire life I have been nothing more than a spare, falling further down the line of succession with each birth. No titles of my own. I have had to fight every day to simply have my father’s attention, to make a name for myself, to be anything more than a footnote in a history book. Tis I who studies histories and battle and who rides the largest dragon in the world and leads the charge against our enemies. I have pushed them back across the Stepstones and into the Disputed Lands to lick their wounds but it matters little. Everything I have ever wanted is beyond my reach or shared with others, divided up before I can claim what is mine.” His eye blazed as moved ever closer. “Why should I not have something that is entirely mine?”

Heat crackled down your spine at his words, at his unblinking gaze anchored on you. “My Prince…”

“Mine to have. Mine to keep. Mine. You always have been and you always will be.”

“Y-you don’t mean that. I am nearly a decade your elder! I am not… My family serves yours and your dragons. We do not marry,” you tried to argue, thinking of every reason why it should not and could not come to pass. “I have no court refinement. My family reviles me. You ar-are a prince! You are the one who rides the largest dragon in the world, and you are a learned warrior worthy of song. And I cannot be the one-”

Aemond was in front of you in a flash, long fingers curling around your wrist. “You are. No matter what you think of yourself, I have seen you. I have known you. You are my only equal. Your family will be dealt with and I will give you the option as to how for their mistreatment of you.”

Still, you shook your head. “Your family will never-”

“My family has known I would wed you since I was a boy. They knew you simply needed time to see it. While my mother and sister tie the Seven Kingdoms together, you and I will maintain the old ways. Valyrian. Fire and Blood. Do not try to hide yourself from me. I knew what you were since my time in Qohor and I remembered how your blood shone on that little dandelion in the dark. You said it that night: there is magic in our blood. You would not be able to tame this beast without it,” he said, inclining his head to your dragon. “And so easily. Just as easily as you calmed all the others. They sense it in you, as I did. As I do now.”

And what could you possibly say to that?

But Aemond did not care to give you time to formulate a response and tugged you away from your coiled dragons and toward the castle. And, just as soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your back hit the cold, stone wall of the corridor and Aemond’s mouth was on yours. The kiss was not kind. Not the stuff of songs and girls’ whispered dreams. It was all hard edged lips and searching tongues after his hand fell to your jaw, pressing until your mouth opened with a whine. He stole your breath in an instant, seeming content to have you gasp against his tongue as he plundered. And then he was tugging at the laces of your trousers until they fell loose at your waist before falling with a single twist of his wrist.

You turned your head as you felt it, letting his next echo of a kiss smear against your heated cheek. Fear and something else crawled up your spine like a slow-moving spider.

He rucked up the edges of your tunic to curl his long fingers over your smallclothes and pushed them down to hang uselessly around your ankles and join your trousers. The moment he touched your clit had you keening, your own hands fisting at the leather stretched across his shoulders. To push him away, to pull him closer, you could not know. “My prince, please, you will ruin me. I am not what you want.”

“But you are,” he said. “You are all I want.” His fingers trailed lower, gathering slick as he pressed into your folds and then curled them into you without preamble. Your body shook with the intrusion, a strange burning sensation bleeding out into a pleasurable pressure as he continued to push push push in and curl his fingers, then he retreated just enough to have you gasping before he pushed back in. Again and again he pressed in, dragging the flat of his hand against your clit with each pass until you were whining against his mouth. An embarrassed heat licked up your chest when you realized what you had done. How could you like this?

“There we go, my dandelion. You sing so sweet for me.” Aemond bent his head just enough to drag his lips across the hollow of your throat, the wet, sucking sounds of your cunt nearly drowned it out. A heat was coiling in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with each flick of his wrist but you felt him shift, just slightly, and his next press had your knees buckling, sparks rippling up your spine.

“My…” Your tongue couldn’t form the words. Every inch of you was buzzing, pulling tighter, inching towards something that-

You came with a cry and Aemond kept you upright by shoving his knee between your legs, his other hand coming up to press at the base of your throat. As he slowly, carefully pulled his fingers from your sopping cunt, you couldn’t look away as he pressed his fingers into his mouth. He let out a soft noise, eye closing as his tongue wrapped around the digits to get them clean.

“You are sweet everywhere,” he said before slamming his mouth against yours in a harsh kiss that tasted of you as he pried your lips open to lick inside.

Your tenuous grip on his shoulders tightened as your blood sang through your ears. A sudden, warm pressure against your thigh almost had you retreating but the wall and his grip falling to ensnare your waist halted any movement.

“I want it all,” Aemond murmured against your mouth. “And you will give it to me.”

“Aemond-” The rest of your rebuttal choked you, stalling like a rock in your throat, as you felt like you were being split in two as he sank into you. He pushed and pushed and pushed, seeming to go on forever, and punched the air from your lungs when his hips were finally flush with yours. The prince stilled for a moment as your body throbbed with an almost uncomfortable heat and his lips dragged against your pulse, humid breath wetting your skin.

“My perfect little dragon.” And then he moved. Sliding out just enough to punch back in, dragging a yelp from your throat, and then doing it again and again and again until your yelps turned into wet, pathetic keens as the coil returned. It looped around your stomach and pulled as Aemond’s thrusts had you shoving up onto the tips of your toes, completely at his mercy. Each drag and push of him was hitting that spot inside of you that you didn’t know could possibly exist, and brushed against your swollen bundle of nerves and sent more sparks up your spine. All you could do was hold on and sob as he took what he wanted and drove you closer to another terrifying euphoria.

And then it was crashing over you, seizing your body and making you shake in his grasp, but he was not done, continuing to thrust until he suddenly stilled and a scalding heat pooled inside you before you felt it start to slip down into the crux of your thighs.

Aemond did not pull out as you thought he would, but instead stood straight and smoothed a hand across the side of your face before pressing an almost gentle kiss to your quivering mouth, just a touch too firm to be truly careful. “Let us retire. I fear we have tempted fate too much by cavorting in such a place.” Only then did he pull out, hands squeezing at your hips as his release started to slide further down your legs. You burned with something almost like shame, but the residual tingling from your own kept it from truly consuming you. “Your body is for my eyes only, those little sounds you make are for my ears only. You are mine. And I plan to have you again before I call you my wife in front of the gods of our ancestors.”

And Aemond did. He took you apart on his featherbed and he had you screaming into the hand he cupped over your mouth as he drove into you until your legs were too weak to sustain your weight when you tried to stand afterward. But it mattered little because he still had you bathed and dressed in the traditional robe of a Valyrian wedding and he’d led you out to the beach like a lamb to slaughter where the priest wed you to Aemond in the Old Ways. He cut your lip and you cut his with unsteady fingers, knowing you could not run now.

**

Much had changed.

With the tenuous allegiance of Braavos and Pentos gained with careful political maneuvering by Daemon and Aemond, the war with the Triarchy was over in three moon’s time. King Viserys lived long enough to see it and welcome the entirety of his family back to the Red Keep again in victory before succumbing to his age.

Queen Alicent was the one to place the crown on Rhaenyra’s head and proclaim her Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in front of the crowds assembled.

Your lip scarred and your husband liked to press his mouth to it whenever you were alone and you could feel his smile against your skin. And, just as he had said he would before your wedding, he had his first heir growing within you. His warm hand would curl around your ever-growing bump at every opportunity, no matter the company present. Advisors, siblings, knights, low and highborn alike. All of them saw the possessive curl of his fingers over you. You had come to expect it, almost welcome it.

It was strange…to be wanted. And to be wanted to completely. It was stifling and terrifying and all consuming. When you had come into your shared chambers and murmured the news that you were with child, Aemond had taken you again but slower than he had ever before. It was almost as if he were nervous to move too quickly, despite the power behind his thrusts, and hurt you or your babe.

The next day, he had the tongues of your mother, father, and brother delivered to you, wrapped in the dress Aemond had gifted to you and your mother had stolen. Aemond had given you a choice as to how to deal with them. You had asked for them to never speak ill of you again but for their lives to be unaltered. Horrified, you realized he had done as you had bid. They would never utter a word against you. They would never try to use you as leverage in a scheme. Aemond had taken it a step further to have you known as a Targaryen Princess rather than your House’s name.

“You make him so happy,” Alicent said as she cupped your cheeks in her soft hands, a matching smile on her face. “I cannot thank you enough.” The Dowager Queen had been endlessly kind to you and the rest of the family had welcomed you with open arms.

As if they had always expected you to be one of them.

Your dragon healed, new scars to add to his collection. He still allowed you onto his back but only when Vhagar was near. Your freedom still had caveats. But you still felt the wind beneath you as you soared through the air with your husband at your side. You still knew what it felt like to fly. You still knew the taste of clouds after a storm. You still knew what the city looked like from miles in the sky. And Aemond had sworn that he would fly with you to Volantis to visit Vaella after your babe was born.

“I love you,” Aemond spoke the words first, just after your bump started to show, only a week before you were set to fly North to see Helaena marry Cregan under the heart tree in Winterfell’s godswood. “I love you,” he said again after watching Aegon happily kiss his wife in Sunspear under the blazing Dornish sun. “I love you.” And you wanted to believe him. One day you would. And, perhaps one day you would say it, too.

A few months shy of your suspected due date, Queen Rhaenyra summoned you both to the throne room from the chambers you shared. “You may have any land you wish, brother,” Rhaenyra said with a small smile. “You have fought valiantly for this kingdom, often without reward or gratitude. It is a paltry sum for what we and the crown owes you, but I hope this is a start.” She waved a hand and a serving man handed Aemond a small scroll. “If you wish to rebuild any castle or keep on that list, you will have any materials and skilled workers you may need. If you would prefer something built new, you shall have the same. You need only ask.”

Aemond unfurled it to reveal a list of islands, vacant lands, and ruined castles. You recognized a few; Red Deer Island in the Riverlands, Bloody Isle near Oldtown, and Whispers which was the ruined castle near the tip of Crackclaw Point. But the list was extensive. Aemond had his pick of lands. He could take you anywhere he selected. How far would he take you? And why did you hate that you didn’t care? As long as it was him? It would be just you and him—forever

A/N: thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Love Language Headcanons

What I imagine the love languages of Iruka, Kakashi, Itachi (w bonus Hashirama and Madara) to be. GN!Reader, until Madara.

Warnings: lil bit of sexism from Madara (nothing new), fluff, lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Words of Affirmation

While he's giddy around lunchtime when he sees the note you left in his box, Iruka much prefers to hear the words of love come from your lips

After a long day, sharing his knowledge and wrangling children, the only thing on Iruka's mind is the sweet, little nothings you would soon be whispering against his ear as you two lay in embrace

Some nights, Iruka would even be known to fall asleep before dinner, in your arms, lulled and comforted by your tone and your words

There's something in the constant reminders of your love for him that keeps him spry, his adventurous spirit engaged

With every syllable of 'forever', Iruka can feel his heart thrum in his chest

Likewise, he will be the first to compliment every outfit, any touch of makeup, or even just your sleep-coated face in the early mornings - he wants you to hear his voice every time you look into a mirror, praising you and adoring you

Nothing will ever stop Iruka from telling you exactly how he feels in a given moment, no audience or situation too embarrassing

In fact, he adores telling you how devoted he is to you with an audience - he wants everyone to know you are completely and utterly his, and he goes weak in the knees when you return his words

Kakashi

Physical Touch

When you're sitting with him, his hand is lightly gripping your thigh, reminding you and everyone else who you came with

He finds he cannot walk without touching you, his arm needs to be over your shoulders or your arm locked into his - even when moving through a crowd, Kakashi will hold onto a bit of your clothing as to not lose you

Every night is spent completely tangled together, a jumbled mess of legs and arms, in and out of the sheets, with you practically on top of him

Even while asleep, if you roll away, Kakashi will lock his arms around your waist, pulling you close for a warm cuddle

He's always kissing you while you're within the sanctity of your shared home, and when he's not, he's rubbing his nose against yours, putting his forehead against yours, or nuzzling against your cheek

Will come to the bathroom with you, if you let him, just to sit on the edge of the tub and shoot the breeze while you pee

Never stops getting tingly and bashful when you touch him, especially in public, so aware of the declaration of together-ness that your touch brought

Kakashi cannot stand when someone else touches you, even your close friends - he's got quite the jealous edge, and you know his hands will be all over where the other person touched you, soon, vying to erase the memory of another from your skin

Itachi

Quality Time

He hasn't got a lot of spare time on his hands, but he feels like he might go insane if he doesn't spend every available second with you

The kind memories warm Itachi in the cold nights, so he is especially keen on making a million with you

Comfortable silence is common, which relaxes Itachi immensely

He wants to be with you fully every time you are together - reading is fun, but he prefers to do anything that distracts from you at, quite literally, any other time

Knowing his hours were numbered, Itachi curses the universe for letting the time spent with you slip away like sand in an hourglass

I suppose time flies when you're having fun, and he has never had such an abundance of fun as when he's by your side

Any activity is a good activity when done together, even ones that Itachi didn't particularly enjoy like laundry or mending clothes - he found he could watch paint dry with you and still enjoy himself thoroughly

Lingers heavily when it's time to say goodbye; he can't do it if he doesn't need to it

Itachi plans three months in the future at the crack of dawn - he can't help but try to optimize the length of the periods he spends with you, somehow being able to schedule entire days to be together

Hashirama

Gift-Giving

Knows exactly what you want, in what colour, in what shape, in what size - to the exact dot.

Hashirama can think of no better way of proving his love for you than proving he knows your material desires inside and out

Some way, some how, he never runs out of ideas of things to get you, and absolutely no price is too steep for something he knows you'll love

His favourite part of showering you in presents is the face of shock and sheepishness, telling you he would go to the Edge of the World if it had the only tree with the fruit you craved

Enjoys giving you things that can be used by both of you, like books, rare spices, hair products, but loves giving you things to wear

Who else can procure a silk dress, with yards of intricate embroidery? Who else can find jewels so large and sparkly? Only Hashirama, thusly marking you as his to anyone with working eyes

But truly, your favourite gifts aren't the adornments, or spices, or a massive house - the gifts that truly enraptured your heart were the handmade cards and drawings Hashirama spent hours perfecting for your eyes only

Madara

Acts of Service

While Madara rarely humoured you with a walk through the sunflower fields, he would consistently ensure that you could go through life without the slightest hint of discomfort

He'll make you a tea in the morning, bringing it to you with a gentle shake of the shoulder to wake you up - it's how you start every day, with a small smile and a steamy drink, reminded that Madara would strive to wake you like this even if the world were actively burning

Going both ways, Madara deeply enjoys it when you prepare dinner for him, and will pitch in with the dishes to show you that he was truly thankful

Women's duties are women's duties, but Madara would do anything you asked of him without hesitation within your home (in public, he'd be much more conscious, however helping you as much as he could while still saving face)

Dotes on you entirely - if you told him you wanted the sky to turn fuchsia, he would be taking to the God of the Skies in an instant

Half the time, you don't even need to ask Madara to do something for you, it'll already be done, and done so perfectly you would be left with no question as to who did it

Every thank you, to Madara, is like you asking for something else, and he will tear the world to shreds until it is just to your liking

[lostyesterday]

There is a certain type of Star Trek character that is extremely and vocally hated by at least some large segments of the fandom. These aren’t just characters that many people dislike – these are characters who are actively hated by a significant number of people, usually ostensibly because they are “annoying” in some way. This isn’t a phenomenon unique to the Star Trek fandom by any means, but I’m interested in examining this phenomenon in relation to Star Trek in particular – including which characters it applies to and the potential reasons why it might exist.

First, I wanted to make a list of Star Trek characters that I believe definitely count as overly hated from the Trek shows whose fandoms I’m most familiar with:

Wesley (TNG)

Pulaski (TNG)

Keiko (DS9/TNG)

Ezri (DS9)

Winn (DS9)

Neelix (Voyager)

Michael (Discovery)

Adira (Discovery)

Then there are the characters who I’ve seen a lot of hate toward, but I’m not sure if it’s from a large enough segment of the fandom or is vitriolic enough to count completely:

Chapel (TOS)

Lwaxana (TNG/DS9)

Julian (DS9)

Kes (Voyager)

Naomi (Voyager)

Gray (Discovery)

La’an (SNW)

Obviously, I think it’s perfectly fine and reasonable to dislike any of the above characters. What I’m talking about here is when people act like there is something fundamentally terrible or irredeemably annoying about these characters in comparison to other similar characters, with a base assumption that most everyone in the world is going to agree that these characters just suck.

So what makes these particular characters such common targets of hate? The most obvious pattern I see in these lists is that female characters are vastly overrepresented, which is hardly surprising. Fandoms disproportionately finding female characters “annoying” and “badly written” is hardly a new thing. Also, in addition to just plain sexism, there’s certainly a racial element to the ways people hate Michael and Keiko, and a lot of people who talk about how much they hate Adira will just straight up admit it’s because they hate trans people. On the other hand, I’ve seen more hate toward Wesley than most of the other characters on these lists, and he’s a white boy. Could there be elements of the hate toward characters like Wesley and Neelix that are also gendered – as in, these characters somehow don’t measure up to cultural standards of masculinity in a way many people find irritating?

Obviously, bigotry plays a large role in why a lot of these characters are hated, but it probably isn’t the whole story either. Fundamentally, the thing that confuses me here is that I don’t personally find any of the characters on the above lists to be more “annoying” than average. I slightly dislike a few of them, but I don’t hate any of them, and I don’t understand what it is about them in particular that makes them prime targets for such vitriolic and widespread hatred.

I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on this. In particular, what do you think about the above lists of characters that I think definitely count and might count as overly hated in the Star Trek fandom? Are there any characters you’d add to or remove from either list? And do you notice any patterns in the types of characters that end up being overly hated?

[drdemonprince]

I'm a trans guy and tbh I feel like I don't fully understand the transandrophobia debate. Based on my understanding of intersectionality & transfeminism, I think that trans men (largely) experience transphobia and misogyny, while trans women (largely) experience transphobia, misogyny, *and* transmisogyny -- I also think it's necessary to discuss issues that specifically affect men without describing them as forms of oppression or discrimination against men. But that's just accounting for intersecting identities (including both marginalized and privileged identities) rather than only accounting for intersecting oppressions, right? I feel like some people using the term "transandrophobia" either seem to be confusing these two concepts or mistaking gender essentialism for discrimination against men (though some just use it to describe a subset of transphobia rather than an intersection, it seems like). In any case, even though misandry isn't a real systemic issue, I can understand why some people feel like there's missing language or frameworks when it comes to discussing the ways men, and trans men specifically, are treated (and the ways they/we treat each other). I'm not sure what better alternatives are available, but I'm sure some are possible. I'm wondering if I'm misunderstanding something or if you have any other thoughts on this. Thanks!

It sounds like you understand this 1000% better than every sincere transandrophobia poster. Not every unique experience is a locus of oppression that needs a systemic oppression label -- but yeah, of course, it merits being talked about.

For example, lots of trans men have a hard time in coping with the shift from being treated with emotional deference and warmth by strangers, to suddenly being treated quite coldly or even in a mistrustful way by strangers. That is a real, painful experience -- and it's one that is wrapped up in damaging gender norms that do also negatively affect cis men. It's not androphobia, but it is a consequence of sexism and the gender binary that sucks, and it merits speaking about.

Where things get dicey and fucked up is when men (either cis or trans) take a painful experience like that and declare that it means they're actually more oppressed than women.

(And, as Lee ButchAnarchist often points out, women's emotions are even more policed than men -- yes men are denied tenderness and warmth from total strangers, but they are showered in affection and caretaking by the women close to them, and they are allowed rage a whole lot more than women, in general. so it's overly simplistic and sexist to say men are more societally emotionally repressed. this dynamic plays out among trans men too -- we are given a lot more latitude to be emotionally explosive. trans women, meanwhile, are told they're being "scary" if they have any negative emotion. This is all also racialized -- Black people of any gender are basically never afforded the chance to voice negative feelings in public no matter how much they police their tone.)

