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motherofagony · 10 months

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FIRE WALK - one shot

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: au, no outbreak!joel x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni word count: 6.5k summary: a chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), very brief references to past non-con encounters (not with joel, no details just shitty men in general), soft!joel, alcohol, mentions of family trauma and ab*se, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f + m receiving), A Scene With a Belt™, slight mentions of reader's clothing but no physical descriptions otherwise, love as consumption and women as fruit a/n: this was a brain-worm of a one shot, so i had to press pause on AHFE and get it out. consider it a dirty love letter to strangers with stories in shitty motels. and i have to give the biggest thank-you to @iamskyereads for stepping in and offering to be my beta reader in the final hour. she was so unbelievably thorough and thoughtful and kind. i owe you big.

New-age boogeymen hang two-way mirrors and jiggle motel door handles with broken hangers.

That’s what the news says.

August licks an unforgiving line of heat up your back, and cutoff denim and halter tops do nothing but give the sun more skin to burn.

It’s sweltering, brutal as an Arizona summer is, and The Palms Motel promises a pool and a mini bar on their dirty marquee. You’ll take what you can get, can’t really afford to be picky with fifty dollars in your pocket, but at least maybe you’ll live like royalty tonight.

Some guy you met — Tom, Tim, Jim, whoever — pulls his convertible up to the front office. Your knees knock together over the speed bump, cartilage kissing bone.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come close to a chauffeur, but the chauffeur you see in movies doesn’t usually take liberties with trying to work his grease-speckled mechanic hand up the passenger’s shirt.

You met him at a gas station in Tucson, thumbing your way from northern Texas to put as much distance between you and your whiskey-breathed dad as you could. He’d torn your clothes apart at the seams with his eyes when he spotted you in the parking lot, swimming in blood-infested waters with sharp, sharp teeth.

There was no plan, no directions penned and cities circled on a folded map, just glass in your hair and a final straw.

He asked if you could buy him some booze — revoked license, baby, y’know how that goes — and you shouldn’t have, but when he flashed a leather wallet thick with cash, you knew you’d be stupid not to.

You hid behind a shelf inside the gas station while he idled in the parking lot and plucked a fifty from the wad, stuffing it deep in your bag. You grabbed some shitty malt-something from a fridge along with a 6-pack, flashing the slack-jawed cashier a wink.

He didn’t try to hide the eye contact with your tits, but neither do most men. Sometimes you milk it in your favor, sometimes it just makes your lunch rise to the back of your throat.

And when you’re by yourself, it’s hot iron, ready to strike. A doe in their headlights, a buck with a nice rack. Skipping through the center of their bullseye.

You bought a little palm-sized bottle for yourself and tucked it safely next to the stolen cash in the abyss of your purse. These tiny cons got you by, made power surge deep in your belly. It made loneliness feel worth it, knowing you had an upper hand to lean on if you were ever in a bind.

He bitched about inflation when you came out with less than was reasonable for the amount you spent, and you just shrugged. Not your cash, not your problem.

You bartered for a ride to the nearest motel, and now Tom-Tim-Jim is asking you over the purr of the engine if you need company for the night.

If you were feeling a little more you, you might’ve taken him up on it. Maybe he would’ve even paid for the room, maybe he wouldn’t get angry like your dad does. Maybe he’d be able to fuck you without hitting you.

You’re good at diffusing the temper in most men, can touch them in ways that make them grit their teeth, can be a good girl and go fetch.

But you’re not in the mood to bend, to give someone’s son — someone’s husband with a tan line around their ring finger — a place to wipe their shoes on. You don’t feel like wiping their dirt, your mascara from your eyes and saying thank you while they zip up their pants.

And you sure as fuck don’t fancy being on a milk carton.

“I’m alright, sugar. Thanks for the ride,” you say, dipping your chin to peer over your sunglasses. “I know where to find you, don’t worry.”

Yeah fuckin’ right.

He doesn’t try to conceal his disappointment, just sucks his teeth and squeezes at the exposed skin of your thigh. His way of saying goodbye to something he could’ve dripped sweat on, came in too early. You think your flesh might rot off in chunks.

You open the door and swing your legs out in a way that’s a little too eager.