I think a lot of trans masc people have a sudden rude awakening that being treated as a man can be painful and complicated, and that the gender binary harms everyone, and that there is a social price to pay for the privileges of being deferred to, respected, and so on. They also don't want to acknowledge when they are being respected and deferred to -- owning up to having any male privilege feels dirty and wrong to people, which is silly because it's just a reality, it has no moral bearing on the person experiencing the privilege. And of course it's often an incomplete privilege because of sexism and transphobia. But it still happens. Particularly within trans spaces.

I don't think this conversation will move forward productively until more trans men are capable of acknowledging that many of us have privilege and that we are very capable of hurting other people, being sexist, and speaking over trans women. And that's why we gotta make this transandrophobia stuff just completely socially unacceptable in our spaces. It is exactly the same as being a Men's Rights Activist. There are real men's liberation issues! Any worthwhile feminism will also liberate men! There are lots of aspects of the gender binary and patriarchy that are harmful to men, and that's worth talking about. Same with transphobia. But we can't have that conversation when men commandeer it to talk about how actually women have it better and all that vile shit. That talk is used to silence women, trans and cis alike.

[bvidzsoo]

Irrevocable Love

Author: bvidzsoo

Warnings: swearing, mentions of human trafficking, slight sexism and misogyny, blood

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

Word count: 28,6k

Summary: Jeong Yunho was always protective of what was his. After his mother's death he stopped living a happy life, his father an alcoholic, his best friend was his only hope. The two of you had grown up together and you couldn't imagine living your life without Yunho, so when he tried to sneak onto the Pirate ship and leave without you, you were beyond hurt. Yunho only wanted to protect you, but he wasn't going anywhere without you. And so, the two of you joined Ateez on their adventures, starting your own love story at the same time. (Reader is called Bae Taeri in the following oneshots.)

A/N: Y'all, this one is a beast of a oneshot, lol. It's really long but I say it's worth it. Yunho's part is one of my favorites, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it. I strongly advise you read the previous parts (especially Jongho, Seonghwa, and San's) since there are many refrences from them (again, especially from San's). If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know, we have three more oneshots left *whew*. And share your thoughts! Enjoy now!

Taglist: @pingyu-in-wonderland @marievllr-abg @lelaleleb @loveforred @horanghae8 @jeonghanscarat7 @orshii @mundayoonimnida @m3tavita @silentcry329 @icarusignite

Series Masterlist ↭ Previous Part

            10 years ago

            Our poor seaside village had always been overlooked by everyone. Nobody ever came here, nobody ever brought anything here to help our living situation. So, that forced us to fend for ourselves, to find ways to survive. Families who were a little bit luckier had a small garden where they could cultivate various vegetables and fruits, and to everyone else’s luck, they were generous enough to hand some out to the rest of the village. Most of us, however, were forced to go out on the sea and fish, which wasn’t always the easiest as the sea wasn’t always serene and gentle to the sailors. Everyone seemed to struggle, but you never heard anyone vocalize their struggles, always sucking it up and greeting the day with a smile on their faces, always so nice to their neighbours and people at the market. Nobody wanted their neighbour to know that they haven’t eaten in two days despite the other person being in the same situation, it was shameful. And so, it didn’t come as a surprise that Yunho never said anything about his own struggles at home. Despite being friends for six years now, we’ve never discussed anything that went down at home between our parents or the hardships we had to face daily. If one of us had even a little bit in plus to share, it could be anything, we’d bring it with ourselves when we met up and shared it, as good friends do.

After Yunho’s mother’s death he rarely had anything to bring with himself, his mother used to make very delicious pastry, but I never complained. I understood. Yunho and his father were struggling, it was very clear. His father was a blacksmith and their business hadn’t been doing well for the past two years now, it was his mother’s bakery which brought most of their money to the house and with her gone…I couldn’t help but worry for my best friend’s fate. He was becoming thinner and thinner as days went by, his eyes lacking the light he previously always had in them, and the bags under his eyes were darker than ever. It didn’t take long to figure out that he was struggling, but I knew by now, that trying to pry it out of him did nothing. It only made him close off even more, so I stayed silent. I allowed him space and time; he'd come to me when he felt ready. And, so, it came as a big surprise when I found him sneaking by my house one night, close to midnight. He had a black cloth thrown over his head, as if to hide his identity, and my eyebrows furrowed as I watched him through the window of my room. His steps were hurried and his tall frame was slightly hunched, as if to hide his height, and he kept glancing over his shoulder. Was he running from someone? Did he do something forbidden? My head spun with endless possibilities as I quickly grabbed my wool coat and threw it over my frame clumsily, eyes still on Yunho as he got further and further away from my house. He lived just up the hill, a five-minute trek away from my own house. I’ve known him my whole life. He said nothing about going somewhere tonight, so seeing him acting like that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. Something didn’t feel right about his demeanour, and I quickly left the house freely, not having to sneak out tonight. Three days ago, a pirate ship decked down, and since our town was quite generous with them, they paid us back with gold and many coins. Four days in a row now, they’ve been drinking away their money at the run-down pub by the old mill, all grown-ups gathering there, men and women alike. Children weren’t allowed to enter the pub, my parents forbidding myself from doing so as well, but that meant we were free to do whatever, while they drank away the night. The wind was harsher tonight as I ran down the hill, trying to catch up with Yunho, who was almost at the end of the dark street, pace quickening as he noticed me, seemingly refusing to wait for me. I wanted to cry out, but couldn’t risk someone catching us, we were supposed to be inside our homes, sleeping. Yunho was headed to the beach, towards the little gulf where the pirates had decked down. My breathing came out in ragged puffs as I sprinted towards him, the sand making it harder to keep a steady rhythm. I had grown up here, yet I never learned to enjoy the sand.

“Yunho!” I called out quietly, the wind carrying my voice over the little waves as I was getting closer to my best friend. He stopped looking over his shoulder, yet seemed to be ignoring me as I called out his name again. I knew he could hear me, so why was he ignoring me? My feet sunk deep into the sand as I tried keeping my curly hair out of my eyes, but the wind was strong down here at the beach, and it left me huffing and puffing as I watched Yunho’s body fall to the ground. I yelped and forgot about how much I hated the sand, sprinting towards him, finally reaching his side. But as I tried to help him up, he yanked his arm out of my hold, standing up on his own, head whipping around. I stared at my best friend wide eyed, confused by his reaction. It was just me, why was he acting like that?

“Yunho—”

“What are you doing here?!” His voice was snappy and I stepped back in shock; he has never spoken to me like that before. His eyes were hard and his eyebrows pulled into a frown. What was happening?

“I’m—I—” I stuttered as Yunho glared at me; his demeanour scary. I’ve never seen him like this, he’s never acted like this towards me, “I saw you through my window and I followed you—”

“You should’ve stayed at home.” Yunho snapped and then turned around, taking off again. His long strides made it hard for me to keep up with him and I kept stumbling forward as my legs tangled together due to the sand, eyes trying to fall on his face, but Yunho kept his head turned away from me.

“You should be at home too—” I huffed, still trying to figure out what the issue at hand was, “What are you even doing out here, Yunho?”

My voice raised and I gripped his wrist tightly, hauling him back, and he hissed, suddenly all up in my face. My heart was hammering as I looked up at my best friend, despite being fifteen, he was already a head taller than me. My hands trembled as he was breathing hard, but I refused to let go of him, I refused to cover under his intimidating gaze. He was always smiling, he was always happy, there was always a glint in his eyes. He always made jokes, and he’d tickle me when I was sad or ignoring him. Yunho was warm and the nicest person I have ever met. He is understanding and considerate. But I could find none of those qualities in the boy standing in front of me, glaring down at me.

“Go back home, Y/N.” He snapped, eyebrows furrowing more as I shook my head, biting my lower lip nervously, “Y/N, go back home.”

Each one of his words was emphasized, but I just shook my head again, breath stuttering when he suddenly shouted, “Go home!”

I wasn’t scared of him; I could never be. I was just confused. I started trembling as I shook my head vigorously, biting my lower lip, Yunho’s starting to tremble the longer I defied his wish.

“Y/N, please—” His voice slightly broke and my eyes widened when I noticed the tears in his eyes, “go back home, I can’t—I can’t leave if you’re here—”

“Leave?!” My voice sounded panicked as my heartbeat picked up again as I gripped his other wrist as well, scared he’d run away again. Yunho nodded, averting his eyes as I yanked on his wrists, pulling him almost into myself, “What are you saying?”

“I—” He gulped as he still avoided eye contact, voice barely a whisper, “I’m leaving with the pirates.”

The crash of the waves against the shore filled the void silence engulfing us, the stars shinning down us brightly, darkness around no matter where you looked. Yunho’s eyes shone as the first tears fell, head fallen forward as he let it rest against the top of my own head, shattering my heart into a million of pieces. Yunho wanted to leave. He wanted to leave me alone. He planned to live a life without me. I couldn’t live without him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” My lips trembled as I managed to say out loud those words, my own tears falling, “You won’t leave me here. Alone.”

“I have to.” Yunho sniffed and suddenly he flipped his hands, grabbing mine as I was still holding onto his wrists, “I have decided, Y/N. I must go—”

“No!” I screamed, raising my head and making Yunho take a step back, eyes wide as he gazed at me surprised, “You can’t leave me here! Do you understand that?! I can’t live without you!”

“Y/N,” He seemed to be in pain as he sniffed again, cupping my cheek with one hand, but I slapped it away, gazing at him with fury, “I promise to visit. I will come back every now and then.”

“You mean to say you’ll come back in ten years?” I snapped, voice hardening as I glared at him, “When I might not even be here? When I might be dead?! You mean to say I will have to live the rest of my life without you? Without knowing whether you’re still alive or not? Whether you’ll ever return to me? Whether you still—still remember me?!”

“How could I forget you?” Yunho’s voice was high pitched as he cupped my cheek, closing the distance between us as I craned my neck up to look at him, new tears falling from his eyes, “You’re my light, Y/N. The beacon in my darkness. I could never forget you—”

“Why are you leaving?” I cut him off, needing a reason. He had to have a good one if he was this desperate to go. Yunho gulped and looked away, almost ashamed, his grip on my cheek loosening, but I quickly placed my own hand over his and squeezed his fingers, his eyes falling back on me.

“I just can’t live here anymore.”

“Not a good enough reason.” I snapped, making Yunho’s eyebrows furrow.

“I just hate this life.” I shook my head again, the reason not good enough. I wouldn’t accept such mediocre issues. I didn’t like my life either, but I didn’t plan on running away with pirates. Who could kill me any second.

“Y/N, what does it matter—”

“Because you plan on leaving me behind and I can’t let you go without a good enough reason!” I snapped, more tears falling from my eyes as Yunho shook his head, the wind blowing his bangs away from his forehead.

“I hate my father.” His voice was quiet as he spoke up with a sigh, eyes falling on the sand between our feet, “He’s always been bad, but ever since mother died…I just can’t deal with him anymore. He’s drunk all day and all night and blames everything on me. He expects me to bring money to the house like my mother did, but I can’t even bake one chocolate chip cookie, Y/N. He’s never taught me his job and I can’t help out at the workshop…give it a few more months and we’ll die from hunger.”

The weight of his words settled between us as I took in a deep breath before exhaling slowly, pulling him into my body, my arms wrapping around his torso tightly. I knew Yunho hated pity, but my heart broke for him. I couldn’t stand seeing him cry, chewing his lower lip as his body trembled from the cold.

“I would never let you die like that, you idiot.” I whispered against his neck and Yunho’s body shook as he laughed quietly, before he started crying hard, “You should’ve told me sooner, Yunho. You know I would’ve helped you. You know my parents would’ve helped.”

“I don’t want anyone’s help, I’m a man—”

“You’re a boy.” I reminded him as Yunho squeezed me against his body, holding the back of my head against his neck, his body cold compared to mine. I had just noticed how thinly he was dressed and it broke my heart. His father never bothered getting him new clothes as winter was approaching.

“Boy or man, I have to fend for myself.” Yunho whispered and slowly pulled back, removing his body from mine, “And if I want to live, I have to leave right now. Without you, Y/N. But I promise you that I will return. And when I do, I promise to be rich, and then we’ll both leave this good for nothing town.”

I shook my head, about to complain as Yunho pressed his lips against my forehead, burning my skin as my eyes blurred with tears. As I reached out for him, he stepped back, and he was gone. He turned his body and started walking away, leaving me in disbelief as my body shook from anger and fear of being abandoned by the only person I loved wholeheartedly.

He was already a few good steps away when my next words bubbled out of me, “I will kill myself!”

I was fifteen. I didn’t know better back at that time, but it felt like my whole world was disappearing the further Yunho walked from me. The purpose to live seemed to dim in me as he sauntered off in the darkness. I felt powerless as he walked away from me.

“I will jump off the cliff tonight if you leave me here, Yunho!” I screamed, body shaking violently as Yunho stopped, body going rigid. It looked as if he wasn’t even breathing anymore, so I continued, “I can’t live without you, and if you leave me here, I will kill myself. I will walk up the hill, past my house and yours, and go to the edge, and jump. I will do it; you know I will. It’s a promise, Yunho. And then you won’t have anyone to return to—”

“Stop!” He screamed back and wheeled around, face ablaze as he stormed up to me, breathing quickly, “Stop this non-sense right now!”

“You know I will do it.” I challenged him, glaring up at my best friend.

“You’re crazy.” Yunho whispered speechless, searching my face for a tell-sign that I was joking. But I wasn’t. I meant every word I have just said.

“I can’t live without you.” I repeated for the nth time tonight, making Yunho shake his head in despair as he suddenly gripped my arm, hold careful, and started walking, pulling me after him. I said nothing as I kept up with him, ignoring the way the sand still made me stumble, eyes never leaving the side of Yunho’s face as he gazed ahead determined, grip slightly tightening as if he was afraid I’d rip myself away from him. But I would never do that. My heart was beating fast as I realized we were walking towards the water, towards the pirate ship. Yunho remained quiet as he gave me one final glance, a silent question in his eyes if I truly wanted this. Wherever he went, I followed. Whatever he did, I followed. So, I nodded my head firmly, and we walked inside the water, taking our unsure future in our hands for the first time.

Our fifteen-year-old selves remained clueless as to when the ship sailed off, hidden away behind some barrels in a chamber which looked like a kitchen, Yunho and I had assumed it was one since it had a stove. Our small and lanky bodies huddled close together, Yunho’s hand holding onto my arm the whole night, as if he was scared someone would snatch me away from him. But nobody did. Despite being on an unknown ship with pirates, we slept through the night smoothly, the clanking of loud dishes the only thing which woke us up. My eyes were wide as I stared at Yunho, who’s face held no emotion as he carefully peeked out from behind the barrel, surveying our surroundings. By the sound of it, there was only one man in the kitchen beside us, and I relaxed when Yunho nodded at me reassuringly, leaning down to whisper something in my ear. But our false security was quickly gone as a strong grip on my arm yanked me to my feet, away from Yunho, who sprung up after me, taking a hold of my other arm. I stared up at the scary looking old man, who’s grip was very painful, scared for my life. Perhaps this was the day we’d die.

“Let go of her.” Yunho’s voice held no fear as he stared the old man down, eyes ablaze as he tried tugging me close to himself. The old man just chuckled and looked behind him, where the man who was washing the dishes watched us amused.

“Two children,” The old man chuckled, “what are you doing on my ship?”

“Are you the Captain?” Yunho asked, eyebrows raising. The old man said nothing as he nodded, a curious glint in his eyes as he looked at me before looking back at Yunho.

“I’ll only ask once more before I throw you to the sharks, what are you doing on my ship, children?” I gulped, heart in my throat as I looked at Yunho panicked, trying to tug my arm free from the painful grip of the Captain, but it did nothing. Yunho noticed the discomfort on my face and stepped closer to me, squaring up to the Captain as he pulled his shoulders back, wanting to seem taller and stronger than he was.

“We got bored of our old lives, Captain,” He spoke with determination, the glint I have missed back in his eyes, “And we wanted to start anew. What better way than a pirate ship?”

“If you think I’m going to take you on the adventure of your lifetime, kid, you’re very wrong.” The Captain rolled his eyes and released my arm, pushing me, making me fall into Yunho. He caught me easily and glared at the Captain as he cradled me against his chest, shielding my view of the scary man as he buried my face in his chest. My heart skipped a beat.

“We’re not here for the adventure, Captain, we’re here to work. To do something with our lives. Anything’s better than living in that God forsaken town,” Yunho sighed, his confidence still shining through, “You have seen it with your own eyes.”

The Captain hummed and after a beat of silence, I heard him speak up, “So, you want to work?”

Yunho nodded eagerly and I managed to nod as well, forcefully pulling my head away from Yunho’s chest as he tried to keep me still, “We don’t want to be a burden. You can teach us anything and we’ll do as you say, Captain.”

The Captain chuckled, but I could see his eyes softening a bit. Yunho has always had charm, all the elders loved him back in our town. Every kid wanted to be his friend. I shrunk a bit against Yunho as the Captain’s black eyes fell on me this time, eyebrows furrowing, “You’re a girl.”

I nodded, scared of what would happen next to me. I knew I was at a disadvantage here, but I also knew Yunho would never let anyone touch me or harm me. I was safe with him. The Captain’s eyebrows furrowed even more, and suddenly, he raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, making my ears ring. The other pirate who had been washing the dishes quickly left the room and suddenly we heard two pairs of footsteps thudding down the hallway loudly. I felt my heart pick up again and bit my lower lip as I held onto Yunho’s arm so tightly it was probably restricting his blood flow, but he said nothing as he held me back just as tightly. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and two boys walked in. They were young, perhaps around our age, both shorter than Yunho as they walked to each side of the Captain. They looked nothing alike, yet the one with cat-like eyes resembled the Captain an awfully lot. Yunho and I glanced at each other as the Captain ruffled the two boys’ hair and then looked at us with a big smile, suddenly looking friendly, the scary man gone.

“These are Hongjoong and Seonghwa,” The Captain said cheerfully as my eyes fell on the boy to his left, who’s eyes were big and his plump lips were pulled into a warm smile, “You two look to be the same age as my boys.”

“Your boys…” Yunho repeated quietly, slightly relaxing against me, my grip leaving his arm as I detached myself from Yunho, suddenly embarrassed, and stood straight up next to him.

“My sons.” The Captain clarified and then looked at me again, “If you truly want to stay on the ship with us, you won’t have an easy life as a girl.”

I sucked in a harsh breath, finally being hit with the harsh truth. A ship. Full of pirates. Of men. And I was a girl. I shuddered and circled my arms around my torso, feeling very uneasy as I saw the two sons glance at each other before their eyes fell on me. Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and he stepped in front of me, glowering at the Captain’s son whose eyes were cat-like as his eyes seemed to remain on me for longer, “I will kill anyone who dares touch her.”

The Captain’s laughter was loud as it echoed around us and his son cracked a smile, meanwhile the other one looked concerned for a second as his eyes found mine. He looked very nice, and soft; it was weird that he made me feel safe so fast.

“You can’t even lift a sword, son.” The Captain said once he was done laughing, and then grabbed his son’s shoulder, the one that looked nothing like him, and nudged him forward. He glanced back at his father before his eyes fell on me again and he smiled at Yunho warmly as he stepped closer, extending his hand for me.

“I’m Seonghwa, nice to meet you.” His voice was velvety and he was very polite, if we met in any other circumstance, I would’ve never said he was a pirate.

“My name is Y/N.” I said as I shook his hand, lightly pushing Yunho out of the way. He didn’t like it as he watched us closely, but said nothing.