Tom-Tim-Jim waves solemnly with two fingers up and two bent, and then he’s gone in an aggressive rev.

The motel might’ve been a kitschy dream in its heyday. It’s not a total dump; more of a vintage skeleton of washed-out pink and umbrellas that’ve been ripped by weather and overuse. There are a million faded emblems of cartoonish palm trees. It’s almost endearing how tragic it is.

You can tell that it was popular and swarming with tourists at one time — there are dusty, water-stained pamphlets lining the wall next to the front desk that brag Named one of Arizona’s top destinations in 1996!

A mounted fan whirs and oscillates, but it might as well be someone blowing hot breath down your neck.

There’s a tired woman holding down the fort at the desk with a name tag that claims Brenda, and she looks surprised to see you. You figure most customers are stopping in for a night’s rest on the way to somewhere more important, their final destination. But you don’t look like you have anywhere better to be.

“Hey, honey,” Brenda trickles, laced with an accent that’s more New Orleans than Arizona. “Need a room?”

“Yeah, just for the night,” you say, fishing out your wallet with confidence that doesn’t meet your eyes. “How much?”

“Forty-five a night, ‘less you wanna upgrade to the honeymoon suite.” She looks somewhere over your shoulder.

That’s nearly everything you have, but it sounds a lot like tomorrow’s problem. At least you’ll be safe tonight from the prowling stares of nighttime predators, and the leftover change will give you a decent vending machine dinner.

“Just a normal room’s fine,” you smile, sliding over the crumpled, stolen fifty.

Brenda types busily on the keyboard, asking for your name but nothing else. And when she hands you a plastic keycard, you finally relax your shoulders. Untangle the nerves in your lower back that are choking one another.

Room 17, it reads. Your oasis awaits!

You thank her, spin on your heel, and immediately bump chest to chest with something hard.

You’re eye level with a worn, cornflower blue t-shirt, ringed with a light stain of sweat at the collar. They’re grasping both of your arms to steady you, and you’re snagging the gaze of a tousled man with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” he murmurs, but it isn’t reprimanding or mean like you’re used to, just sickly sweet and Texan. Syrupy in a way that drips right down between your legs.

You don’t remember seeing anyone else in the lot when you’d pulled up. And the stealth of him entering soundlessly behind you sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, the clench of something that would be fear if it were any other stranger.

But he doesn’t look at you with intent to devour or to claim. Just eyes you like you’re anyone else. An equal. The bare minimum, but rare and shiny nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and he’s releasing you a little too quickly for your liking. Leaving brands on the creases of where your forearms meet upper and elbow.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

So you don’t.

You brush past him on the way out, a polite nod. And that’s that.

The heat is the kind that feels hotter, unbearable when paired with the shrill sing of cicadas. An endless buzzing that you think might be the sun sizzling on the concrete. If you stood in one place for too long, your flip flops might very well melt you in place.

Your room key clicks to unlock Room 17, and you push the door open to a heavy, humid space that smells vaguely of mold. You’re so grateful for the privacy that you can’t even bring yourself to wrinkle your nose.

Flip flops discarded, your toes sink into shag carpet — a dirty luxury that makes you moan. It’s only been two days since you left home, fled home, but it beats sleeping with one eye open on a bus stop bench.

You up-end your leather bag, dumping all of its contents onto the bed. Cigarettes, some loose film canisters, your toothbrush, a lighter. There wasn’t much time to pack, nothing worth bringing, and the less, the better. Nothing to weigh you down if you had to dip at a moment’s notice.

It takes you only a couple minutes and a light sheen of sweat to realize that the A/C is busted. Smothered, you try to crack open a window in the bathroom, but it’s no cooler than the hell you’re standing in.

When you let Brenda know, she just shrugs with an apologetic kind of half-smile.

“Most of ‘em are out these days, honey,” she says, and you decide then that it’s a small price to pay. “We got someone comin’ to look at it next week.”

You shoot her a smile, figure that she’s had enough rotten backtalk in her day. You scoop a set of flamingo-themed matches from the bowl on the counter and turn around, only to see a familiar blue shirt waiting his turn.

His eyes try not to roam, but he’s giving you a nod and stepping up without hesitation, asking Brenda for extra towels.