“Seonghwa will take care of you, Y/N,” The Captain said and Seonghwa nodded obediently, “he’ll give you some clothes and help you figure out how to make you look like a man. I don’t mind having you on my ship at all, but you should keep your true identity a secret if you want to be safe. I can’t promise you anything if you decide to stay.”

I looked at Yunho upon hearing the Captain’s words and he turned his head to look at me, determination coating his gaze. I nodded at him and he sighed, jaw clenching, and I knew he was worried about me. About how we were going to pull this off.

“Your hair is really pretty.” Seonghwa suddenly spoke up and as he extended a hand to touch one of my copper curls, Yunho’s hand shot out and gripped his wrist, the other son, Hongjoong, jumping forward and holding a small dagger to Yunho’s neck. I gasped as I looked at the three boys, feeling helpless as I was the cause of it.

“Stop it, Yunho.” I whispered as I stared at the dagger at his neck, heart beating fast as Hongjoong glared at my best friend. The Captain started laughing again and shook his head, pulling Hongjoong back by the arm, Seonghwa stepping back embarrassed as well.

“I see you’ll get along just well,” The Captain said joyfully and looked down at Hongjoong, “You can teach Yunho whatever you feel like, he’s all yours.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Hongjoong’s eyes as he looked back at Yunho, and suddenly I was concerned for him, scared that the pirate would put him through torture.

“We only have one free room and one bed.” The Captain said as he turned around, walking towards the exit, “You’ll have to figure it out yourselves.”

Yunho and I nodded, not foreign to the feeling of sleeping in the same bed. After his mother’s death he slept over at my house quite often, never truly explaining why; but it’s not like it bothered me. His mother really liked me and while she was alive, she’d organize plenty sleepovers for the two of us, baking and cooking her specialties to make our night even better. I missed her.

“Like I said, your hair is really pretty,” Seonghwa spoke up again as the Captain was out of the kitchen, “But it’s too long for a boy…”

I gulped, gripping the ends of my copper hair. I really loved my hair. It was special, nobody else’s in my town was like the colour of mine. It reached the middle of my back, my curls tight. I didn’t want to cut it.

“I don’t want to cut it.” I said quietly and looked at the floor as Seonghwa hummed, rubbing his chin.

“I’ll try to figure something out, then, about clothes you don’t have to worry about, Hongjoong and I have plenty of those to lend over until we deck down in a town and buy some for you two.” I smiled at him thankfully and Yunho nodded his head, looking around the room.

“Will you teach us what pirates do?” I asked quietly, starting to feel excited about the future. Hongjoong chuckled as he played around with his dagger, pointing it at Yunho.

“We aren’t on a playground here, so you better forget you’re just kids.” He said with a scowl, eyes narrowed at Yunho, “And don’t try to play the tough guy either, unless you want to be shark food. Touch Seonghwa again and I’ll cut your hand off—”

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa sighed with a pointed look at his brother, “He didn’t know what I wanted to do, he was just protecting her—”

“I do not care.” Hongjoong snaped, shooting a silencing look at Seonghwa, “There are ranks on this ship, and you’re at the bottom of it right now.”

Yunho glared at Hongjoong as he raised his chin, staring at him challengingly, “We’ll see for how long, pirate boy.”

Hongjoong chuckled as Seonghwa shook his head and looked at me sadly, motioning with his head for me to follow him, “You should get changed, Y/N, the longer you look like that the longer you’re in danger.”

“Promise you’ll never tell anyone.” Yunho suddenly spoke up, looking at Hongjoong and Seonghwa. The two glanced at each other before they nodded their heads, Seonghwa gently offering his palm for me to take.

“We promise.” Hongjoong said firmly, extending his hand for Yunho, who shook it firmly, “Let me show you your room then.”

            5 years ago

            A while had passed since the pirate ship became my new home. Yunho’s new home. Captain Kim was kind to the two of us, allowed us time to learn what we were best at, and never beat us down with his words like some other pirates, who didn’t try to hide their disdain for us. I did not understand where such hatred came from, but I didn’t dwell too much on it. Yunho was quick on his feet and too smart for his own good, he learned something new every day and mastered it in only a few more days. It was impressive, the Captain became keen of him quite fast and promised to give him a high rank once the right time came. I was scared at first, not truly understanding how I could help out on a ship full of men as my strength was quite questionable and my cooking skills were nowhere to be found, that is, until one day, Seonghwa and I were cleaning up his father’s office, only to find drawings of some old ships and boats. The designs caught my attention and after asking for permission, I took them to my room and started studying them, finding similarities with our own ship. I knew I might’ve been very wrong, but I wanted to have significance and contribute with something, so one evening, when the Captain was gazing out at the dark sea, I walked up to him and whispered to him that I might have some suggestions as to how we could make our ship faster. He listened to me with a smile on his face and the next day I found myself in charge of making the ship faster. And after that, whenever something happened to the ship, I seemed to be one of the few who knew how to fix it. I could feel the heated gazes of the other pirates, those who had been on this ship for too long, throwing insults at me behind my back, cursing me for doing more than they ever could. I had been cornered a few times too, threatened with a beating and becoming shark food, but Yunho somehow was always there at the right time, scaring those pirates off as he glared at them with the scariest look in his eyes. And once they were gone, he’d turn around and cradle me against his chest, promising to always protect me. Captain Kim was also good at keeping me safe, often warning his pirates to keep their slurs to themselves if he heard them sprouting non-sense about my physical appearance, about how weak and frail I looked. Nobody besides a select few people on the ship knew I was a woman, and I intended to keep it that way. The Captain was a great help when it came to it, always shutting down the rumours, but after just six months of having been on his ship, he was killed by a rival pirate crew while we were decked down for supplies. We had a few rough weeks, especially Hongjoong and Seonghwa, but a new order was soon instilled. Kim Hongjoong, the Captain’s only blood related son, was to be the next Captain. He chose Seonghwa to be his Quartermaster and at the late request of his father, Yunho became the Master boatswain. I was assigned the position of Carpenter and Yunho’s deputy if he ever needed help, meanwhile many of the older pirates were disregarded of their positions. Hongjoong wanted to make his own reputation, he became The Slayer, making Ateez one of the most feared pirates in the four seas and four kingdoms. Our crew grew significantly throughout the years and we became a tight circle of nine, Hongjoong’s most trusted people…and friends. Everyone was special to him, and despite not being on the best of terms with everyone myself, I knew they were my family. I knew I could trust them with my life. If Yunho wasn’t there, they always were, all of them being very protective of my gender as the older pirates were quite vile, not liking the changes Hongjoong was making.

I usually stayed up late when I wanted to wash up, preferring to wait until everyone else fell asleep, that way I knew nobody would barge in on me. The little room we used as a washroom was truly small, a few utensils thrown in the corner as we used a larger barrel as a bathtub, luxuries like that weren’t made for ships. The water was almost hot as I dipped my hand in it to check the temperature, and it brought a smile on my face, knowing that Yunho was the one who washed up before me. He knew how I liked being last, so if he could, he always heated the water for me beforehand as carrying buckets filled with water was strenuous for my muscles. I waited a few more minutes, checking again if nobody was roaming the halls of the ship, and upon hearing no movement I started undressing. I took off the scarf from my hair, unwrapping it before pulling off the bandana as well, massaging my scalp and sighing at the relief of pressure from my head. My hair had to be cut every now and then, but Seonghwa was nice enough and never cut it above my shoulders, knowing how much I loved my curls and the colour of it. I unbuttoned my black shirt, but didn’t take it off as I had to first unwrap the tight cloth from around my body, which restricted my breasts from showing too much, also concealing the form of my body. My skin itched as I undid the clasps and quickly unravelled it from around my torso, groaning at the soreness of my breasts. Ever since going through puberty my breasts had gotten bigger, and having to restrict them daily made them very sensitive and sore, on some days I could barely touch them, the pain traveling through my entire torso at the smallest contact. I unlaced my trousers and quickly pushed them off, shivering as the cold wrapped around my body. As I went to pull down my undergarment, I heard footsteps barrelling down the stairs and loudly headed towards the washroom. My eyes widened as I froze for a second, listening to the sounds, trying to recognize the person, but to my horror, it wasn’t anyone whom I was close to. Yunho only needed to take one step before I recognized him, Seonghwa’s steps were light and he was usually whistling a tune stuck in his head, meanwhile Wooyoung was always screaming my name if he was searching for me. This wasn’t anyone I knew, not someone I was close to. Snapping out of my shock, I looked around panicked, not knowing what to throw on first to conceal my identity, but by the time I grabbed the bandana to wrap it around my head, the door was thrown open. I froze, my back facing the door. Nobody said anything despite the burning gaze I could feel on the back of my head and I stiffened as I subtly tried to button up my shirt. If it was anyone, I was close with, they would’ve already apologized and closed the door behind them, even San.

“Taemin?” Fuck. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, chewing my bottom lip as I realized it was one of the older pirates, who’s voice was too raspy from smoking so much. He was one of the few remaining from Captain Kim’s crew, the old crew, and he hated my guts the most.

“Yeah?” The timber of my voice dropped, like I usually spoke to the crew. My heart was beating fast as I pulled my shoulders back, closing the last button of my shirt, bracing myself to turn around. But before I could do so, a sticky hand grabbed my arm and whirled me around.

“You’re not Taemin.” The old man’s face came in view, he was sneering at me, his breath bad as it smelled like cheap rum, he looked tipsy. I gulped before rolling my eyes, my expression steeling.

“Let go of me, you old fool.” I hissed, trying to tug my arm out of his grip, but the old man narrowed his eyes at me.

“Watch your language, pirate.” The old man snapped back, yanking me closer to himself. I tensed even more, conscious of how exposed I was. I could only pray his vision was blurry enough that he wouldn’t realize my gender.

“Release my arm, now.” I demanded, glaring at him, but suddenly, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open as his eyes travelled over my body. Fuck. I went to pull away, about to curse him out like a sailor and send him away, but the old fool was walking out the room, hauling me after himself. I struggled against him, but his strong grip wasn’t relenting.

“What are you doing?!” I yelped as I tried to hold onto the wall when he started walking us up the stairs, heart hammering in my chest.

“Shut up, wench!” He snarled as he looked back with a glare and my heart dropped to my stomach, realizing that everything was about to change. I started to trash against him, trying to free myself, but he just hissed and turned around, landing a hard slap against my cheek, making me fall into the wall. I was breathing hard, shock rippling through my body as he grabbed me by my hair and yanked hard, making me cry out, pulling me up the stairs, headed to the deck.

“Get up, everyone!” He started screaming at the top of his lungs, his harsh grip bringing tears to my eyes, “Fucking wake up! Get on deck!”

No, no, no. My lower lip trembled as I tried to turn in his grip and punch him, I knew how to fight, but this greasy man was strong and furious as he threw me against the hard wooden floor of the deck, my breathing ragged and loud as my head almost smacked against the floor. Pain shut through my knees, palms burning from taking the impact.

“You, wench!” The old pirate howled at the top of his lungs, spit flying from his mouth, “You thought we wouldn’t find out? You thought you could fool us?!”

I bit my lower lip, trying to gather myself as I heard the multiple footsteps of the rest of the pirates, then felt their eyes on me. I knew everyone would be watching, judging, and laughing. I was surrounded by men, after all, and they loved humiliating a woman. Especially the one most of them had been suspicious of for five years now.

“I am no fool!” The pirate screamed and suddenly grabbed me by my hair, yanking my head up. My body trembled from the cold and anger cursing through my veins as I glared up in his eyes with spite, “You might’ve fooled the old Captain, but not me!”

“And who are you?! You scum!” I snapped, baring my teeth at him before the back of his hand made contact with my cheek, again, sending my head flying to the side. My cheek stung from the slap, tears instantly in my eyes as I heard commotion close to us.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Yunho’s voice was deep as he screamed at the top of his lungs, voice almost cracking from the anger I could hear in it. As I looked up, cheek burning, my eyes fell on Yunho. He looked livid. His chest was falling and rising rapidly, and when we made eye contact, his jaw clenched as he took off towards the old pirate, only to be held back by Mingi and San. Wooyoung’s gaze could murder anyone as he watched the old pirate, hand gripping the handle of his sword as I saw the conflict in his eyes, not knowing whether he was allowed to help me or not as the crowd of pirates parted for Hongjoong, who’s hair stuck in odd places, his nightgown thrown over his built frame.

“What is happening?” He asked, voice tense, as he stopped in front of Yunho, keeping a safe distance between me and the old fool. I looked at Hongjoong, and when he saw me, his eyes hardened before he looked back at the old pirate. Everyone knew the old pirate has always tried sabotaging Yunho and I, even tried to throw us in the water once when we were working on deck, thankfully Hongjoong saw everything and reported it to his father instantly, as he was still alive back then. Hongjoong hated this old pirate as well, having been bullied by him his whole childhood, but he needed a good reason before getting rid of him. It seems like them moment has just come. Old fool.

“This man—no, woman!” The old pirate spat as he pointed his finger at me accusingly, “Has lied to us for years, Hongjoong—”

“It’s Captain Hongjoong to you, pirate.” Seonghwa snapped, standing behind Hongjoong tensely, keeping his eyes off me as I could see his strong front breaking each time he dared glance my way even from the corner of his eyes.  

“Captain Hongjoong,” The old man said it with difficulty, hating Hongjoong just as much as he hated the rest of us, “this woman had been hiding on our ship for five years. Calling herself Taemin, exploiting our generosity, using up our resources!”

“And? Where’s the problem with that?” Hongjoong chuckled and walked closer, taking his nightgown off as he stopped in front of me.

“Where’ the problem—she’s a wench!” The old pirate screamed at the top of his lungs as Hongjoong crouched down and placed the nightgown around my shoulders, sharing a look of understanding with me, calming my crazy heartrate for a second, “This slut thought she could outsmart us! Sneaked on the ship with that boy only to be his whore—”

I closed my eyes tightly at the vile things which kept leaving his mouth, calling me names and any slur he could remember. Yunho and I made eye contact, and I noticed how Wooyoung was gone, probably unable to remain calm, meanwhile Seonghwa had to move to keep his hand against Yunho’s chest as he trembled with fury, trying to fight off Mingi and San, who were trying to calm him down. My eyes looked up at Hongjoong when suddenly a sword was handed to me, Hongjoong’s hand extended for me. I took it and stood up, wrapping his nightgown around my exposed body, grabbing the handle of the sword.

“That’s my sword you’re holding you ugly slut!” The pirate spat and I looked him in the eye, slowly, a smirk pulling onto my lips. Hongjoong chuckled and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he stood next to me.

“You’re free to do whatever you want with him, Y/N.” He emphasized my name as we both stared down the old pirate, who seemed shocked to hear my real name.

“You—you knew!” He said bewildered, his eyes falling on the crew as he realized Mingi and San were barely able to hold Yunho back at this point, Seonghwa having to stand right in front of his face and continuously demand him to stop, “You knew all along what this stupid wench was and—”

The pirate’s words stuttered as his eyes widened, looking down at his chest. I gripped the handle of the sword with both hands as I pressed it deeper inside his heart, watching with satisfaction as the old fool seemed to realize a wench was the one to end his life.

“How pathetic,” I chuckled, smirking at the man arrogantly, “killed by your own sword. By a woman.”

The man tried to say something, but I yanked the sword out of his chest, watching him as he fell to his knees, clutching at his chest as blood poured out, coating his clothes and the floor. I kept my eyes on him, watching as the life faded slowly from his eyes until he fell limply against the floor. The silence behind us was deadly, and Hongjoong shook his head, looking irritated, as he turned to face his crew.

“Well, now that this is out of the way…” He said with an eerie smile, clapping his hands together, “Taemin isn’t actually a man, as you can see. Her name is Y/N and if anyone’s got a problem with having a woman in our crew, don’t be intimidated, tell us now. I’ll let her take care of it.”

Nobody said anything, their eyes averted as they shook their heads ‘no’, shuffling around uncomfortably. I released the sword and let it clatter to the ground, eyes connecting with Yunho’s as he was finally allowed to do whatever he pleased, not even two seconds later his body crashed into mine, his whole being shaking. I chuckled into his chest, trembling as well and gulping down the tears as he turned us around, his arms wrapped around me protectively, and snarled at anyone who was still gawking at me. Hongjoong nodded at us, and Yunho grabbed my arm instead, making me yearn for the comfort of what being in his arms felt like, as he pulled me after him making the crowd part for us as I stumbled down the stairs after him. He said nothing, and I remained quiet, trying to swallow the tears which threatened to spill down my cheeks. I tried to stay strong, up on the deck, but I was terrified of what would happen to me now. Of how the rest of the crew which didn’t know about me until now would act towards me.

Yunho’s tall body was tense as he kicked the door of our room open, and I gasped as he yanked me inside, slamming me against the wall before he kicked the door closed with his foot. Yunho had gotten taller over the years, something which seemed impossible since he’s always been so much taller than me. His face had gotten sharper too and eyes steelier than they used to be, the glint in them only appearing when it was just the two of us or if he was with Mingi, who had become like his brother quickly. My heart was hammering in my chest as I looked up at Yunho, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. He was breathing hard and the way his jaw would clench and then unclench was an obvious sign of his anger, of how much he was seething.

“Did he touch you?” His voice was barely a whisper, it shook in the quietness of our small room. We weren’t fifteen anymore, sometimes it felt stuffy inside here, but it was the best this ship could offer, and we had to live with it. Yunho’s voice had always been so soft, but over the years, it has gotten deeper and whenever he was angry, it would shake his whole chest as his voice boomed over everyone else’s. You rarely saw him mad, but when it happened, it silenced the whole crew as everyone covered away from his wrath.

“No—”

“Y/N, did he touch you?” He repeated his question, eyes ablaze as I sniffed, two tears rolling down my cheeks. I tried to keep it together, to look strong in front of him, but nobody has ever touched me like that old man has. Nobody has ever called me so many ugly things before. I regarded myself as a mentally strong person, but I felt violated. I didn’t want my gender revealed just yet, I was scared of what would happen to me next. Men were vile and they viewed us, women, as a piece of meat, good for nothing else than bringing them satisfaction. I could see it in the eyes of a few pirates up on the deck, their eyes running hungrily across my exposed body. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this.

“Just—” I gulped, shaking my head, “No, not like that—just slapped me, really—”

“Did he slap you before you got to the deck?” Yunho’s voice was too levelled, it meant nothing good. I was scared he’d throw someone overboard; he surely had seen the few pirates looking my way for too long when we passed by them.

“Yunho, he’s dead.” I forced a soft smile on my lips, grabbing his wrists in a reassuring manner, “It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters!” Yunho snapped, voice raising, “It matters because you’re no longer safe with us! Because I failed to keep you away from danger when I promised I’d never let that happen! I should’ve never allowed you to come with me—”

“Yunho, it’s not your fault.” I said with a sigh, watching his eyebrows furrow in disappointment, “I should’ve waited for longer, really. And you’ve always kept me safe, stop saying such nonsense.”

He chuckled, his voice coated with irony, “If that were the case, nothing would’ve happened tonight.”

“Yunho.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as I pulled his hands off my cheeks, lightly pushing him back, “I am fine. I am safe. I am alive, standing with you in the security of our room. There’s nothing to blame you for, so please, stop it.”