The way that she titters and blushes, you’d think he’d asked if he could spit in her mouth.

It irritates you, and you can’t say why.

The door chimes behind you as it closes, and you linger, striking a match and lighting a cigarette. When he emerges, a stack of towels so high it’s hitting his chin, you step in stride on the walk back. Tracing his footsteps, catching up with his shadow.

“You followin’ me?” you quip, a cigarette dangling from your mouth. The cherry ignites on every breath, smoke erupting in tendrils that hug each word.

He answers with a laugh, turns and squints back at you with one eye. Almost as if he was expecting you to ask.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Could say the same to you.”

You stop in front of 17, hand over your brow to shield from the sun that’s winding its way down, getting ready to tuck itself in for the night. There’s nothing that touches your tongue that doesn’t sound exactly like a fuck yes. So you don’t say anything.

“Enjoy your sauna,” he chuckles over his shoulder, passing you with his towels on the way to Room 20.

—

Led Zeppelin filters out through the radio, half-static, half-electric. Your legs are crossed in the air behind you, and you’re posted up face down on the bed, kicking along to the beat while you flip through whatever Cosmopolitan someone left behind in a drawer.

Someone raps a few times on the door, and if it’s a repairman, they’re getting their fucking dick sucked.

You army-roll off the flowery duvet, abandoning a how-to on finding your g-spot, and you peer through the peephole.

Your breath hitches on a soft swear.

When you open the door, you see Blue T-Shirt standing there, skin creasing around his eyes slyly. An unopened beer hangs and swings from his restless fingers. He offers it up wordlessly, the butt of it pointed at you.

It’s ice-cold and slippery to the touch, erupting goosebumps on your forearm. Saliva coats your tongue, and you don’t think it’s the thirst for alcohol, but maybe the tall drink of water.

“Um… thanks?”

“Figured you’d either be dead by now or parched,” he says smugly, and it’s velvet to your ears.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. I got the fan to work at least,” you mutter, jerking your thumb vaguely behind you.

“Listen, uh —”

He’s rubbing the nape of his neck, and you catch the way the network of muscles flex from his elbow to the seam of his armpit. He looks like he’s in pain, struggling with the fit of a puzzle piece into something rough and jagged.

Something he shouldn’t be trying but has to see it through, exhaust it until it’s definite one way or the other.

You just squint, sucking in the corner of your lip between your teeth. You nearly grin, but it’s much more fun to watch than to connect the dots for him.

“A/C works in my room, so ‘f you wanted to… y’know,” he trails off, not even sure in his own offer. “No pressure. It’s hot as hell outside, don’t want you t’get heat stroke ‘f I can help it.”

This kind of approval you like. This kind that sizzles girl-honey between your legs, winning it from a man that’s playing to earn, not to cheat.

“I try not to make a habit out of going into motel rooms of guys I don’t know the names of,” you harp sweetly. But it might as well be a done-deal.

“D’you make a habit outta accepting beers from ‘em?”

You smile. Typically, yes.

“Joel.”

His hand shoots out, strong and suggestive. Fingers like alligator teeth that’ll grip you, hold you under until you thrash.

And you pluck your cigarettes and gifted liquor bottle from the bed, arms full when you carry them down to Joel’s room.

—

You’re sprawled on the full-size bed next to his, head propped up on hand propped up on elbow.

You’ve been trading your little fist of bourbon back and forth, swapping stories in the same way. Somehow, you fall into it easy like old friends, and it’s nice to follow someone’s lead instead of keeping one step, three, seven steps ahead. Arm outstretched to the door knob, feet ready to break into a run at the change in tone, blackening of pupils.

Without meaning to, you’ve wordlessly agreed that the person in possession of the bottle has the proverbial mic, and they swig to help with details and theatrics. It’s counter-productive in flow, but it makes you laugh when Joel exaggerates the story he’s telling on purpose, reaching out to pass it back and suddenly yanking it back, remembering a shade of gray or a funny expression.

Your knuckles keep zapping each other, brushing a little longer than the time before. There’s no numbness to consensual touch.