Yunho looked at the floor, shaking his head as he racked one hand through his hair, long fingers tangling in the messy strands of his locks. My eyes followed the motion, eyes lingering on his hand for a second too long, before my attention was back on his face as I felt him looking at me. I raised my eyebrows, a question on the tip of my tongue, when suddenly, Yunho closed the distance between us. My heart started thumping crazily as I looked up at him wide eyed, our chest pressing together, his breathing escalated as well. He paused for a second, almost looking afraid, before bending down and grabbing the backs of my thighs, hauling me up against him. My arms wrapped around his neck instinctively and so did my legs around his hips, body shivering from the warmth his own body emanated against my cold one. Hongjoong’s nightgown slipped off my shoulders as Yunho lightly pushed it off, walking us towards the bed, leaning down and laying me down carefully. I stared up at him wordlessly, heart in my throat as he leaned down suddenly, staring intently into my eyes before he dipped his head down, lips pressing against my collarbones. My eyes widened and I gasped quietly, laying on the mattress unmoving, body tense from the strangeness of the feeling of Yunho’s soft lips brushing against my skin.

“You’re not a wench.” Yunho’s voice was deep as he pressed a kiss in the juncture between my neck and collarbones, my breath hitching for a second, “You’re not a slut.”

“Yunho—” I whispered confused, trying to find his gaze, but he wasn’t looking at me as he kissed the side of my neck so softly, I barely felt it. My skin was covered in goosebumps and I bit my lower lip as I started up at the ceiling.

“You’re not anyone’s whore—you’re not stupid.” Yunho’s voice was tense as he kissed up my neck, one hand suddenly holding my hips as I felt my body flush at his words. I didn’t think too deeply of what being his whore implied, he was my best friend after all. We had never touched each other inappropriately.

“You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” Yunho suddenly whispered in my ear and I let out a quiet breath, hand unconsciously coming up to hold on to his nape as he pulled back slightly, staring into my own eyes. His pupils were slightly dilated, but he looked so serious, “You’re gorgeous and you’re smart. We would’ve long died without your skills. Nobody patches up this ship like you can. Nobody can do what you can, you’re irreplaceable. That old fool didn’t know what he was saying, he was just jealous that a woman is better than he’ll ever be.”

I nodded wordlessly, drinking in his words, staring up in his endless eyes, the glint in them pulling me in, the world disappearing around us. It was just the two of us in this room, nobody and nothing could disturb our peaceful moment. He felt like heaven. Warm and soft. So protective, so careful. Yunho’s eyes, for a second, fell to my lips which had parted just seconds ago, but I wasn’t able to say anything as he leaned down, wetting his own lips with his tongue. I didn’t know what I wanted or why I felt this desperate need to feel his lips against mine, but suddenly, I felt very thankful when he kissed the side of my mouth, so close yet so far from where I yearned to feel his. We were best friends. Certainly not lovers; and a kiss on the lips…that opened up new doors, something more than friendship. And yes, we loved each other, but not like lovers do.

“Thank you.” I found myself whispering as my hand slipped up, fingers tangling in his hair as Yunho sighed, pressing his forehead against mine. He closed his eyes and finally, I felt his body relaxing, anger having dissipated. He looked serene as I studied his face and I smiled softly, wrapping my arms around his torso and pulling his body down, against mine. Yunho moved us up on the bed and cradled my head against his neck, his body weight never crushing me as he turned us to the side.

“I promise you’re safe with me.” He whispered in my ear and I nodded, burying my head in his neck, nose nuzzling against his flushed skin.

“I know.” I whispered back, gulping, pausing for a second, “I love you, Yunho.”

Silence wrapped around us, the waves crashing against the ship rocking it softly. The moon was high up in the clear sky, stars illuminating our route. Yunho stroked my hair, and I felt the smile on his face, in his words, “I love you too, Y/N.”

            Present time

            Sword clashing against sword rung out in the air loudly, metal scraping metal, a sound I was familiar with. My younger self would’ve winced at the strain it exerted on my left wrist as I pushed against my opponent’s sword, but I had years and years of training, unless I strained it in some odd way, no pain would usually follow after a sparring session. I felt a grin creeping up on my face as I pushed harder against Yunho’s own sword, his eyebrows furrowed, as I managed to throw him off balance. I stepped closer, invading his personal space as the both of us were panting, the beaming sun taking a tool on us as we’ve been sparing for hours now up on the deck. The waves were loud as they crashed offshore, some bigger and more menacing looking that the others. The wind was strong, but not harsh, sailing our ship smoothly as Jongho stood in the crow’s nest, binocular in his hands and maps splayed out around him. Wooyoung clung tightly against the shrouds, the muscles of his arms bulging, as he listened closely to whatever information Jongho shouted his way, Wooyoung quickly adjusting the sails according to whatever Jongho has said to him. Whenever Wooyoung and I would make eye contact he’d grin my way, sticking his tongue out, taking my attention off Yunho and making me accidentally lose a few rounds. No matter how much I complained to Yunho that it wasn’t fair as Wooyoung had distracted me, again, he paid no mind and claimed his victory, making Seonghwa shake his head at us in amusement as he stood leaning against the railing of the quarterdeck, looking down on the lively crew. There was something different in the air today, everyone’s mood seemed to be lighter, happier than usually. Despite Hongjoong being promised a lifetime of lavish when Siwon asked to meet with him and Hongjoong coming back empty handed, but littered with a few purple-coloured small bruises on his neck, the whole deal didn’t seem to bother him so much. It was new, Hongjoong could get very stressed and mad when a deal didn’t go his way, but there was something different about him this time, I could feel it radiating off him. He was steering the wheel, taking his position as Captain, as Seonghwa and him would convers from time to time.

Yunho’s chocolate brown eyes bore into mine as we paused for a second, my eyes watching the stray sweat drop roll down from his temple to his cheek and then jawline, Yunho’s eyes watching me closely when I looked back up his, fastening my heartbeat. There was something so different about the Yunho I grew up with and the Yunho standing in front of me right now. He wasn’t a boy anymore; he was a man. A tall, well-built, and ambitious man. He looked any challenge in the eyes and conquered them without a problem, always quick on his feet. His soft eyes would glaze over with determination whenever he set his eyes on something, always the last to back off if something wasn’t going his way. He was charming, and he always used it to his advantage, features soft and friendly, almost always smiling, a warm twinkle in his eyes. It was one of the few things which signalled that this Yunho, who’s leg I just kicked out of underneath him, was the same Yunho I had grown up with. He was still the little boy whom everyone loved from our village, he was still the little boy who’d share everything with me, even if he had little of it. He was still my best friend. Albeit a bit changed, but deep down it was still him. Yunho groaned as he lost balance and with a small push, he landed on his ass, throwing his sword down in frustration as I started giggling, lowering my own sword.

“Oh, don’t be such a cry-baby,” I mocked, pursing my lips at him, “You’ve been spending too much time with Mingi lately, it’s starting to rub off.”

It was good Mingi wasn’t around to hear us, because I wouldn’t hear the end of the fact that I dared call him a cry-baby. He could be quite dramatic at times, more demanding of attention than anyone else I have met so far.

“You wish,” Yunho rolled his eyes as he sighed loudly, his breathing ragged, “I’m not a cry-baby.”

“Then explain why you’ve been whining ever since we’ve started sparing.” I raised my eyebrows and placed my sword back in its holder, the weight of it familiar around my hips.

“I wasn’t!” Yunho quickly defended himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest looking like a child, “I told you I had to carry heavy barrels two days ago, my arms are still sore from them.”

“I don’t hear Yeosang and Jongho complaining, though.” I muttered playfully, earning a frustrated groan from Yunho. He narrowed his eyes at me in a fake glare and I chuckled as I extended my hand for him, to help him up. Yunho eyed it for a second before looking me in the eyes, beaming up at me. His smile took me off guard, heartbeat stuttering for a second, but before I could have much of a reaction, the wind was knocked out of my lungs. I yelped as I gripped Yunho’s biceps tightly, back colliding with the wooden floorboards loudly. I gaped up at Yunho, taken off by his actions, as he quickly straddled my hips and grabbed a hold of my neck, long fingers curling around my blazing skin. I was left speechless as my lips parted in a quiet gasp, wide eyes staring up at my best friend, who had a triumphant smirk on his lips. He leaned closer, his golden chain necklace with a big trident charm dangling in my face, as he chuckled. His second necklace, which I have gifted him a long time ago, was wrapped snuggly around his neck, the pink shell shinning in the sunlight.

“Never let your guard down,” He muttered, voice dropped to a low mumble, making me gulp as I finally closed my mouth. I felt warmth flush over my whole body, my cheeks probably burning from embarrassment, as I took in the way Yunho looked on top of me, white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso, the top few buttons undone, tan skin glistening underneath. Veins, very visible, travelled up his exposed forearms, and the ring all of Ateez members wore, dug into the flushed skin of my neck, a screaming reminder of the firm hold he had of it, but not restricting my airflow. He was just holding me in place. His dark brown hair was messy as the wind blew it in all directions, slightly wavy from the salty breeze, and it fell on his forehead, clinging to the sweaty skin in some places. His cheeks were flushed as he looked lost in my own eyes, before he quickly cleared his throat, “The fight is never over until one is knocked out.”

By some miracle, my voice came out steady and strong, “Is that what you’re trying to do right now?”

Yunho didn’t answer, a lopsided smirk appearing on his lips as he slightly sat back, pressure taken off my hips as if he knew I would make no move to try and fight him off, “You’ll have to squeeze if you want to knock me out—”

“Mate, seriously?!” Wooyoung’s shrill voice cut my words off as a loud thud landed not far from us, “Stop being so inappropriate in front of everyone!”

Before Yunho or I could say anything back to Wooyoung, he was by our side, grabbing Yunho’s bicep and yanking him off me, up to his feet. My body finally relaxed and I closed my eyes, taking a second to calm my racing heart, knowing that it would work now that Yunho wasn’t so close anymore.

“We were just sparing—” Yunho started saying when Wooyoung made a loud noise with his mouth, lips smacking together in a way it said he did not want to hear an explanation.

“You two do this almost daily, Yunho,” Wooyoung said accusingly, making me smile as I sat up, watching my two best friends throw irritated looks at each other, “And it’s disgusting and sickening to have to watch—”

“To have to watch two pirates train?” Yunho cut Wooyoung off, making the younger one sigh with a frown.

“That’s not training—” Wooyoung almost exclaimed, but cut himself off with an annoyed groan, looking down at me with an accusatory look, “Don’t just sit there and act innocent, missy.”

I laughed as I got up, dusting off my leather pants before placing my hands on my hips, “I didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Prude, stop yapping our ears off.”

“Yapping your ears off?!” Wooyoung sounded offended as he released his hold on Yunho and instead jumped towards me, his arms going around my neck as he bent me down, holding me in a headlock, loud laughter was leaving my lips as Wooyoung pretended to choke me.

“Somebody needs to do some damage control if—” Wooyoung glanced behind us, throwing a nod towards where Seonghwa and Hongjoong were standing, watching the scene unfold in amusement, “If the two authoritative figures just sit back and enjoy the show their fools put on for them!”

“I’m not a fool!” I said with laughter, grabbing Wooyoung’s arm to yank myself free. Wooyoung just stuck his tongue out before he loosened his hold and I pulled my head away, straightening up and holding my fists up in front of me in a challenge, “Come fight me, you fool.”

A dangerous glint appeared in Wooyoung’s eyes as he squared his shoulders back, taking up a fighting stance, fists in front of his face as I smirked at him, taking a step towards him. But before we could start a hand-to-hand combat, Yunho stepped in, pulling Wooyoung back by the shoulder, “Don’t you have something more useful to do? Jongho’s been glaring at you ever since you got off from your post so go do your job, pirate.”

Wooyoung scoffed but shook off Yunho’s hand from his shoulder, straightening his light jacket, before he looked at my best friend with disdain written over his features, “You can never take a joke, Yunho, hounding Y/N as if any of us would dare touch her inappropriately—”

“Get lost.” Yunho snapped before Wooyoung could finish his sentence and I tsked, walking up to Yunho and grabbing his hand. His fingers instantly intertwined with mine, a habit by now, as I wrapped my other hand around his bicep, slightly squeezing it.

“Be nice, Yunho,” I muttered as I jutted my lower lip out, looking at Wooyoung with an apologizing smile, “We were just playing around.”

“I know.” Yunho’s answer was quick, eyes meeting mine as I smiled at him sweetly.

“You know, my ass.” We heard Wooyoung mutter to himself as he stalked towards the shroud he was climbed up on previously, waving his hand at Jongho, who even high up in the sky, could be seen glaring at Wooyoung. I chuckled, knowing well that he was going to get an earful later for abandoning his post when they were navigating, setting the ship on the right track. My eyes left Wooyoung as I looked back at Yunho, who was already watching me, eyes soft and lips pulled in a small smile, his thumb suddenly caressing my knuckle. The action made me blush and I cleared my throat, looking away embarrassed.

“I have to start my own duties,” Yunho said as he leaned down slightly, to be eye level with me, throughout the years he continued growing meanwhile I stopped, the height difference between us quite big in the present, “Want to join me?”

I would’ve said yes, like I normally do, but my eyes fell on a body as she timidly made her way on the deck, eyes squinting at the harsh sunlight compared to how dim the lights were downstairs. The girl’s dress was relatively clean, but worn out a little, and her short hair was pulled in a low ponytail.

“I think I’ll stay here today, if you don’t mind.” I answered Yunho and he followed my line of sight, instantly understanding why I turned him down. He nodded and squeezed my hand before letting go, his body disappearing from mine as he walked away, headed underneath the deck. I missed the proximity of his body, his familiar scent which was comforting, but I pushed those thoughts aside as I approached the only other female on the ship with us. The pirates were watching her closely, curiously, however, Hongjoong didn’t look very pleased at the sight of her. He was against the idea of San keeping her, but he couldn’t do much when his Master-at-arms threatened to leave the crew behind if the presence of Ara was denied on Hongjoong’s ship. San was somebody I wasn’t very fond of, nor on good terms with. We were cordial to each other, could hold a pleasant conversation if in the mood, but we stayed out of each other’s business. Mainly because I knew what his business consisted of. I couldn’t do anything about the trafficking that went down, and I hated it. I hated seeing women imprisoned on our ship, getting sold off to heaven knows what types of horrible men. Hongjoong, San, and I have had many arguments about it, but in the end, I had to understand and learn that it was none of my concerns, that I just had to pretend that I knew nothing about it if I wanted to stay on this ship with Yunho. And for Yunho, I’d do anything.

“Hello.” I said softly, walking up to the petite girl, who jumped when she heard my voice, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She looked at me, her big, round eyes, staring at me with shock in them, before her eyebrows furrowed, “You’re a woman.”

I chuckled and nodded my head, “But you’re dressed in pirate clothes.”

I said nothing as I watched her connect the dots herself, a slightly hostile expression overtaking her face. I knew what she was thinking and I looked away, gulping, hoping she’d understand, “I’m a pirate, yeah. And I’m a woman, yes. I—”

I felt the need to tell her, to let her know that I hated what San did to her, and many more women, just as much as she did, “I couldn’t help—no, I’m not allowed to interfere with anyone else’s business on this ship, so I am sorry.”

Disappointment coated her expression before understanding washed over her. This girl was an open book, her expressions so telling of her feelings. Her big eyes shone with emotion and it felt like you stared into her soul each time you looked her in the eyes. She was beautiful, and her energy was fiery, simmering, and if challenged, it would burst. I have heard about how she tried to run away, save herself from getting sold and Mingi would’ve lost a few limbs if Yunho didn’t step in and tell San to back off when they made it back to the ship, yet this girl, she stood proud and stared San down with spite, promising to rain hell on him in front of the whole crew. That night, Yunho has held me tightly against his chest, when we went to bed, and promised to only treat me with respect and adoration. I knew that already, but I knew how much he hated San for what he did, so I just kissed his forehead and reassured him that I knew I was safe with him.

“My name is Im Ara.” The girl, Ara, introduced herself and extended her hand for me. I shook it instantly, smiling at her, glad that she accepted me.

“I’m Bae Y/N.” I introduced myself and Ara hummed, letting go of my hand as hers clasped behind her back, shoulders pulled back, “We don’t often see you on deck…”

Ara looked off in the distance, eyes lost on the sea as she nodded. She’s been here for two weeks already, and this was the second time I have seen her. I was worried for her, but I knew asking San about anything would result in an argument, so I just let the thought go, “It’s nice to get fresh air, even if it’s salty and the wind is cold.”

“Are you cold?” I asked with furrowed eyebrows, about to take off to grab my jacket from Seonghwa’s side, but Ara shook her head with a smile.

“No, it feels nice. It gets too hot in San—” She gulped, as if disgusted by having to say his name, “In San’s room. It’s small for two people and you can’t really open the window, or at least San won’t let me.”

I hummed, listening to her, sensing that she needed someone to talk to. I could feel eyes on us, and when I glanced up, Seonghwa was watching us with a sad look on his face. He tried to convince San to let her go the day they returned, but San was having none of it, pockets and a bag filled with coins and gold, “I’m not supposed to be here, actually, but I snuck out.”

A mischievous smile appeared on Ara’s lips as she chuckled, turning her head to look at me, “He fell asleep while I was glaring at him. He thought I was curious about his childhood just because I bandaged him up after he kept hissing and getting frustrated at himself for not being able to do it himself.”

Yes, that did sound like San. He rarely asked for help, usually closing himself inside his room, only when things were getting too hard or serious would he ask for help. And it was usually Yeosang the one he sought out, or Hongjoong, who seemed the most willing to form any kind of bond with the mercenary.

“Just be careful with San,” I couldn’t help but warn her, afraid for her safety next to that unpredictable man, “He’s ruthless.”

“I know.” Ara said, suddenly a smile creeping up on her lips, “But I can also be scary, he should’ve just sold me off when he had the chance.”

There it was, the little simmer turning into a fire in her eyes as she looked determined, a secret promise probably to herself glimmering in her eyes before it was all gone, blinking around curiously, taking in what was happening around her for the first time, “I could never climb up there.”

She said as she watched Jongho, then Wooyoung, who was dangling upside down from the shroud as of now, laughing loudly as Hongjoong noticed and took off from his post, eyebrows pulled in a frown, expression tired but angry as he stormed towards the younger one, who was getting yelled at by Jongho too. I couldn’t help but laugh as I heard Seonghwa sigh loudly from above, going to the wheel, taking Hongjoong’s place as Ara hid her mouth behind her palms as Wooyoung tried to climb up higher when Hongjoong drew his sword out in a warning manner, making me laugh as Ara started giggling as well.

“They might be men, but at the heart, they are still just a bunch of children.” I said with a shake of my head and Ara seemed amused as she looked at me, nodding in agreement.

“What’s your job on this ship?” She asked curiously.

“I fix up the ship if it’s damaged and improve it whenever I have new ideas, Yeosang usually helps out. And I also stay by Yunho’s side, mostly helping with whatever he needs or can’t do.” I answered Ara and she hummed, suddenly a look of sadness crossing her features.

“I’m only here to rot away, my beautiful future stolen away.” She muttered, mostly to herself, before looking past me, “I was supposed to become a famous singer. I’m good for nothing else, I can’t cook well, and I’m clumsy too, I often disassociate from the real world, especially when it gets too much or I’m feeling bored. It keeps me going, but here…not even those are helping. I feel useless and helpless. San won’t let me do anything either, he just locks me up in his room when he leaves, and if he’s there, he just antagonizes me with his presence.”

I felt bad for her as I watched her eyes glass over with tears, making me feel useless too in the moment. That is, until I realized I could help her out with something little. Something that would come in handy too one day, “Do you want to learn how to fight?”

Ara’s eyes quickly fell on me, wide as she looked surprised by the question, “That’s not very ladylike.”

I nodded, agreeing with her, “It’s not very ladylike, but you’ll be able to protect yourself from anyone.”

From San. But I didn’t dare say that, even the walls had ears here, I didn’t want to start unnecessary drama. However, as if Ara read my mind, a small understanding look crossed her eyes and she nodded, looking very excited, “I should be able to do that, at least. Can you teach me?”

I smiled widely, motioning for her to follow me towards the centre of the deck, where we had more space, “Of course, I can. We’ll start with something simple today and I’ll teach you more once you master the new skills.”

“Alright, let’s do that.” Ara nodded as I took my sword off, not wanting it to get in the way of our training. We’d focus on simple self-defence today, and if she was good, then perhaps I’ll show her how to handle a dagger.

            Moreover, Ara proved herself to be quite good, catching onto things fast as she copied my moves quickly, and only struggled a few times here and there. She could easily free herself from a chokehold now, whether the attacker was holding her from the back or was keeping her in a headlock. Ara seemed to enjoy our little training session, giggling whenever my fingers accidentally brushed against her neck, ticklish. Yunho, once done with his duties in the supply room, had come up on deck and watched as I trained Ara. He’d throw in tips for her, guide her when she seemed lost by the way I was holding her, not knowing how to free herself. She asked if we could have a duel, with swords, but I told her she needed more training for that to happen as she was already tired from just an hour of learning self-defence. But she kept insisting, so I gave in at last, handing her Yunho’s dagger as I held my own in my hand. Yunho had gone off, discussing the sailing plans with Hongjoong and Jongho, Wooyoung probably gone to cook us dinner, with the help of Yeosang and Mingi. Seonghwa was sailing the boat, eyes lost as he gazed at the dark sea, clutching his compass tightly in his free hand. If I wouldn’t have been busy with Ara, I would have approached him and comforted him, knowing what type of thoughts clouded his mind when he looked so unfocused.

“Hold it like this,” I said as Ara and I stood side by side, holding the handle of the dagger in my open palm, “and then…flip it.”

Ara watched as I flipped the dagger with my middle, and ring finger, and pinkie, gripping it firmly in a stabbing hold. Ara’s eyes widened slightly before she quickly got to work, slowly trying to do what I did a second ago, the dagger almost falling out of her hand. I watched as she tried again, clumsily flipping it before she puffed frustrated, and then did it again and again, the action getting smoother with each try.

“You’re quite good at this, Ara.” I praised with an excited chuckle, her eyes shining with joy at my compliment, raising her hand and doing it again flawlessly, ready to stab anyone.

“Will you teach me how to stab someone?” She sounded too excited in spite of having asked something so dark, and her demeanour slightly faltered when she realized, grimacing at me, but I just chuckled and shook my head at her. I wasn’t new to violence nor, unfortunately, having to kill someone.

“I think it’s too soon, you barely got to hold a dagger.” I winked at her but grabbed her wrist still, standing behind her, and guiding her hand how to slash someone without killing them, “If you do it like that, you won’t kill them, but you certainly will leave a nasty gash on their skin.”

“Good.” Ara whispered to herself, eyebrows slightly furrowed, probably forgetting that I could hear her since I was leaning over her. I released her wrist and stepped back, opening my mouth to tell her that we were done for today, how I should check if Yunho needs me for anything before going to the kitchen to help Wooyoung, another helping hand always needed down there. But before any sound could leave my lips, someone’s shout halted what everyone was previously doing.

“Ara!” It was San, his deep voice unmistakable, as I turned around to see him storming towards us. Ara tensed, grip tightening around the dagger, as she whirled around, hiding her hand behind her back, “What are you doing?!”

San’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed and he looked furious as he stopped just an inch away from her, glaring down at Ara. I expected her to shrink back underneath his intimidating gaze, but Ara just straightened her back and raised her head so that she could look into his eyes.

“None of your business—”

“It is my business.” San cut her off and his eyes momentarily glanced my way before he looked back at Ara. Yunho was watching us closely, but when I shook my head at him subtly, he returned his attention onto the conversation he was having with Hongjoong and Jongho, knowing very well that I could handle myself. And that San wasn’t actually a threat to me, he wouldn’t explicitly hurt me. He couldn’t. Unless he wanted to die.

“I’ll only ask once more, Ara, what are you doing?” San’s voice dropped an octave, face going blank as his sharp eyes bore into Ara’s, who just smirked back at him and slowly revealed her hand holding the dagger.

“I was learning how to defend myself while you were sleeping, San.” She said his name with spite, lips stretching into a wide smirk when San’s jaw clenched, hands balling up into fists. He was fuming, it was very obvious as his mask slipped for a second. He glanced down at the dagger Ara was holding in her hand and suddenly his head snapped in my direction, and if his glare could kill, I would be dead right now. I stood my ground and raised my eyebrows at him nonchalantly.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” San’s voice was levelled, but the way his jaw kept clenching and unclenching was a tell-tale sign he was on the verge of bursting from his anger.

“Considering the fact that she’s on a ship full of men, I deemed it necessary she learns how to defend herself,” I answered San, taking a step towards him, but still keeping a respectful distance between us, “in case someone tries doing something to her.”

In case you try doing something to her, San. But I didn’t have to say that out loud, the implication hanging heavily in the air between us as Ara’s lip trembled for a second before she quickly composed herself as San’s gaze snapped back to her. He grabbed her wrist harshly and my hands twitched, wanting to yank his hold off her, but knew better to not touch San unless I wanted to lose my fingers.

“Don’t think you can use any of the shit Y/N taught you against me, Ara,” San sneered, Ara hissing as she abruptly released the dagger, San’s fingers digging into her skin, “You’ll be dead before you can even grab a weapon.”

“I’d rather try and die than continue living with you.” Ara spat back and whined as her free hand went to grip San’s wrist, which was squeezing her too hard. My eyebrows furrowed and I decided that I couldn’t just stand there and watch him hurt her.

“Let go of her, San.” My voice was stern, eyes steely as they bore into the side of his head, making San scoff as his blazing eyes set on me.

“Shut up, Y/N,” He hissed, releasing Ara as he closed in on me, I wasn’t scared of him, “You know she wishes for nothing more than my death and yet you teach her how to fight?! How to yield a dagger?!”

I chuckled and nodded, “Yes, because her life was taken away by you. Because you never gave her a chance…or any of the other women you sold. Because you think you can get away with everything, thinking your sins will be forgiven, but San—they will never be, not by me, and not by the gods watching over us.”

“There’s no such thing as gods and sins, Y/N,” San chuckled, watching me arrogantly, “So you can keep on wishing for my demise, praying, because it will never happen.”

“Why are you so sure?” I raised one eyebrow, glancing behind him to watch Ara for a second, who was slightly shaking, but looked grateful that I was taking her side, “I wouldn’t have so much fate in myself if I were you, you’re human, and you are vincible.”

“Ara isn’t strong enough to hurt me—”

“Don’t underestimate her because she’s a woman.” I snapped, voice slightly raising as I got triggered, knowing very well how San viewed women, “She’ll be your doom, San, you should’ve let her go when you had the chance.”

“And you should mind your own fucking business,” San hissed, getting all up in my face, his breath hitting my cheeks as we stared each other down, “How many times did Hongjoong tell you to leave me alone?”

I scoffed, irritated, “You think I can ignore the fact that you traffic women when I’m a woman myself?!”

I knew I was getting louder, but so was San, attracting some looks from the pirates who were lounging around on the deck, probably waiting for dinnertime, “You, a woman…perhaps you should act more like it—oh, well, you are getting quite emotional over nothing—”

“Your insults mean nothing.” I cut him off, glaring at him viciously, teeth grinding against each other, “I have zero care about how you view me, your opinion is not important.”

“Exactly,” San chuckled, “your opinion means nothing to me either, so I don’t see why you’re always all up in my business, trying to sabotage me.”

I could see movement from where Hongjoong, Jongho, and Yunho were huddled together, but I didn’t take my eyes off San, breaking eye contact right now would mean defeat.

“I think you sabotaged yourself this time, San,” I said with a chuckle and grabbed his shoulder, “I’ll make sure to teach Ara all the important arteries and how to cut them—”

“Do just that,” His voice was daring, bearing a promise, a threat, “And I’ll snap your neck in half.”

But his threat meant nothing to me, knowing very well the second he touched me, despite being a precious asset to Hongjoong, San would be dead in seconds. Yunho would never allow him to breathe for a second longer if he took my life. But Ara didn’t know all that and she quickly shook her head, taking a few steps towards us, hesitant, but determined to get San to calm down, to forget all about it. And just as I wanted to reassure her and push San away since his hand was raising to grab me by the neck, he was gone from in front of me, my own grip disappearing from his shoulder.

“What did you just say?” Yunho seethed as he held San by the collar, their noses almost touching as San rolled his eyes dramatically, acting nonchalant all of a second just to piss off Yunho more.

“Oh, no, are you going to snap my neck in half now?” He taunted, jutting his lips out as he glanced at me with a smirk before looking back at Yunho, “How sickening. I suppose this happens when a bitch has you wrapped around her fingers—”

San couldn’t finish his sentence as Yunho punched his jaw so hard the shorter one lost balance as his body was thrown to the right. My eyes widened, Ara gasping next to me, as Hongjoong was by our side in a second, mouth opened to yell at them to stop, but Yunho grabbed San by the collar again and suddenly started dragging him, San having not quite recovered from the punch yet. What was Yunho doing?! My heart picked up as I watched him bend San over the railing, pushing him just enough that if San even as much as flinched, he’d fall overboard. Into the cold sea. Swallowed by the deadly waves.

“Jeong Yunho!” Hongjoong’s harsh voice rung out loudly, everyone by now watching the scene unfold. Ara grabbed my wrist and I brushed her grip off, not meaning to, but I didn’t know how to react. Yunho has never punched any of the crewmates. Despite our differences, everyone was always cordial, nice, to the others, accepting them the way they were. I’ve seen Yunho angry before, but never with eyes that could kill. His body wasn’t shaking, but his anger was so strong you could see it radiating off him. Hongjoong shouted his name again, but it fell to deaf ears as Yunho bared his teeth at San, who was gripping the railing so hard his knuckled had turned white.

“If you threaten my woman ever again or dare touch her, I won’t hesitate to kill you, Choi San.” Yunho’s deep voice boomed as he hissed at San, “Know your place, pirate.”

Despite being in such a vulnerable position, where just a light push from Yunho could end his life, San started laughing loudly, maniacally, as if what Yunho had just said was the funniest thing in the four seas and four kingdoms, “Your woman!”

His voice travelled over the water, ringing loudly, and I bit my lower lip as I felt the eyes of the other pirates on me. Seonghwa had come down from the quarterdeck and was walking very slowly towards Yunho, prepared to haul him and San away from the railing as Hongjoong silently nodded at him approvingly. My heart was thundering in my chest by now, a bile rising to my throat as I felt sick as San continued taunting Yunho for no reason, “You call her your woman, Yunho, yet you aren’t even man enough to make her yours, you fucking pathetic idiot!”

San’s words felt like a dagger thrown into my own heart and I let out a shuddered breath, face flaming at his words, hating that such topic was being discussed in front of so many people. It was nobody’s business what Yunho and I did in private, especially when we’ve been friends for over fifteen years now, not even one inappropriate touch from him. Perhaps I wished for him to just finally give in and act upon his desires, perhaps I wished San was wrong with his insinuation, perhaps I wished I wasn’t so irrevocably in love with Yunho. Perhaps I wished it wasn’t so obvious to everyone around us as we remained so oblivious of the other’s true feelings. Sometimes it hurt, but sometimes it felt so good. So warm and safe. So stable and comforting. But sometimes it was so scary, it felt like I was drowning. The thought of there being the possibility of losing him one day, of losing a part of myself, creating a void in my heart never to be filled again by anything. So, when I saw Seonghwa almost by Yunho’s side, who’s whole body started shaking as he was on the verge of breaking, I screamed.

“Yunho!” My voice was shrill, panicked, scared, “Stop! Please.”

His whole body froze, as if he was reminded that I was still there, seeing everything, hearing everything. Seonghwa flinched away as San was hauled backwards, sent to the floor roughly as Yunho yanked him away from the railing, hands fisting at his sides as he didn’t glance my way. He stared at the ground, shaking his head in probably shame and disappointment, before he stormed off, feet hitting the floorboards heavily. Hongjoong sighed loudly and long next to me, jaw clenched as he glared down at San, who just sprawled out on the floor, chuckling to himself quietly. I couldn’t help but stare at him with hatred, my body burning, wishing I could throw him overboard too.

“You’re a fucking asshole, San,” Hongjoong hissed at him as he went and grabbed the man’s collar, hauling him up from the floor, “Stay out of my sight today and tomorrow if you want to live.”

“Ai, Captain, ai!” San saluted mockingly, even bowing his head as he started laughing, before he straightened back up and took off towards the stairs leading under the deck, towards our private quarters.

“Don’t make me come and get you, Ara.” He singsonged, glancing at the girl from the corner of his eyes, his expression scaring me for the first time. He was laughing, but his eyes were filled with a burning want to kill, so easy to read them. My heart clenched as Ara suck in a harsh breath next to me before very slowly she started walking towards him, hiding her trembling hands behind her. If anything happens to her today, it’s my fault. I did all of this. I started it. I shouldn’t have meddled with her, what if she dies? What if she dies because I was stupid—

“Y/N,” Seonghwa’s soft voice invaded my ears, interrupting my thoughts, “Look at me.”

I looked away from San and Ara just as she got to his side, and he grabbed her by the nape as he veered her down the stairs, “It’s not your fault. Stop thinking, I can see it in your eyes. Nothing happened.”

I shook my head and bit my lower lip as I felt tears in my eyes, “I fucked everything up.”

“You didn’t,” Seonghwa whispered and he pulled me into a tight hug, hiding my face in his chest as I started crying, “You did nothing wrong. San won’t touch Ara, trust me, she’s safe for now. He’ll calm down and act a little hostile towards you and Yunho, but that’s nothing new. And Yunho will be fine, you know he always is, he just needs time to clear his thoughts and analyse his actions. Trust him and your bond, alright?”

I didn’t want to answer him verbally, so I just nodded my head, sniffing as Seonghwa patted my head, Hongjoong passing by us with a loud sigh, shouting at the rest of the pirates to get back to their duties, the freakshow over. Yunho will come around, he always does. He needs to.

            Up until dinner I haven’t seen Yunho again, he had seemed to disappear without a trace, and I knew trying to find him would put him on edge, so I sucked it up, and helped Wooyoung with cooking dinner instead. I wasn’t as talkative as usually and Mingi noticed, so he brought it up with a curious glance which made Yeosang mutter something to him that made the taller one shut up. I shouldn’t have been surprised that what happened up on the deck was already spreading around like wildfire, gossiping, was a vicious thing the pirates on this ship seemed to love doing. Yeosang didn’t pry as he looked at me with a comforting gaze, and I nodded wordlessly, glad that Wooyoung seemed oblivious to what’s happened only a few good minutes ago. He either didn’t know or he didn’t care, making me feel slightly better as he gave me a side hug, and then instructed me to cut up some carrots as Mingi kept messing it up, cutting them very uneven, making Wooyoung scold him multiple times. Yeosang remained quiet as he stirred the stew, asking questions here and there when he noticed I started losing focus, thoughts whirling in my head. My body was there with them, but my mind wasn’t thoroughly present, straying to thoughts about Yunho and where he could possibly be at. There weren’t many places he could hide away on this ship, but he somehow had found one spot where I could never find him. I had no idea where it was, I had tried to find him one time when we had a big argument and he disappeared for the day, but he was nowhere. I had the worst panic attack that evening and if it weren’t for Seonghwa and Yeosang, I might’ve choked from the lack of air. The boys chatting brought me back to the present and Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the uncut carrot, raising his eyebrows at me questioningly. I just avoided his gaze and continued cutting, trying to stay present as the hungry pirates came down complaining, asking Wooyoung when dinner would be ready. It didn’t take too long after that for the kitchen to fill up with the crew, Wooyoung’s tasty stew’s scent wafting in the air as Mingi helped him take down the big cauldron from the stove, Wooyoung shouting loudly for everyone to take their seats. The crew dug into their dinner like some hungry sea creatures, a satisfied smile on Wooyoung’s face as he sat down to my left, bumping his shoulder with mine in a small thanking gesture. I flashed him a smile, which I knew didn’t look very genuine, but he ignored it as he ate his own portion. My appetite was gone and the empty seat to my left was a screaming reminder of today’s happenings. I sighed loudly as my head hung low, gaining Seonghwa’s attention from across me.

“Hey,” He called out softly, the loud chatter of the pirates almost drowning his voice out. I looked up, tired, as I tried to swallow the stew in my mouth. It tasted better than anything I have eaten in any of the four kingdoms, yet my stomach just refused to take it in. My throat slightly closed up on me and I almost choked as my eyes slightly widened, “Don’t push yourself, Y/N.”

I grabbed my cup filled with water and quickly washed down the stew with it, it slightly helped, “I’ll put aside your and Yunho’s portion for tomorrow, you can go to sleep if you want to.”

My eyes filled with tears a bit as I nodded, Wooyoung’s eyes on me as he looked at us confused, “Where’s Yunho? And why are you not eating? Something happened?”

Seonghwa nodded and with a scrutinizing look, and Wooyoung got the memo to shut up for now, “Yunho’s in your room, Y/N, I saw him entering when I came down for dinner.”

My heart halted for a second before it sped up and I nodded, wiping my mouth with a handkerchief, “Thank you, Seonghwa. Dinner is very tasty, Wooyoung, I just don’t have an appetite right now.”

Wooyoung eyed me for a second before he nodded, watching me get to my feet as I waved at Seonghwa and him, scurrying away to my room. To Yunho’s room. To our room. I was nervous, I didn’t know if Yunho wanted to see me or if he wanted to talk to me, but I couldn’t go on ignoring him, pretending that my thoughts weren’t eating me up whole. I felt horrible for what happened earlier and I knew Yunho blamed himself for it, beating himself up for something he wasn’t guilty of. Given it more thought, it was San’s fault. All of it. He shouldn’t have overreacted and created a scene. Ara had the right to know how to defend herself, and like he said, she wouldn’t be able to take him down just yet, so I truly couldn’t wrap my mind around San’s desperate anger. Perhaps I gave Ara a flicker of hope, and that was dangerous, but I saw how badly she needed it.

I knocked on the door as I arrived to our room, sucking in a deep breath when Yunho said nothing, knowing it was me. I pushed the door open slowly, peering inside before walking in. Yunho was standing before our desk, a few parchments of paper unruled as he read over the words jutted down with ink. His body tensed when I greeted quietly, walking further inside and shutting the door behind myself. Yunho said nothing, just threw a small glance my way, before going back to his lists. He was writing down what we needed to get once we hit land, our ammunition running low as well as our fresh water. I walked to our closet and opened it, divided equally so that we’d both have space for our clothes. The left side was mine and the right was his. Our clothes neatly folded and organized carefully. I had a tendency to over organize things, it was probably one of the few reasons why Yunho didn’t take me down to the supply room when I was feeling antsy. On those days, I’d clean the whole deck and everyone’s room as it was the only thing which helped me calm down. I grabbed my nightgown and quickly undressed myself, struggling with the straps of the cloth wrapped around my torso. I had to reach around my middle to undo it, which was straining my shoulder, and if it were any other day, I would’ve asked for Yunho’s help, but I knew he was keeping his distance. We always offered privacy to the other when we were changing, our backs to each other, but Yunho’s body was too stiff, shoulders pulled back and head hung low as he didn’t sit down in the chair. I successfully unclasped the strap and unwrapped the fabric from my body, letting a content sigh out loudly, my muscles finally relaxing. I have never gotten quite used to the way it tightly hung around my torso, pulling on the skin, barely showing anything off to the prying eyes. The crew might know that I am a woman, but I do not want them to fix their hungry gazes on me, eating me up with their eyes as I were a meal. I hated it with my whole soul. I hated how San had looked at me the first time he had realized I was a woman, wheels turning in his head, eyebrows raising subtly as he took in my body, probably calculating how much I was worth if he were to sell me off. Yunho had stepped between us, sensing my discomfort and knowing San well enough, so with a nudge of his head he sent San away, the younger man smirking to himself before he made eye contact with me again, tauntingly. I shook my head at the memory and quickly pulled the nightgown over my head, pushing my leather pants off and taking my socks off too. Yunho was still silent, too silent.