Joel’s mid-40s. From Texas, like you. He came to visit his daughter Sarah at college, says she’s growin’ up too fast, doesn’t need her old man anymore. It’s a thrill to see someone talk about their own flesh with love, admiration for who she is and who she’s becoming. You find yourself leaning in, enraptured that there are no IOUs or fine-print that you know to come with a parent’s love.

Mentions of his stubborn brother Tommy who he works with and who just can’t stop getting into trouble. The unspoken guilt that maybe he could be the one to keep him out of jail if he tried harder. It doesn’t work that way, and you tell him so.

You tell him about your dad when he asks about your life, your story, and you don’t know why you do but maybe you know exactly why. No one ever gets close enough to ask, so it comes leaking out of the corners of your mouth.

You’ve never told anyone, not even your diary, not even the guidance counselor who slipped a note to your fifth grade teacher and pulled you out of class. Shaky fingers, shaky limbs when they asked if they could roll up your sleeves just to see and you said no.

Crying because you knew your dad wouldn’t let you go back. Not to school, not to your friends.

You omit the nitty-gritty details, but Joel gets the gist. Swigs his share of the liquor a little too angrily with tight lips. Not like your dad does, but you don’t miss the irony of it all.

He holds anger for you, on behalf of you. It simmers as he listens to you in patient silence, coming to a boil at the bad parts when he gets up and starts walking lines in the shitty carpet. Pretending to look outside in interest at his truck parked at the end of the lot, but gripping the curtains until you can see every expanse of bone in his hand.

You don’t need this from him. It’s a hurt you’ve wedged between the pages of a book and doused in flames of acceptance long ago. But it spreads from your toes to your ears, the burn of someone feeling like this. For someone like you.

He finally settles down in an armchair by the window, a funny corduroy thing that would probably light up under a blacklight on one of those crime shows. Legs parted, a warm stare on the way you take up space on the bed. Facing him comfortably, your vision buzzing around the edges. A loose smile shared as if this room was meant for the two of you all along.

“So, what’s your plan?” Joel’s humming, his words getting lost in an echo of the bottle neck.

You don’t have one. Can’t have one when you have nowhere to go but gone.

It stretches on and on between you — a mouth opened and closed too many times on possibilities. If you admit to it, you end up with pity or an upper hand dealt to a stranger. You can’t afford to owe anyone a favor, nor can you front the cost of needing one.

But you’re so tired.

“Dunno. I’ll figure it out.”

“You got enough time for that?”

And you know what he means. Enough time in the motel, enough time before you’re a thief at wit’s end, doing anything for survival. He doesn’t need to ask to know you don’t have a destination, some relative waiting for you in a California dream.

You’ve excused yourself to the bathroom, soft radio bleeding in under the door, arms braced on the sink, all glossy eyes.

You want him, bad. But he won’t make the first move, won’t take advantage of what isn’t his and what others before him took without asking. You’re a pawn, entitled to the first move. The rejection would kill you, but not knowing would be worse.

He could hold you soft, give you something to think about when tomorrow rips you both in opposite directions.

When you pull open the door, Joel’s frozen in mid-stride towards you, like he’s just made up his mind about something.

He straightens but he’s still. Afraid of moving too fast, saying too much, scaring you into flight. Out of the unlocked cage of his room — something he did on purpose, because he doesn’t expect anything from you and wants you to know he doesn’t.

You meet him in his dusty shag quicksand. You take his wrist in your hand, kiss the thrum of life in the dip where veins meet palm. An offering.

Joel looks like he’s in pain, like what you’re doing is excruciating and thorny. The front of his jeans strains. He’s searching you for any hesitation, any obligation because he did something kind. He knows what currency you feel the need to pay in, and this isn’t that.

“Please,” you whisper simply. And he nods, accepting, succumbing.

There’s a careful meeting of lips, wanting to do it the right way, in the right order. When you push your tongue in, used to the pace of animals, he just holds your face and slows you down. It’s languid, his mouth showing you what sweet and gentle can taste like. Your tongues take their time, and your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, all ribbed muscle with a sprinkling of hair.

He shudders against the lightness of your feather-fingers.

Joel’s hands are peeling your shirt off, his thumbs resting to press against pillowy hips. He’s not letting your lips go, something like impatience stirring in you.

Doesn’t he want to fuck you hard? Fuck you fast and selfish?