I cleared my throat as I folded my pants, glancing behind me, “Are you writing the supply list?”

It was a dumb question, we both knew he was doing just that, but I needed him to speak to me. The quiet stretched between us as my body tensed, desperate for Yunho to just talk to me.

“Yes.” His answer was curt, but at least he answered. His voice held no emotion and I closed my eyes for a second before I placed my pants in the wardrobe, closing the door of it. I didn’t know what to say next. Usually, we’d talk about whatever that has happened during our day, random thoughts which came to our mind and whatever crazy things we did while we were younger, reminiscing on the past. But tonight, I didn’t know what to bring up. I wanted us to talk about what has happened, but I knew it would send Yunho away. I couldn’t fall asleep if I knew he was angry because of me.

“You didn’t come down for dinner.” I opted to say, walking next to him, stopping a respectable distance away. Yet, it made Yunho stiffen as he clumsily grabbed a parchment and walked away, towards where the small window was. The single candle burning on the desk didn’t provide enough light to lit up the whole room, Yunho couldn’t see anything on his parchment there.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Yunho answered, eyebrows furrowing as he brought the parchment closer to his face.

“You can’t see anything over there, Yunho.” I sighed out, leaning against the desk. His jaw clenched and he hummed, before very reluctantly, he walked back beside me, but kept a huge distance between us, even bringing out the chair, but not sitting down on it. I wanted to scoff and roll my eyes, but I bit my tongue and just watched him, eyebrows slightly furrowing.

“You didn’t stay for too long at dinner.” Yunho pointed out absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the parchment as he picked up his pen and scribbled something down on the parchment. I was half convinced he was just doodling nonsense down on it at this point.

“I didn’t have an appetite.” I answered quietly, looking down at the floor, when suddenly his eyes raised and stopped on me. I felt small under Yunho’s scrutinizing gaze, eyes drinking me in before he shook his head and he averted his gaze, slamming the parchment down on the desk. I flinched and looked at him wide eyed, noticing the way his eyebrows were pulled together. He turned around and walked to the closet, his steps harsh, and threw the door open. He pulled out a clean shirt and some short pants, which I had cut for him, and started undressing himself. I quickly turned around and gulped as I walked to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, gripping the sheets tightly. Something angered him, but I didn’t know what. I hated it when he didn’t talk to me, when he didn’t tell me what the problem was. I somewhat knew what it was, but I wanted him to say it out loud. I wanted us to discuss it.

“You shouldn’t starve yourself, Y/N—” I looked up sharply at him, eyebrows furrowed as I opened my mouth to shut down his assumption, but Yunho was turned towards me, shirtless, and his pants hanging low on his hips. In the golden glow of the candlelight, his tan skin was glowing, his dark wavy hair falling over his forehead messily and his veins bulged as they travelled up from his hands to his arms. His body was toned, muscles well-defined from having to carry so many barrels almost daily and the continuous sparing sessions. I knew I wasn’t supposed to look, to stare at him so shamelessly, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Yunho looked radiant. I was breathless, but quickly realized what I was doing, and tore my eyes off him as I stared at the wall to my right. Yunho remained frozen for a few minutes as I gathered my thoughts, embarrassed.

“I’m not starving myself, Yunho,” I mumbled with a sigh, cheeks flushed, “I just wasn’t able to eat anything tonight.” Because I didn’t know where you were. Because I didn’t know what you were doing, what you were thinking. Because I didn’t know when you’d open up yourself again to me. There were so many things I wished to say to him, but I knew it would only drive him away even more.

“You let your mood influence you too much.” His words were sharp, as if he was lecturing me. That was rich coming from him.

“You are the one to talk,” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I couldn’t help it as I raised my eyebrows at him, “when you run off hiding at the smallest inconvenience.”

Why was I bringing this up? Why was I starting a fight? This is not what I wanted. I just wanted Yunho to smile again and forget everything San has said to him.

“I don’t run off.” Yunho snapped, nose flaring as he threw the shirt around his shoulders, “I don’t hide, I just—I need time. To cool off. To sort out my thoughts.”

“And you leave me standing there like an idiot each time you do that, worrying—” My throat closed in on me as Yunho’s eyes watched me sharply, the fire in them burning me up against my own will, “Worrying when you’ll acknowledge me again. Worrying whether you’ll push me away for good this time. You’re always doing this, Yunho, always.”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!” His answer came quickly as his eyebrows furrowed and I chuckled humourlessly, licking my lips annoyed.

“Yet you always hurt me when you do that.” My response was quick, quiet, but I knew it was sharp. I knew it was the last thing Yunho intended to do, and I knew he hated it when he made me feel like that. His cold façade crumbled for a second, and I saw it in his eyes, the guilt eating him up alive, the helplessness he felt; but it was quickly gone, face morphing into a frown. I scoffed and stood up.

“What are you afraid of, Yunho?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. There was an edge to my voice, a challenge, “Why do you always run off? Why do you always push me away?”

Yunho shook his head, face pulling into a grimace as I walked closer to him, his eyes falling on the floor. His body was tense, defensive, as he tried to button up his shirt, jaw clenched, “Why do you never let me see you?”

“Because—” Yunho’s voice rose an octave before he steadied himself, shaking his head, trying to compose himself, “Because I will say things I will regret. Because I will do things I will regret. I don’t think straight when I’m angry, Y/N, I’m—I’m impulsive and I don’t want to do something that I will hurt you with. I care—I care for you deeply and I want to keep you safe, and I want to protect you, but sometimes—sometimes I’m the one who you need to stay away from.”

“Bullshit.” I spat, eyebrows furrowing as I stalked close to him stopping merely inches from his body, shaking my head disapprovingly, “You would never hurt me willingly, Yunho. If only you stopped running away, we could talk things out. I don’t want to constantly wonder where you are and what you are doing, it’s draining.”

“I am hurting you right now by not being honest!” Yunho snapped, wide eyes staring at me, more to his words, as he bit his lower lip. His eyes strayed from my face, down to my lips, my neck, and collarbones peeking out from underneath my nightgown, stopping on the mess of curls on top of my head. There was something dark in his gaze, surfacing like he’s been suppressing it for long, hidden somewhere deep inside his mind, never to see the light of day. His body was warm, drawing me in, pulling me closer. My breath hitched as he licked his lips again, his eyes on my own lips, breathing irregular. My heart pounded against my ribcage, palms sweaty as I gripped my nightgown, a yearning so grave overtaking my sense I could barely stay rooted to my place.

“You just have to say it, Yunho, you know that,” I whispered, eyelids fluttering as he let out a harsh breath, hitting my face, “I won’t say no.”

“That’s the problem.” His voice was deep as he muttered, jaw clenched as his fingers twitched beside him.

“If we both want it—” I gulped, hesitant but daring as my hand reached out, finger hooking with his, the touch sending an electric shock through my body, “There’s no problem at hand, Yunho, if we both want it. San—” It was disgusting to utter his name in such scenario, but for once in his life that man had said something true, something right, “San was right about one thing. You could—you could make me your woman, and I would want that, Yunho, I really do.”

I was conscious of what I had just confessed to. The love I harboured for Yunho has for long not been platonic. I pushed it to the deepest darkest place in my mind, scared of Yunho’s reaction if he ever were to know, but I just couldn’t help it. Not when he was looking back at me with the same look in his eyes as mine, burning anything in its way, yearning for something more we could so easily have. Yunho’s breath hitched as my words sunk deeper in his mind, mouth falling slightly open as his finger squeezed mine harshly as he intertwined our fingers, palm pressed against palm. This simple touch said so much, it wanted so much more, it was pleading for more. But Yunho’s next words just left my heart sinking into my stomach, trying to convey the disappointment from my eyes.

“I can’t, Y/N, I just can’t.” He whispered, hanging his head low as he sucked in a deep breath, “You are so precious to me, I could—I could never lay a finger on you and taint you. I just—I can’t allow myself to ruin you. Not when I can have you like this next to me for the rest of my life. When I know I love you and you love me back just as much. When I know you’re my best friend, the only person I can wholeheartedly trust and cherish. I don’t want to lose what we have now.”

His words felt like a knife was pushed down my chest, ripping my skin apart, leaving an open wound. The rocking of the ship knocked me off balance as my legs momentarily seemed to lose force, but before Yunho could catch me, I pulled my hand from his and stumbled back, needing the distance. He didn’t want me the same way I wanted him. He would never love me the way I wanted him to love me. He was too good to use me for his own selfish needs. If he wanted to, he would’ve already. My body trembled from the sudden drop of temperature as I walked to our bed, sitting down and pulling the covers back. The dreaded void was back in my chest, I had to swallow multiple times to fight the tears back from my eyes. It was alright. I could live with having Yunho the way I always had him. I could live with loving him like a best friend should. I could live on like I always had up until tonight. It was fine. I pulled the covers over my body as I shifted closer to the wooden wall, turning my back to Yunho as I curled up in a ball, squeezing my eyes shut and willing my brain to shut up, the voices going away in just mere seconds. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t want to speak. And as I heard Yunho shuffle around in the room for a few more seconds, I succumbed to nothingness, allowing the darkness to pull me in.

            Some mornings were easier than others, some gloomier, and some more energetic. Sometimes the bed was too comfortable to get out, too warm and smelling like your favourite person in the world, but still, duty called. It waited for you and you had no other choice. My eyes were closed as I shifted slightly around, stretching my left arm over my head as I mumbled mindlessly, brain foggy with sleep as I wasn’t quite awake yet. Today was a gloomier morning, when sleep didn’t quite want to let me go, dreams painting my mind. And a feather like brush against my shoulder made it even harder to open my eyes. The sensation kept going as it brushed against my collarbone, lightly nipping at the skin as I felt the hotness of another human looming over me, so close, but not entirely touching me. A shuddered breath left my lips as a kiss was pressed between the juncture of my neck and shoulder, body tingling with a sensation so familiar yet so unknown. I hummed as the lips pressed firmer against my skin, on the side of my neck as I turned my head to the left to leave more space for the attacker, left hand coming down and tangling into soft waves of kinky hair. The fog had started slowly lifting from my mind, eyebrows softly furrowing at the flush overtaking my whole body as a soft moan left my lips, when a pair of lips pressed against a particular spot harder, fingers gripping onto hair harder. My eyes fluttered open at last, staring at the wooden wall, breathing hitched as my body reacted to the ministrations done to it, until the fog completely disappeared. Until I froze, until I felt lips nipping against my jawline. My fingers untangled from Yunho’s wavy hair and I scrambled to sit up, eyes wide and breathing uneven as Yunho and I’s heads almost knocked together. He stared at me surprised, as if he didn’t understand why I reacted the way I did, as if waking up to your best friend kissing all over your body was normal. As if he didn’t just confess last night that he only saw me as his best friend, forever.

“Stop.” I croaked out, voice hoarse and heavy with sleep as my lips slightly trembled, “You can’t do that, Yunho.”

He looked hurt as he scooted away slightly, warmth disappearing with him as I threw the covers off myself, clumsily getting out of bed, “We’re friends.”

Yunho looked offended hearing that, I didn’t understand why, “Friends don’t kiss each other like that, Yunho. We need to set new boundaries, because this isn’t working anymore. You’re a man and I’m a woman. Our minds, and bodies, aren’t that of children anymore.”

Yunho’s eyes flashed with hurt at my words, but what he didn’t know was that I felt the same way when he told me those things last night. That I still felt like my heart was stomped into nothing last night. I turned my back to him, something I hated doing, as I walked to the wardrobe and took my clothes out for the day, “From now on, I’ll change in the washroom. You can do it in here while I’m gone.”

Before Yunho could say anything, I stormed off, blinking away the tears in my eyes, ignoring the yearning and the suffocating feeling in my throat, the harsh pounding of my heart. If he wanted us to be best friends, we needed a new set of boundaries established.

After having changed into presentable clothes for the day, I walked to the kitchen, having been to my room previously, but Yunho was gone by then. I pushed the anxiety of not knowing where he was down as I opened the door to the kitchen, surprised to see Ara standing by the stove, frowning deeply at it. I approached her and cleared my throat, not wanting to startle her. She glanced behind her and relaxed when she saw it was just me.

“Good morning.” I greeted her and stopped by the sink, watching her.

“Morning.” She muttered quietly, eyes still on the stove as if she was having a silent battle with it, “I give up!”

My eyebrows rose as I watched her confused, a bowl of scrambled eggs sitting on the unlit stove. Putting two and two together, I chuckled and approached her, lightly pushing her out of the way. I grabbed a match and lit it, lighting up the fireplace for Ara.

“That’s how you do it…” She muttered to herself and nodded at me in thanks, placing her eggs on the stove. As she wasn’t paying attention to me, I allowed myself to take in the other woman, eyes running over her face and any exposed skin carefully, looking for signs of any abuse or manhandling from San. But her skin was flawless, looked untouched. Perhaps I wasn’t as subtle as I thought I was, because Ara glanced at me from the corner of her eyes.

“He didn’t touch me,” She muttered, focusing on cooking her breakfast, “if that’s what you’re looking for. San hasn’t—he hasn’t even looked my way since yesterday. When I woke up, he was gone and the door was wide open. I don’t know what that means, but I took my chance and came here to cook myself some breakfast. I didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“Do you want my portion of stew?” I asked as Ara looked at me surprised, her eyes filling with tears.

“No, no!” She quickly shut down my offer, stirring her eggs, “It’s fine, this will do.”

“But aren’t you hungry?” I asked confused, Ara smiled at me.

“Not that much, don’t worry.” She reassured me, chuckling, “I’m used to not eating much.”

“Why?” I asked curiously as I watched her turn off the stove. She took her eggs and walked to the long table, sitting down close to the end of it. I only came here to drink a cup of tea and see if Wooyoung had already woken up, I didn’t expect to see Ara here. Didn’t expect San to let her off so easily.

“I always tried to stay fit, not gain any weight.” Ara explained and my eyebrows furrowed as I went to take the kettle, then filled it with water.

“Why would you do that?” I asked genuinely confused and Ara chuckled as she glanced back at me.

“Because I was supposed to look pleasing to the eyes. Be pretty and well-kept.” Ara explained, voice heavy with melancholy, “I worked at an Inn, which barely paid me enough to keep a roof above my head, but perhaps it was my fault too for wishing for things I couldn’t afford. I realized early on in my childhood that sometimes I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not, getting lost in a world which is only in my head. And sometimes, I would think I could project that world into my reality, screwing myself over. To be honest, if San wouldn’t have kidnapped me, I would’ve probably been evicted sooner than latter from my little cottage.”

“Is that how you try to reassure yourself that you’re in a good place?” I asked accusingly, making Ara chuckle as I placed the kettle on the lit stove.

“God, no,” Ara shook her head, taking a bite of her breakfast, “I hate this place as much as I hate San. It’s grim, dirty, and full of smelly men—and rats! I saw one a few days ago, I wished to drop dead that exact second. I don’t deserve to be here surrounded by these people, no offense to you Y/N, you’re quite lovely, actually. But I know I was made for bigger things. Created to stand on a scene. Designed to be a star one day.”

I watched Ara a little confused, her eyes focusing on nothing as she seemed far away, lost in her own thoughts, “I always wanted to become a singer for the wealthy. To be known all around the four seas and four kingdoms, but then—then San took me, and it all shattered, a future slipped right through my fingers. I’ll never be known, nor a star. I will never sing for the Queen or the aristocrats. I will rot away on this ship surrounded by lowlifes and—rats.”

Ara’s voice choked up as suddenly tears started streaming down her face and she slightly choked on her food, making my heart clench in sadness for her. I sighed and walked over, sitting down next to her and placing an arm around her shoulders. She turned into me, crying into my neck as I rubbed her back soothingly, allowing her to feel safe, to let it all out.

“Do you miss singing?” I asked in a whisper when Ara slightly calmed down. She nodded wordlessly against my neck and I smiled, patting her brown hair down, “Would you like to sing tonight? We have an important mission tomorrow and I’m sure these pirates would enjoy a little show and let loose of their nerves.”

The kettle started whistling behind us and Ara pulled away, wiping her tears off her face, “And I have a pretty dress I never wore.”

“Really?” Ara’s eyes widened, watching me intrigued as I got up and walked back to the stove, turning it off.

“It’s royal blue.” Ara’s eyes sparkled with joy, something I haven’t seen until now, her lips pulling into a wide smile.

“After dinner?” She asked and I nodded, smiling back at her. It made Ara giggle as she went back to eating her scrambled eggs, humming a happy tune to herself as if she didn’t have a small breakdown just a few seconds ago. I watched the girl for a few more second before shaking my head as I walked to the sink, grabbing a clean cup. Such a young soul with such intangible dreams.

            The chatter invaded the vast expanse of the kitchen, the pirates talking animatedly as they finished their last spoonful of yesterday’s stew, jugs filled with expensive rum and others with beer from the North, which Jongho and his father managed to snuggle on the ship on one of our missions a month ago. The room was lively as everyone enjoyed their last night before we’d go on the mainland, having docked down close to the coastline of one of the South Kingdom’s northwestern islands. We had run out of many important supplies, so tomorrow majority of the crew would go and retrieve whatever was necessary, with a side mission only few knew about, more specifically, Hongjoong’s close circle of friends. I didn’t necessarily like these missions, because they were dangerous and usually illegal, but I trusted the boys to come back unharmed, after all, they could handle themselves. Wooyoung was going on and on about how Jongho won’t let him draw his own map, as the younger from the two thinks Wooyoung’s drawing skills aren’t good enough yet, but all I could focus on was the empty seat to my right. Yunho had come down to have dinner with everyone, but instead of sitting next to me, he was sitting across the table, between Hongjoong and Mingi. That hasn’t happened before, and I could feel the questioning gazes of the others as we started eating, but I ignored them and snuggled into Wooyoung’s side, who was warm and kept me busy from thinking too much. Seonghwa was the most persistent as his eyes didn’t leave me for a good half an hour, but once he realized I wasn’t going to meet his eyes and talk about this new seating plan, he just sighed, and finally turned his attention onto Jongho, who instead of eating was drawing frantically in his little, secret, notebook. It was his diary, actually, but he never confessed that he really was keeping a diary, embarrassed when the older pirates started teasing him about it. I found it endearing, not that my opinion would’ve changed much.