Isn’t there a catch?

He’s taking his shirt off now, up and over. Carved by Michaelangelo, thrown up on a ceiling in a library book you read once. You’re touching him in reverence, but not letting yourself learn too much of him.

His eyes are molten. Joel walks you back to the edge of the bed, scratchy quilt tickling your thighs when you fall back on it. You start to pose yourself, angles that make you look more desirable, pliable. But he’s not paying attention to that, just unbuttoning your shorts, kissing the jut of every curve and permeating down to the bone, punching out a soft groan when he slides the denim off and sees the shining ambrosia that’s waiting.

He’s kneeling, tugging you down to meet his waiting mouth. And you’re just breathless, flinching when he pulls you apart, guiding your legs over his shoulders and wasting no time devouring you. Your legs, his bib.

Joel’s tongue flicks through the shell of you, teasing you in alternates of quick and slow, starving and full. It feels like a slice of heaven.

You pitch out a tangled gasp, hands instinctively moving to knot in his hair. Anything to hold onto, a different kind of grounding.

“So wet f’me,” he vibrates lowly into you, all husk. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

He sinks a middle finger into you, and you’re keening, hips canting and unable to stay glued to the mattress. You feel him smile against your cunt, just pressing his forearm across your lower half to keep you still.

Joel’s twisting and working into you, onto you, and you’re so fucking close from just this — a tiptoeing to the edge that grows longer, more erratic in stride. He sucks your clit — pulsing sensitive, so swollen — into his mouth and grazes it with the tip of his tongue just so. Baring his incisors and closing around you in a delicious scrape like a Venus flytrap taking its meal.

You think you see God behind the flutter of your eyes.

You’re close enough to warn him, to rasp it out in the symphony of moans. His free hand reaches up to roll your peaked nipple between his forefinger and thumb, and he stretches you with an added ring finger. You’re writhing. Possessed.

He’s watching you through thick lashes. Letting your heels dig into his shoulders as the drenched sounds of you fill the room.

“Joel, please — I’m gonna —”

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he just murmurs.

You feel that little pull at your navel.

And you’re tipping in a freefall, seeing stars. You clench down around his fingers, fingers that are still pumping against that spongy spot deep inside you. Your arousal gushes, wet and sticky against the scrape of his beard. He laps you up, the sight making heat creep up your chest and wrap around your neck.

When he lifts his head, he’s high on it. Pupils dilated like tiny, round moons. Your orgasm glistens on him, smeared over lips and chin. The fur of a peach peeled back far enough to sink teeth into.

It’s fucking filthy.

Joel places open-mouthed kisses from your hip up to the center of your breasts, a trail of your orgasm shiny on your skin in perfect, sloppy Os. His breath meets your throat where he nips at you, and you don’t have time to drag in a breath before you’re tasting the saltiness of yourself on his tongue.

Your fingers fumble on his belt, practiced with years of releasing the tension on the metal prongs, the slithering sound whooshing from the loops of pants. You’re good at it, like you used to be good at gymnastics until your mom stopped getting out of bed to drive you.

There was always a little gold for contorting your body.

He detaches from you unwillingly, putting all of his weight on his knees and shins as he straddles the space of your thighs.

You’re pulling yourself up in a sitting position, pushing denim and boxers down past his hips. Letting his cock spring free, the head a dark pink and beaded with precum. You swipe the flat of your tongue against it, peeking up at him while you soak up the taste of it.

When you push the length of him into your mouth, ridged hard with veins, Joel tips his head back, chin to the ceiling. He groans something brutish yet helpless, cradling the back of your head. You’re seated in the driver’s seat, all control.

It’s new, different.

But then he’s moving his hips back, pulling himself from your mouth, wiping the saliva from your chin with a steady thumb.

“Don’t need t’do that,” Joel whispers hoarsely. “Not ‘f you don’t want to.”

Confused, you knit your brows. He laughs darkly, shaking his head.

“Didn’t mean it like that, it’s — it feels fuckin’ good,” he says, awestruck. “Would just rather make you feel good instead.”

Oh.

He doesn’t wait for an answer or a negotiation. The rest of his clothes pool on the floor in a pile, and he’s climbing back over you, an anchor or a buoy in a storm.

He lines himself up at the seam of you, puffy and so wet from before, nudging the tip of his cock at your warm center. A thumb coaxing the bud at the apex of you in lazy circles.

Joel’s sliding in slowly by each inch, filling you full until there’s nothing left and his patch of hair prickles the pearl of your clit. All you can do is whine and tense around him.

He’s resting tentative hands on either side of your face, indenting the weak mattress with handprints. He groans, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give in when you try to rock against him.

“This alright?”

You’ve forgotten how to do anything, hoping that digging your fingertips into his forearms is communication enough.

“I’m gonna need a yes, baby.”

You feel around in the dark for the tether back to your body, and it jerks you like a marionette, giving him a nod.

“Yes. Fuck.”

That’s enough. He’s rewarding you with a roll of his hips, and you feel like you’re on fire. It’s a stuttering, painfully slow pace at first, his mouth so close to your ear that every grunt is amplified. But it evolves into something eager, unsatiated, snapping up into you with a relentless sort of fucking.

He’s hitting that place so deep within you, letting you unravel and grow hoarse from the moans tearing their way up your throat. That pressure is roiling, the kind that you get only when you touch yourself but intensified by a million.

It just feels so right, because there’s nothing to prove.

You’re ships passing in the night, strangers making a pit-stop on the way to nowhere. There’s no backstory, no history to make mention of. No shame in the morning when he inevitably rolls over and pretends to be asleep, and you scrub off the smell of him with your provided travel-size shampoo.

It’s not love, but it might be the closest you ever get.

The glow of him above you, a deity with his face screwed in agony. Chasing after you when he feels the tightening of your cunt, the easy glide of every thrust that tells him you’re close.

Then, you’re snapping like a rubber band. Gushing in a dripping mess that trickles to where your ass meets thigh. Crying without tears, overstimulated but blissful. Joel is quick to follow, like he’s been waiting his turn.

He’s trembling, emptying inside you in a warm flood. Groaning low and beautiful, gripping your hips to keep you flush to him.

When pulls out, tearing himself away, he’s slinging an arm over his eyes on the pillow beside yours. One hand on your leg to make sure you don’t go anywhere.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him mutter.

At some point you drift off, his arm draped over you. You open a bleary eye to a neon 2:49AM that casts a halo over the nightstand. Joel’s tucked you in, the thin duvet snug up to your shoulder. He’s not snoring but not not snoring, just breath getting caught in his throat in a satisfied, well-spent way.

It’s all too much, too pure to be real.

Before you let yourself change your mind, you slink out from under the warmth of your generous stranger. You step in your shorts one foot at a time, tugging them up gelatin legs too springy from coiling and uncoiling.

You promise yourself that you’ll take just one mental picture as a keepsake, and it’s this. A sleepy Joel who will be well on his way to a second cup of coffee on the way out of Arizona, maybe even nursing a little headache behind his right eye. And he’ll remember an apparition of some girl he fucked in a motel. The touristy thing to do, a sight to see.

He might even tell Tommy, say you were a crazy little thing with too much baggage, but it was fun to stay up past his bedtime.

You don’t mean to do it, really you don’t, but you flip through his wallet that lays innocently on top of the TV.

If you take a little something, that’ll turn this into another one of your stories that you tell your kids born from a loveless marriage somewhere in the crevices of a future from now. It won’t pull on the tendons of your heart.

And it won’t mean anything. You won’t let it.

—

The next morning, there’s a soft knock at the door, and it’s probably housekeeping kicking you out for overstaying your welcome. Time to turn down the bed for the next lost soul. You imagine Joel’s long gone, hopped in his truck and back to a reality you’ll never meet him in.

Your fingers are slow to gather up your purse, and you’re shoving your toothbrush in from its place on the sink.

“I’ll be out in a second!” you yell in a voice that reeks of years of diner-flavored customer service.

More persistent knocking that borders on pounding. It shakes the chain in the deadbolt.

You’re yanking open the door, and there’s Joel, white shirt and jeans. And it isn’t that cushion of admiration from last night, no greeting with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Just a wolf coming to claim his continental breakfast.

Fuck.