Noticing that everyone by now was pretty much done eating, I abruptly stood, alerting Wooyoung as he had been complaining about Jongho, making Seonghwa jump too, as he seemed lost in his thoughts. A few pirates glanced at me before they continued their previous conversations, but Hongjoong raised a questioning brow as I grinned from ear to ear, walking away from my seat, towards the closed door. I clapped my hands three times, trying to get everyone’s attention as I smiled brightly, lightly pulling on the bottom of my burgundy shirt. Ara had insisted that if she were to be dolled up for tonight’s performance, then I should also make myself presentable. I invited her in my room shared with Yunho, and she was quick to pull my hair in intricated braids, without being too harsh. It was surprising, not many could tame a curly hair. She kept complimenting my copper curls and I was slightly embarrassed from the constant attention and praises, not used to them, having been surrounded by men for a very long time now. I’d lie if I say I didn’t enjoy my time with Ara. We giggled about everything, even talked about her previous crushes from her little town, and whispered about who she thought was the handsomest pirate on the ship. When she asked what I thought, I flushed a deep shade of pink, but skilfully dodged the subject, a knowing look appearing on Ara’s face. She insisted that I get rid of the cloth wrapped around my body and instead wear one of my corset’s, which I had never worn before but Wooyoung insisted I buy it when he saw it through the glass of the boutique. It was new, allowing my curves to show through my clothes, the bumps of my breasts foreign as I could see them and even feel them. I was scared what the pirates would think and said, but nobody threw me a second glance once they saw me at dinner, besides the quiet compliments that I had arranged my hair nicely and that the burgundy colour complimented my complexion well. It was rather comforting to see how much they didn’t care about how I presented myself, of course, Wooyoung excluded. Because he let out a shrill gasp when he saw me and pulled me up from my seat, twirling me around as I felt Yunho’s burning gaze on us. We hadn’t talked all day, it seemed like he was avoiding me. It didn’t surprise me, but I feared our friendship would never be the same again. Wooyoung kept going on and on about how beautiful I looked and that he knew that corset would look splendid on me, accentuating my beautiful form. Yeosang’s compliment also made me blush, but I turned my head in time and nobody saw it, or so I thought, because Yunho’s glare bore into the side of Yeosang’s head. I thought San would come and drag Ara away from me at any given moment, but he never showed up. Ara noticed how tense I was and just sighed, mumbling that she hadn’t seen San since the morning and something told her he was giving her some space, keeping away. It was weird. San has never done that before, to anyone. I didn’t say anything to Ara, though, just allowed her to have this moment of peace and joy as she applied something she called blush on my cheeks. Then I helped her get dressed and she clipped two strands of hair from the front to the back of her head, and then smiled at me, twirling around in my dress. It looked amazing on her, brought the colour of her skin out, matching her eyes. She truly looked majestic, and I understood now why she had high hopes of becoming famous one day. Her looks would’ve definitely helped her getting that, and if her voice was good, she truly had the whole package. Pity she had to rot away on a pirate ship, like she has said. I didn’t mind rotting away here, not as long as it was what Yunho wanted.

“May I have your attention, please?” I asked loudly, the pirates looked at me confused as I chuckled, “I know everybody is tense tonight, so, Ara and I thought we could diffuse the tension a little bit and…have some fun. Thus, I present you Im Ara, our entertainer for the night!”

The pirates seemed to grow even more confused as I opened the door and then stepped aside, allowing Ara to walk inside. She held her head high and smiled softly, waving delicately as she walked towards the stove, where she had a lot of space. Everyone watched her shocked, gaping at the beauty of her, and I just smiled as I went and took my place next to Wooyoung, grinning at him as he looked at me surprised. When I glanced towards Yunho, curious of his reaction, I was slightly taken aback by the intensity of his gaze on me, his eyes boring into mine. My smile slightly disappeared as I stared back, wishing he’d just stop being stubborn and would come and sit next to me, missing his familiar scent and warmth.

“Good evening, gentlemen, and Y/N.” Ara spoke up, voice velvety as she placed her hands in front of her. The pirates cackled at her use of words and I shook my head, showing Ara an encouraging thumbs up to continue, “I deemed it necessary to lighten your mood tonight, therefore, I shall sing to you.”

A few of the pirates grew tense, the Siren’s luring and hypnotizing song still fresh in their minds, even mine. The Siren had been a scary creature, but seeing how she didn’t really hurt anyone, even went as far as saving Jongho, I found some respect for her and set aside my judgement. I started clapping, realizing the silence was slowly becoming awkward, and Yeosang and Seonghwa quickly followed, slowly each and every pirate clapping for Ara. It seemed to encourage her as she slightly bowed her head and then cleared her throat, closing her eyes. Her mouth opened and she started singing, her soft voice carrying through the room as she started out slow and soft, the notes cradling you, comforting you almost. Ara’s voice was beautiful, just like her, and it was powerful and conveyed every emotion she felt during the song she sung. It was about a little girl lost in the world, lost in her own dreams, scared of what the real world had to offer for her. She didn’t know which path to choose, she didn’t know what was right and what was wrong. She was scared of falling, of the darkness, of the monsters hiding and waiting for her to walk into their trap. But then, just like a fairy, a kind lady, not older than her had appeared, and guided her through the ups and downs handed to her by fate, the little girl growing up into a refined and confident woman, ready to take on any hardships thrown her way. She never truly figured if the helping lady was real or a fairy, or just a fragment of her imagination, but she remained forever grateful as she lived long enough to tell her grandchildren all about it.

When Ara was done singing, she opened her eyes, and after a second of silence, the table erupted in loud claps, a few pirates even standing up and shouting encouraging words at her. Ara suddenly flushed and turned around, patting her chest down, and when she turned back around, her eyes were rimmed with tears. When was the last time she had sung? When she had an audience? My heart broke for her as I clapped, smiling proudly when we made eye contact.

As the table started quieting down, one already drunken pirate spoke up, “Do you know any sailor songs?”

“Name any!” Ara said excitedly and the table erupted into cheers again, the pirates slamming their fists against the table in excitement. I started laughing, never having seen the crew quite like this, never so carefree and happy.

“The coiled fishnet!”

“Blackbeard’s treasure!”

“The Serpent and The Pearl!”

“Deep under!”

“Cator’s last sail!”

“Lost on Sea!”

“Kings never die!”

“Remember me when I sink down under!”

Various sailor songs were screamed at Ara and she held a hand over her mouth, seemingly overwhelmed for a second, before she clapped her hands, and grinned mischievously, “That is a lot you want to hear, but the night is still young, isn’t it? I shall then start with The coiled fishnet!” Everyone started cheering loudly and Ara laughed before clearing her throat and starting to sing the quite sad song, the pirates humming along.

And just like Ara has said, the night was young, but when you were having a good time, it flew past you, making it seem like it was mere minutes. As the night progressed, the pirates got drunker and drunker, to the point that the kitchen was filled with loud singing as they had joined Ara, slurring their words and over shouting Ara’s majestic voice. I had been asked to dance by Wooyoung when one of the happier songs was being sung and I couldn’t refuse him, so we went and danced. Ara seemed to sparkle in the dim lights of the kitchen, radiating happiness as she clapped as Wooyoung and I danced around her. It only encouraged the other pirates to dance along and soon, I found myself in a big circle, getting twirled around and singing along with Ara. Even she was asked to dance during one of the more pacific songs, and she accepted gladly, blushing a little when Mingi held eye contact with her. She said that after Seonghwa, Mingi was the handsomest on the ship. Hongjoong had gone to sleep half an hour ago, whispering something to Yunho, and then excusing himself, saying that he needed to be well rested for the mission tomorrow. Yeosang followed soon after, but the others remained. Jongho was talking loudly and animatedly to a circle of five men from the crew, telling them everything he knew about sirens. It had been a touchy subject after his siren got away, but lately he seemed to be happier, especially when we were sailing through the Raging Sea. I didn’t think he’d see the Siren ever again, but perhaps I was wrong. Wooyoung was constantly dancing and singing, more like shouting, as he had started stealing Jongho’s own drink up until they younger’s father caught him, and tried to stop Wooyoung from getting wasted, to no avail. It felt good seeing my friends so free of worry finally.

Yunho never joined in on the singing nor the dancing, he just sat at the table, and watched everyone carefully, his eyes rarely on someone else other than me. It felt uncomfortable at the beginning, but I knew he just didn’t know how to approach me, so I let it slide. If he didn’t want to have fun, I wouldn’t try and haggle him like Mingi had been doing until he got almost punched. San was nowhere to be seen, until I spotted him in the doorway, hiding away in the shadows, eyes fixed on Ara, and only on her. His stoic expression was slowly slipping as Ara sung about a love so strong it would transpire into the lovers next lifetime, the two bound to always find each other. His hands were balled into fists and he gulped hard, and his eyes slightly closed, drinking in Ara’s soothing voice. Two lovers bound to face challenges in their next life, some so severe even the universe thought their bond would be broken, but it never did. Because unknowingly, fate had strung them together a long time ago, sealing their love as a testament against anything evil trying to break them apart. I watched as San crumbled for a second, it almost looked like a tear slipped down his cheek, before he made eye contact with me, and stormed off, my heart clenching for him. Despite the evil deeds he did, I knew he was only human. But not all sins could be forgiven, no matter how human one was.

I tapped Wooyoung’s arm as I pulled away and stepped out of the circle, him following closely behind. His cheeks were flushed and he was constantly giggling, the alcohol having clearly gotten to his head, “I think I’m going to sleep, Woo.”

His pout was almost adorable, “So soon?”

“It’s quite late, actually.” I answered with a chuckle as suddenly Wooyoung engulfed me in a big hug, his head resting against my neck. His chest fell and rose quickly from dancing around, a sheer layer of sweat coating his forehead.

“But we’re having so much fun!” He whined, and I shook my head as I petted his hair.

“I know, but Ara will perform for us again, and we’ll have even more fun.” Drunk Wooyoung was like a child, he needed to be coerced into doing things, softly spoken to, and a lot of patience. I felt eyes on us, but I didn’t turn around, assuming that it was most probably Yunho watching us.

“Will she, really?” Wooyoung asked dazed and pulled his head back, looking at me with a drunken grin.

“Of course, she will, Wooyoung.” I said with a chuckle, “I don’t think she has anything better to do and it actually makes her happy.”

“Like cooking makes me happy—” He hiccupped and I rolled my eyes, “and, well, stealing from the royal court.”

“You’re so reckless.” I shook my head at him and carefully pulled myself out of his tight hold, knowing his clinginess got worse when drunk. Wooyoung pouted and his eyes were halfway closed, suddenly the tenacious Sailing master disappearing as all I could see was the little prince who stumbled on our ship so many years ago. His skin polished, clothes posh, well-mannered and words carefully pronounced, accent absent. He was so different from us, yet he stayed. Something about the crew attracted him to the life of a pirate and he stuck with us, his Prince title long forgotten, his once King supposed duties long left in the past.

“I’m just a pirate.” Wooyoung lowered his voice and mockingly saluted, making me shake my head at him. He just chuckled and then hiccupped, swaying on his legs, the rocking off the ship slightly making it worse.

“Let’s get you to bed—” I started saying, gripping his arm, but Wooyoung groaned loudly, pushing me away with a frown.

“No!” He whined, glaring at me, “I’ll stay and celebrate for more, you go to sleep, Y/N. Jongho’s room is closest to mine, when he goes to sleep, I’ll go with him.”

“Pinky promise?” I extended my pinkie to him, and Wooyoung giggled.

“Pinky promise.” He nodded his head and hooked his pinkie with mine, sealing it with our thumbs. He waved goodbye as I bid him goodnight and started towards the kitchen door, eyes falling on Jongho, who didn’t seem too tired or drunk enough yet, holding a pirate by the collar as his eyes shone in excitement, talking loudly and explaining something to the poor pirates, who looked slightly frightened by Jongho’s passion. He was a stoic man, rarely showing any emotions, but I guess the liquor loosened up him enough to let his secret obsessive side shine through. Jongho was a precious person, I have always been fond of him, but perhaps that was also because he was the youngest amongst our close circle, and just a little boy when him and his father joined our crew.

I left the kitchen and walked down the dark hallways, knowing them like the back of my palm, in a cheery mood as the night had gone better than Ara and I had expected it. It was good for the pirates, but it was also good for Ara. They would warm up to her easier now, something so small as songs bringing us together. Ara was talented, I couldn’t help but pity her for her ruined dreams. She did deserve more, and perhaps, one day, San would let her go. Perhaps.

I pushed open the door of my room and walked inside, the moonlight casting the room in a soft glow, not strong but just enough to see the outline of things. It’s not like I needed light, I’ve been living in this small quarter for ten years now with Yunho. I stepped inside, letting the door shut behind me on its own, but I was barely two steps in, when the door was roughly pushed open, slamming against the wall. I jumped and whirled around tense, ready to fight if anyone was here to provoke me, but instead I was met with Yunho’s tall frame standing in the doorframe. My eyebrows furrowed and suddenly, he sprung forward, the door closing behind him forcefully, closing the distance between us until his lips were pressing against mine. Yunho’s lips. Pressing against mine. My mind reeled as my eyes widened so much, I thought they’d pop out of their sockets, Yunho’s soft lips pressing painfully against mine. When I didn’t respond, he pulled back just slightly, lips brushing against mine, eyes boring into mine. His breathing was uneven as I tried to understand the situation, guess his thoughts, but his eyes gave away nothing. I didn’t understand, I just couldn’t. It was so sudden. Out of nowhere. After yesterday’s outburst, it was unexpected. I was taken-aback, but slowly, I found myself wanting to feel the press of his lips against mine. I wanted to taste him. To feel him against my body. It was Yunho, my best friend, the man I loved. I was ready to give him everything he wanted. Words wouldn’t leave my lips, all that left them, was a whine and Yunho was suddenly pressing his lips against mine again, grabbing my cheeks painfully, squeezing the air out of me. I couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss just as fiercely, standing up on my tiptoes so that he didn’t have to lean down so much, clinging onto him as I grabbed the collar of his shirt. Our lips started moving in sink, hungrily devouring the other, tasting them, curious of the other. They seemed to fit perfectly against each other as Yunho tasted of the rum he’s been consuming throughout the night, and despite being sober, suddenly, I felt like I was intoxicated myself. His hands slowly released my cheeks and I felt them on my arms as they slowly dragged down my body, hold tightening when his calloused hands and long fingers made contact with my corset. I shivered slightly at the firm grip, goosebumps erupting on my skin as he dragged his hands lower, following the curve of the fabric, of my body, as a sound left the back of his throat, pressed into my mouth, making my breath hitch. Yunho grabbed my waist and before I could react much, I was hoisted up, legs wrapping around his hips instinctually, as did my arms around his neck. Our noses pressed into each other’s cheek and I breathed in deeply, his scent so familiar that it sent chills down my spine. I couldn’t help but moan when he bit my lower lip, a sound I repressed so many times when he lazily kissed all over my body in the mornings, trying to hide the flush and the want trying to show on my face. Yunho hugged me close to his body as he walked to our bed, sitting down on it, letting me straddle his lap as I quickly pressed my lips against his again, opening my mouth up for him, desperate to feel more of him. His sweet tongue pressed against mine, and I felt like I could reach the stars any moment, as I moaned, licking at his, letting him do the same as his grip became bruising on my hips as he allowed his hands to wander underneath my shirt and corset, cold hands pressing against my heated skin. My breath stuttered for a second and Yunho must’ve felt it as he pulled back, his chest falling and rising quickly, just as breathless as I was.

I pecked his lips again, my body burning with a yearning I’ve never felt before in my life, the familiar glint back in his eyes. It felt like I was staring at the stars on a clear night, no clouds in sight. His gaze was so warm, filled with adoration and lust, as he dove down and pressed his open mouth against my neck, licking at the skin, my body reacting instantly as my hips slightly moved, shivers traveling down my spine. Yunho groaned against my skin, the vibration travelling through me, and I couldn’t help but move my hips against him again, as he pulled our bodies close by the strong grip he had on my hips. I was feeling so many new sensations at the same time, mind foggy and clouded with thoughts of Yunho. The familiarity of his scent and his warmth and his body. It felt like I’ve known him like this my whole life. My fingers tangled into the grown hair on his nape as he suddenly sucked down on the skin around my collarbones, making me grind against him slowly, biting down on my lower lip to stop a moan from escaping. Yunho licked at the abused skin and raised his head, looking me in the eyes before crashing his lips against mine again. I was hungry, wanting more and more as Yunho guided my hips against his growing member, moaning into the kiss when I gyrated my hips, long fingers bruising the skin of my hips. Our teeth clanked against each other, the sweet taste of Yunho mixed with the rum he’s been drinking all night and it was hard, too difficult, to pull away and steel my hips, when all I wanted to do was undress him and let him take me, give all of myself to him.

“Yunho,” I whispered, kissing his cheek instead when he tried to kiss me again, “You’re drunk.”

“I want you.” His voice was gravely as he whined against my cheek, “So badly, Y/N, please, I love you.”

My heart stuttered and I bit my lower lip, kissing his forehead, “I love you too, and I want you too, but not—not like this.”

Yunho sucked in a harsh breath, “I’m lucid enough to tell you that I want this.”

“Not tonight, please.” I mumbled against his skin, wanting him to be sober, not an ounce of alcohol influencing his wants and thoughts.

“I love you so much.” Yunho whispered and pressed his lips against mine, but didn’t deepen the kiss.

“And I love you just as much back.” I said with a smile and Yunho chuckled, his firm grip gone from my hips as he took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. His cheeks were flushed and I knew mine were too. My heart finally felt complete, the usual void nowhere to be found as Yunho helped me off himself, smiling and giggling as he ripped his shirt open and threw it onto the floor. Before I could stop him, he got rid of his pants too and climbed into bed, pouting and motioning for me to follow him. I chuckled and shook my head, collecting his clothes and placing them on the chair. I untied my corset and took off my pants too, but left on the shirt, as I climbed in next to Yunho. He pulled me against his body instantly, nuzzling his head against my hair and inhaling deeply as I lay on top of him, placing a hand against his cheek. Sleep stole us away way too quick tonight.

            I woke with a start, the bedsheets cold beside me, Yunho’s body missing. I shot up, instantly regretting it as my head spun, still foggy with sleep, as I rubbed my eyes and squinted. The sunshine was harsh as it shone inside through the little window and I noticed Yunho’s clothes were gone from the chair and a little piece of paper sat on top of our desk. I threw the covers off and got out of bed, walking up to the desk and grabbing the paper, reading Yunho’s neat handwritten note.

‘We had to leave at dawn, sorry I wasn’t with you when you woke up. Today’s mission is long and I don’t think I can go on without saying this, so Y/N, everything that I said and did last night, I meant it. When I return tonight, we shall talk about it.’

My heart skipped a few beats as I read the letter again, lips pulling into a small smile, cheeks flushing. The alcohol then didn’t give or take to Yunho’s actions last night, he wanted that. My heart swelled at the thought and I giggled as I shook my head, placing the paper back on the desk as I went to dress myself. I felt like abandoning the tight fabric for my torso today, and instead, grabbed the corset Wooyoung had gifted me and picked out one of my clean white shirts.

The sun was high up in the sky by the time I walked up on the deck, grabbing my binoculars in the process, taking in the few pirates standing on watch, making sure nobody tried to sneak up on our ship while we were decked down so close to the shore. Seonghwa stood on the quarterdeck, shoulders pulled back and one hand on his hip as the other held the binocular up to his eyes, looking towards land. When Hongjoong, our Captain, lead the mission, Seonghwa, his Quartermaster, stayed back to watch the ship. When Seonghwa led a mission, Hongjoong stayed with his crew. Despite my steps being light and quiet, Seonghwa heard me and turned with a smile, greeting me quietly. His long hair was pulled in a half up ponytail, sun beaming down on his tan complexion. His lips were shiny, and I just had a feeling that it was probably a gift from Bora, a sort of cream, which would hydrate his chapped lips. I chuckled at the thought as I stood next to him, looking towards the mainland, able to make out the people walking on the beach and coastline.

“Good morning.” I greeted cheerily, and Seonghwa chuckled, throwing me a questioning glance.

“Slept well?” He asked and I hummed, not saying anything more as Yeosang had walked on deck and waved our way. I waved back and Seonghwa nodded, watching as Yeosang went and climbed up on one of the shrouds. Seonghwa touched his compass, and I watched as he gripped it tightly before letting go of it, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. He had been a wreck for the six months it was missing. We hadn’t stopped until he finally found the person who had stolen it, and I couldn’t have been happier seeing Seonghwa finally regain himself. I could understand him. That compass was the only thing which reminded him that he did have a blood related family, even if they didn’t want him.

“How’s Bora doing?” I asked casually and watched as Seonghwa’s cheek caught a slight tint of pink. He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“She was doing just fine last time we met.” He answered and I smiled at him, leaning closer.

“So, I suppose you forgave her?” My tone was light, teasing. Of course, he forgave her, I knew that. But it was always entertaining seeing Seonghwa blush. He rolled his eyes, and turned to face me.