You try to shut the door, suddenly too ashamed of what you’ve done, and to someone undeserving. Someone that showed you kindness, empathy.

But his boot catches the door before it can close, and he’s inside, slicing through the space between you. It’s not quite anger, but it’s shadowy. Sardonic.

Your shoulder blades kiss the cheap wallpaper.

“You’re real funny, y’know that?” he starts, and he’s smiling but not really.

Shrinking small, so small that maybe you’ll disappear.

There’s a tick of silence. His thumb skates to your collarbone and then to the hollow at the base of your throat. He wants to squeeze but he doesn’t, his fingers wrapping loosely around the column to fix you there. Heat creeps up the back of your neck into your hairline.

The instinct to flinch bubbles up against your joints, but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Y’think you can fuck me,” he muses, disgustingly deadpan, “‘n steal from me.”

Dread weighs heavy like lead in your stomach. You can’t stop yourself from shaking your head, still playing dumb.

He bristles at that, thunderous. You both know it’s a lie; you’re a hundred dollars richer than you were last night. His fingers briefly flex around you in a way that you’ve seen before, and horror hits a fever pitch in you.

Tears prick your eyes, and you’re putting your palms on his chest and shoving, but he doesn’t give. Unstoppable force meets immovable object, and all that.

It’s not so much the blaring punctuation in a sentence, the ticking of dynamite ready to blow. He’s confronting you with proximity, with your own dishonesty. Wanting to shake you and tell you that it doesn’t have to be this way.

Joel just leans in closer, almost grazing noses. You try to breathe around the lump of panic.

“The hell’s the matter with you?”

It’s disbelief, it’s hurt. In the same way, it’s understanding, incredulous. It’s him stepping back and loosening the hold around your neck like no one’s ever done; it’s softening and imploring.

He’s shoving his hands in his pockets, guilty and recoiling. Sorry he could even make himself look like one of them — a forced penance in the flesh.

There’s no answer that can justify what you did. Nothing simple about nothing personal. But truly… that’s all it was. A pie wafting steam on an open windowsill. Something to make you feel better about the void he’d leave.

“‘F you needed money, you coulda just asked.”

He’s disappointed, desperate. In a tone that really says, I would’ve done anything you wanted.

A dam inside you gives, crumbling deep at the foundation and knocking the walls down around you. Words don’t come, but you shove your hand in blind into your bag, pulling out the loose bill and extending it.

Joel sees the regretful offering and your heart with x-ray vision. That you think of yourself as a doll, less valuable without her box. Used without tags. Free to a good home.

He shakes his head, the softness of a keep it barely peeking out of his mouth.

You’re skinning yourself raw, wanting another way out but having none. With half a mind to say that the next night could come with fangs.

You feel the stab of relief, and shame. So much shame.

Like a soothsayer, he foresees the coldness of a bench, the shrinking of you into the safety of an alley.

You drop to your knees in exaltation, thinking you know what’ll fix this. You can’t see through the watercolor blur of your tears, but you touch his belt with fingers that are cold to the tips.

But Joel knows what you’re doing, shaking his head no no no.

He won’t let you do it like this. He drags you up gently by the elbows. Pulls you into his chest, says stop stop stop. Kisses your hair, then your lips. You cry until he can taste the tears, until the front of his shirt is damp.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp out roughly. “I’m so sorry.”

He tells you to never say sorry to him again.

—

Joel pays for a room for two more nights, but only one — his with the working A/C.

You move your toothbrush and your bag over to Room 20.

You go to the pool, swimming laps around him in a tank top and your cherry-embroidered underwear, squealing and splashing in a flail when he swims underneath your legs and stands up to hold you on his tan shoulders.

Sunscreen streaks greasy on your stomach when you lay out together on the loungers after. Joel likes a cat-nap with his face under a towel, grumpy and tired from the sun. But he never snaps at you, never gets impatient when you ask too many questions while he’s dozing off.

You learn the pinched expression he makes just before he comes. That his right palm has hundreds of lines you can see best by lamplight. He misses the noise of Sarah in his house, of sharing the coffee pot with someone. He doesn’t like the small piling of toast crumbs left only by him on the kitchen table.