“She proved herself to be useful, so, I decided to let it slide this time.” Seonghwa answered, and I hummed, a knowing smile appearing on my lips. Nobody who touched Seonghwa’s compass lived another day, yet this girl stole it from him and kept it for six months, and still walked away unscathed. If she wasn’t special, she’d be long dead. Seonghwa could try and play it off as nothing, but I knew it ran deeper than that. It was obvious how fond he was of her.

“Did she find any leads, then?” I asked, genuinely curious, as Seonghwa hummed.

“She found a merchant who seemed to know of a Bu family whose son disappeared twenty-five years ago.” There was a flicker of hope in Seonghwa’s voice, but it was quickly gone as he continued, “It could be anyone, however, I don’t have high hopes. I’ve been searching since I was a little boy for Bu Seolhwa and never found her…”

I felt sadness wash over me as Seonghwa’s shoulders slightly slouched, “Maybe you just didn’t have the right connections, Seonghwa, maybe Bora is close this time. Do you trust her?”

“With my life,” His voice was barely a whisper as a look of yearning crossed his face, “This Bu family seems to be from the Sun Rise Kingdom.”

“Where Hongjoong’s father found you.” I said with an encouraging smile and Seonghwa nodded, looking at me with a small smile.

“I’ll be visiting Bora and Nari next week; I’ll find out more then.”

“Good,” I hummed, my eyes widening as I remembered the delicate pearl necklace I placed aside for Bora’s sister, “Hey, I just remembered. Yunho brought back a pearl necklace a few weeks ago from one of his missions and I wanted to give it to Nari as I don’t need it…Jongho’s gifted me too many pearls by now.”

Seonghwa chuckled and looked down at his own pearl necklace from Jongho, “I’ll give it to her, she’ll be really happy.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and then allowed the comfortable silence to settle between us, as both Seonghwa and I raised our binoculars to look towards the mainland, survey the waters. Just as I was about to lower it, I noticed a boat headed our way. My eyebrows furrowed as I lowered my binocular and walked down from the quarterdeck and headed to the railing of the deck. Yeosang was climbed up high by now, the wind ruffling his fluffy hair. I raised my binocular again, about to shout at the pirates to load their guns, but it was Wooyoung. He was rowing towards our ship frantically, a body laying by his feet. My eyebrows furrowed and heartbeat slightly picked up, wondering who that was. If they were coming back, it meant that it was serious.

“Seonghwa!” I called back, turning to look up at him, “Are you seeing this?”

“Yes!” Seonghwa called down as he took off from his position, and approached me quickly. The boat has almost reached us. Seonghwa looked into his binoculars again and sucked in a sharp breath, but before I could look too, he gripped my arm and turned to me, face gravely, “Lower the ladder, now.”

Yeosang and I had designed a wooden ladder, without stairs, which we threw over the side of the ship to make it easier to travel up and down from it. It was optimal when we decked down in a port or close to the beach, where we didn’t need to us a boat to get closer to the shore. The water wasn’t too deep here, but the wooden ladder couldn’t be usable, so I threw Seonghwa a confused glance until I saw the seriousness on his face.

“Seonghwa!” I could hear Wooyoung shouting over the sounds of the waves crashing and wind blowing as his boat was closer, “I need help!”

Yeosang noticed that I was struggling with lifting the wooden ladder, so he came over and helped me, throwing it overboard as it slammed against the water loudly.

“I need Yeosang!” I could hear Wooyoung still shouting, “Yunho’s been injured, he can’t stand—he’s not responding!”

My world seemed to pause for a few seconds as I watched Seonghwa run past me and jump over the railing, sliding down the wooden ladder to get to Wooyoung and Yunho. Yunho. He was injured. He wasn’t responding—as if I had just resurfaced from underneath cold water, my body flinched and tensed up, and I was running to the wooden ladder, Yeosang’s firm grip pulling me away from the railing as he stared softly into my eyes.

“Let Wooyoung and Seonghwa take him up, Y/N, you can’t help.”

“I have to!” I screamed, trying to fight away Yeosang’s grip, but he wasn’t budging, “Yeosang, please!”

He sighed, but shook his head as I heard Seonghwa and Wooyoung struggling just a few feet away from us, “You know you can’t help them.”

He was right, I really couldn’t. The ladder couldn’t hold four people at once, it was me who designed it, I was supposed to know. But Yunho was there, injured. I couldn’t just stand and do nothing—my eyes snapped to the railing as Seonghwa’s head showed.

“Yeosang, come help.” He instructed and Yeosang was gone in a flash, leaning over the railing and pulling over Yunho’s limp body, my feet rooted in one place. I stared wide eyed at Yunho’s unconscious body, lips parted and hair sticking to his forehead. His white shirt had turned red at the front, cut across his chest, a wide gash gapping at anyone who looked at it. My hands pressed against my mouth as I felt my eyes fill with tears, Yeosang kneeled next to Yunho, two fingers pressed against his artery, checking for a pulse. He cursed, Yeosang never does that. Wooyoung hopped over the railing, hands and vest bloody, as his panicked eyes fell on me and he sucked in a harsh breath, instantly approaching me.

“Seonghwa, we need to take him to his room, right now.” Yeosang’s deep voice was frantic and Seonghwa was by his side, grabbing Yunho’s shoulders as Yeosang lifted him by the legs, and they started walking away, headed towards our room. I didn’t realize I was trembling until Wooyoung pulled me into a tight hug, something wet hitting my neck, snapping me out of my frozen state. My heart was hammering against my chest, and despite not meaning to be so harsh, I pushed Wooyoung off of me, staring at him with wide eyes as he started crying.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I was supposed to be on look out and kill anyone who approached the warehouse—I didn’t know they had sneaked in through the back until I heard Yunho screaming—” No. I couldn’t listen to that right now. No, not when the love of my life was possibly dying in our bed. I didn’t think or wait for Wooyoung as I took off, running past the pirates who tried to stop me and hold me back, shouting after me that I needed to let Yeosang work in peace and silence, but I couldn’t hear them. I had to get to Yunho. So, I raced down the stairs and crashed into the wall painfully, but I didn’t care as I ran down the long hallway, heart beating frantically as I arrived to our shared room, just as Seonghwa closed the door in my face.

“No! Let me in!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and tried to open the door, but the knob wouldn’t turn. They had locked the door. Locked me outside, with Yunho inside, separated us at such a crucial time. What if he didn’t get to live? What if he wanted to see me? What if I never got to see the glint in his eyes again? The smile on his face? What if I never got to feel his warm body against mine, his warmth engulfing my whole being? I started sobbing loudly and banging my fists against the door, screaming at Seonghwa and Yeosang to let me inside, to let me see Yunho. Before I could start kicking too, arms wrapped tightly around me from behind, and I was hauled back.

“No! Stop!” I screamed, trying to free myself, but the person was strong, “Yunho!”

My voice broke at the scream of his name and suddenly, I was turned around and my head was pressed against Wooyoung’s chest as he shushed me, petting my head, hugging me tightly against himself.

“You need to let them work in silence, Y/N.” He whispered against my ear, “Yeosang has to concentrate. You know he can save him; he’s saved so many others so many times, but he needs the quiet, Y/N.”

“I have to be in there, next to him—”

“You’d just distract them, Y/N,” Wooyoung cut my words off, “Please, have faith in him and Yunho. He’s strong, he’s a fighter.”

“I know.” I mumbled with a sob as I allowed my body to go numb in Wooyoung’s hold, tears streaming down my face without stopping. I couldn’t let my thoughts swallow me whole as horrible scenarios of Yunho’s death kept coming to the front of my mind, taunting me, making me cry harder. I couldn’t lose my best friend. I couldn’t lose the love of my life. Not yet. Not when we had finally given in to each other. Wooyoung’s grip tightened as he lowered us to the ground, pulling me into his lap and petting my hair, humming a tune only he seemed to know, his body warmth so comforting right now. I would’ve crumbled without him being here, without someone anchoring me. Yunho was my everything. Without him, life wasn’t worth living anymore.

Sometime ago Seonghwa had left the room, but with a sharp look, I knew I wasn’t allowed inside yet. He said nothing, just shook his head at Wooyoung, and walked off to clean himself up. I had stopped crying, only to start again when Yunho’s painful screams ricocheted off the walls, traveling through the wooden door separating the two of us. I was so close to him, yet not allowed to offer him any support from up close. I hated it. I wanted to barge in and just hold him, cradle his head to my chest while Yeosang fixed him up. But if he was screaming, he was still breathing, and as painful as it was, I couldn’t help but let out a breath each time I heard it, thanking the Gods that he was still among us, still feeling, still living. I had moved out of Wooyoung’s lap as I sat against the wall, head fallen back against it, hand holding Wooyoung’s as he rubbed my knuckles in a calming manner, my nerves slightly loosening before my muscles tensed back up. I felt bad for him, but nothing could truly comfort me right now. I only needed Yunho. To know that he was safe, far away from death’s grasp. It felt like hours had passed as I sat in the hallway, the chatter of the pirates on deck traveling all the way down here, Yunho’s occasional screams interrupting the peace, and Wooyoung’s humming when I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, body trembling in fear and empathy for Yunho. And then finally, somehow, that cursed wooden door opened just slightly for Yeosang to step through. I didn’t think I had enough power in me, but I sprung up to my feet, ready to bounce inside, but Yeosang’s dishevelled appearance made me pause, eyes taking in his bloody clothes and hands. Even his cheeks were smudged with blood, and suddenly, I felt nauseous. What if Yunho didn’t make it? What if all that blood…was because Yeosang couldn’t save him?

“I stitched him up, the wound was very deep.” Yeosang’s deep voice was tired as he sighed loudly, “He fell unconscious, but he’s still breathing. And his pulse had gotten a lot more stable, I’m confident he’s out of harms way, he will survive, Y/N, he’s as fine as he can be.”

A weight was taken off my shoulders as my body shuddered and I bit my lower lip to stop myself from sobbing again. Yeosang stepped aside and lightly pushed the door open to me, “You can go see him, I’m done.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.” I didn’t care of the blood as I hugged the doctor tightly, conveying my emotions into that one hug, so grateful for him. Yeosang mumbled a simple ‘I would’ve never let him die’, before I released him and entered the room, instantly hit by the iron smell of Yunho’s blood. It was strong, but I noticed the small window was opened to allow fresh air inside. My steps faltered for a second as I noticed all the bloody rags on the floor next to our bed, and I gulped, eyes slowly falling on Yunho. He was sprawled out on our bed, sheets bloody too, and torso naked as his chest fell and rose rhythmically, lips slightly parted. There was a wide gash going from his left shoulder down to his ribs on his right side of the torso, skin red and raw, stitches carefully and neatly done. Yunho’s eyebrows were furrowed, but his face seemed relaxed as his fingers kept flexing and then unflexing. I approached him carefully, scared that I would wake him up, as I kneeled down next to our bed, eyes piercing his face. I counted the seconds as he breathed, reassuring myself that he was alright. I wiped the tears off my cheeks as they started falling again, but I couldn’t help it, not when the love of my life was so close to death. So close to being taken away from me. I hated these bloody missions he had to go on.

“I know you’re here.” Yunho croaked out and my heartbeat stuttered as he reached his long fingers out towards me, the ring with the letter A glinting on his forefinger. I bit my lower lip and quickly intertwined our fingers, the warmth of his hand another reminder that Yunho was alive. Breathing. Blood flowing through his veins.

“Yunho—” My voice broke as I started crying again, trying to not sob as a serene smile appeared on his lips, “Yunho, I was so scared.”

“I know, baby, I was too.” He whispered, lazily opening one eye before the other. He looked tired, eyelids threatening to drop any minute. I squeezed our hands tighter together, our similar rings digging into each other’s skins.

“You can never again do this to me, do you understand?” I demanded, eyebrows furrowing as Yunho nodded slowly, eyes boring into mine with adoration and sorry.

“I promise I won’t, Y/N.” I sniffed, wiping my tears off with my other hand.

“Good.” I whispered and raised his hand, pressing my lips against his palm. Yunho hummed deeply and smiled, closing his eyes, looking like he was in haven. He was quite close to getting there, actually.

“I love you.” Yunho whispered suddenly, “More than a friend, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, the only woman in my life. I don’t need anyone else, just you. You make me happy and feel like the luckiest man in the four seas and four kingdoms, Y/N, I love you so much.”

I bit my lower lip as a wide smile stretched on my lips, my cheeks flushing, my heart swelling. Could you truly love someone else this much? I found myself nodding at my own question, “I love you too so much, Yunho, I cannot imagine my life without you by my side. Please stay with me forever.”

“I will.” Yunho opened his eyes and looked deeply into mine, glint back in his gaze. It took me a second to realize what that was. It was love. Passionate and irrevocable. Burning me up and making me yearn for more and more as I leaned over the bed, towards Yunho’s face, and pressed my lips daintily against his. Yunho kissed me back and we both smiled into the kiss as the door opened, a deep chuckle echoing behind me.

“A few more kisses might just heal him faster, Y/N.” Yeosang said teasingly as he came back to gather the bloody rags, staring down at us happily as I pulled away from Yunho, flustered that someone caught us kissing.

“They might just.” I heard Yunho mutter to himself as he allowed his body to relax, eyelids fluttering shut, growing heavy against the sheets which smelled like us. I held Yunho’s hand as I continued kneeling on the floor, watching him sleep and thank the Gods for letting him see the sunset and sunrise once again.

I never knew you could love someone so ardently, that it ate you up, burned your whole being. I never dared imagine what it felt like when the person you love loved you back just as passionately, their whole world revolving only around you. But I knew now that it all would be fine. That nothing could break us apart, having sealed our bond for a lifetime. And staring at Yunho, I knew that I had found my soulmate, the only person in the whole world who understood me and would never abandon me.

Sneaking on this ship with him ten years ago was the smartest decision I have ever taken.

Next part (divider)

[topgun-imagines]

You’re Not Alone

Requested: yes

Summary: After Ice makes a comment that, unbeknownst to him, hurts you, he needs to make sure that you know just how sorry he is. 

Word count: 1.3k 

Warnings: Sexism. Crying. Arguing. Mentions of drinking. 

Pairings: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

“The plaque for the alternates is down in the lady's room.” It was Ice’s quip that made you stop. You knew that it was addressed at Maverick but it still hurt all the same. Goose laughed loudly. You could feel the eyes on you as you sucked in a sharp breath and headed out of the classroom.

You had known Ice for years. The two of you first met at the academy, becoming instant friends with both him and Slider. He had even been the one to give you your call sign; Snow White because of your jet-black hair. It was also fitting for the way you were similar to Ice in your frostiness. Eventually, the pair of you got together. In a few weeks, it would be your fifth anniversary.

His comment shouldn't have affected you like it did. You knew that it was aimed at Maverick but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Iceman was the person that knew more than anyone how hard you had to work to get where you were. It was safe to say that female pilots were a rarity in the Navy. The men around you were constantly looking down on you, belittling you just because you were a woman. You knew that Ice wasn’t one of those people. Both him and Slider were constantly telling you how much you deserved to be where you were today, no matter how often you told them they didn’t need to. To hear Ice say that made you rethink the things that he had told you over the past six years. Maybe that’s what he actually thought. That you were below him and the other pilots, just because you were a woman.

You headed into the changing rooms before anyone else got there. Grabbing your civilian clothes, you headed into one of the bathroom stalls and began changing out of your uniform. You could hear some of the others make their way into the room, laughing loudly. The second you were finished you folded your uniform carefully and unlocked the stall.

Ice, Slider, Hollywood, Wolfman, Maverick, and Goose were all standing in front of their lockers. They were all discussing plans to go to the bar tonight. Your locker was next to Ice’s. Silently, you placed your uniform in the small locker. Popping a piece of gum in your mouth, you ignored Ice when he tried to talk to you. Honestly, you weren’t in the mood to deal with him right now. Slamming your locker, you left the room, leaving everyone staring after you confused.

The bar was packed. People were mingling loudly, chatting and laughing as they sipped on their drinks. You leaned against the bar, waiting for your drink to come. Many of your classmates surrounded you. Hollywood and Wolfman were sitting beside you, lost in their own little world. A soft hand landed on your shoulder. After six years you didn’t need to think too hard about who it was.

Ice wound his arm around your waist. You turned away slightly when he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. His eyebrows furrowed. What was with you today? “You okay?” He questioned, downing the shot that was placed in front of him. You rolled your eyes. God, this man could be oblivious sometimes. When you didn’t respond Ice craned his neck to meet your eyes. “Snow? What’s wrong?” Regardless of the concern dripping from his words, you didn’t want anything to do with him right now.

“I can’t do this right now, Ice,” Sighing, you set your now empty glass on the bar top and moved toward the exit. You could hear Ice groan behind you. Not caring, you continued towards the exit and stepped out of the bar. The fresh air was glorious. You sucked in a deep breath, shutting your eyes for a minute. The door shut behind you. “Please, Tom.” With a sigh, you turned to face him.

His eyes were on you, watching with concern as he moved toward you. “What’s going on?” When all you offered in response was a mumbled ‘nothing’ Ice scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re barely even looking at me.” Your eyes were focused on the gravel in front of his shoes. He watched you carefully as you chose your words.

You sighed and brought your eyes up to meet his. “Why would you say that?” Ice’s brow furrowed in confusion. What the hell were you talking about?  “Why would you joke about being a woman pilot?” His mind instantly flashed to the comment he had made earlier that day. Of course. How could he have been so stupid? The pilot's heart dropped when he saw the way you tried to blink away the tears that gathered on your lashes.

He wished that he could run to you and wipe your tears away; hold you until he knew you were okay. But, he knew that that was probably the last thing you wanted right now. He had to choose his words very carefully. “I wasn’t thinking,” You scoffed. “And I know that that is no excuse for what I said but I promise you, I would never make fun of you, or mock you. Ever,” Ice took a cautious step towards you. “I know how hard you had to work to get where you are and that is nothing to joke about,” He was now standing only a foot away from you. “I am so, so sorry, baby.” When you sniffled quietly Ice thought the worst: he was about to lose you after nearly five years.

Before he could even comprehend what was happening, your arms had wound their way around his waist with your face buried in his chest. He stumbled back slightly from the force of your hug. You were crying softly into his chest. His lips settled on the crown of your head. “I’m so sorry,” The words were mumbled into your hair but you could hear them nonetheless. You shook your head, face still nuzzled in Ice’s chest.

“Thank you,” You whispered, pulling your head back to look at him. Tom had tears of his own gathering on his bottom lash. Biting his lip, he tried to blink them away. He didn’t think you should be thanking him for anything.  “Thank you for believing in me,” There was a small smile resting on your lips, Tom’s eventually mimicking your own. “I love you, Tom.” You rested your head against his shoulder, arms still wrapped tightly around his waist.

His hand began rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I love you too, baby. You’re never gonna be alone as long as I'm here,” He had no idea how much it meant to hear him say that. The pair of you stood in silence, simply enjoying each other presence. Tom had made it clear that he understood his mistake, and he would be damned if he ever made it again. You knew how much he regretted what he said. You were glad to know that no matter what happened, you would always have Ice in your corner. As if he could hear your thoughts, Ice leaned down slightly and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple. “You deserve so much baby. I hope one day I can give that to you.” Your heart melted at his words.

With a giddy smile, you moved to hide your face in Ice’s neck, eyes catching on the wet tear stain you left on his sunny whites. “Oops.” You giggled quietly. Tom’s found where you were looking, causing him to let out a soft chuckle as well. When you moved to apologize Ice cut you off with a soft shake of his head. The shirt could be washed. What Ice really cared about was the fact that you were okay and that you knew just how much he loved you. And he didn’t intend to stop telling you for a very long time.

a/n: Thank you for reading! requests are open.