He learns that you apologize for wet, clean hair on his pillowcase, for laughing too loud. Things that don’t need a sorry. A collection of oversaturated manners that might take time to unlearn, but he promises to teach you.

He learns that you approach an orgasm with tentative toes in cold water, almost unbelieving that sex can give, give, give instead of take, take, take. He learns that you like the meeting of eyes when he’s buried between your legs, pushing your thighs apart to keep from suffocating. That when he does let you get on your knees for him, you know just the spot to caress with your tongue on the underside of his cock.

Joel’s belt is snaked under your stomach, across your hips, fists intertwined in the leather as he pulls you back, slams himself forward. It bites and creates indents in your flesh, and you don’t care. He gives you marks to love, to admire in your reflection, never ones that are ugly. Never ones out of hate over spilled milk.

There’s a dirty slap of skin, growing louder, competing with your moans. Your nails are tearing into the cheap sheets, and Joel’s so close but won’t come until he coaxes another out of you. A grand total of at least four by now, but you’ve lost count.

At long last, you splinter around him. Pitching off the cliff in a cry. Joel’s leaning — his chest, your back — and spilling deep, holding onto you for dear life. You hear him whimper in a strangle. Big, tough game that’s been taken down with an arrow in his chest.

Hot tears are flowing out of you, stuttering sobs close to follow, and Joel pulls out slowly. Seems to know why. And he rolls you over, into him, hand careful in slow strokes against your hair.

You’ve never been good at goodbyes. Maybe that’s what this is.

Men like to say that women like you are insane, too analytical, too tear-streaked, too conscious of the way they look when they sleep. Because waking up with your mouth open, a drying corner of drool threatening your cheek is too human, not pretty.

Sometimes women like you are dead, rotting pomegranate flesh. Long forgotten in decay on the ground when the weight became too heavy to hold yourself up. And those men pick up your seeds and shove them squelching back into places where they don’t fit.

The winters come bitter and harsh, but you’re always reborn in the spring. And without fail, you grow back fiercely into a tree reminiscent of Eden, low-hanging apples plucked and bruised and bitten into once and spit out in tart disgust.

Women like you choke men like this with your pits, strangle them with vines, poison them with berries. They can consume, but so can you.

But then, in the ripe, cool shade of summer, you’ll have a visitor like Joel that will come with a basket and a blanket and they’ll stay and read books beneath you. They’ll enjoy your fruit, you’ll drip from their mouth and dry tacky like flypaper, and they won’t be able to imagine a day before you.

They’ll collect all the pieces of you on a Tuesday morning and give you change to get a Coke after checkout. They’ll tuck you into the front seat of their truck, let you put your feet up on the dash, hand protective and calm on your thigh while the other steers you both back to Texas. A new home without shouting and bottles thrown.

And they’ll stay through every season.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us au #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #fire walk #my writing #joel miller one shot #motherofagony

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mt-oe · 3 months

Note

I’ve just been highly obsessed over modern Mizu. So I’m just asking for that, modern Mizu meets reader at uni or something like that! I love LOVE your writing!! 💖💖

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you don't mind if I add a bit more to this <3 I've been wanting to write modern au Mizu hcs and your request really granted me the opportunity to do so.

Also, I'm so sorry for being so slow on the requests. I've been so eepy lately for some reason and I can't fight against it, like I tried but failed so many times ;; I am a slave to my own body

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader, game reference (league of legends)

general headcanons

✦ This woman would either overload or underload her units like crazy. She'd either be busy with her academics and work 6 days a week, even sending a letter to the admin so she can go past the mandated maximum amount of units in one semester or doing absolutely nothing while the rest of her friends are going apeshit on their finals. There's no in between.

She would plan it like an absolute psychopath too. Nothing special foreseeably happening in the next semester? She's going above and beyond. A convention she wants to go to on September? Signing up for the bare minimum amount of allowed units just for one event.

Her friends are either concerned for her and losing contact for a whole semester, or are pissed off that she's playing some kind of gacha game on her phone while they're losing their minds on their finals.

✦ Would be the type to be so pissed off by slow walkers in the hallway. The hatred she has for people who walk so fucking slow in the hallway is unbridled. Though she's not the type to pick fights, she'd be the type to sigh loudly, making you feel her anger, before overtaking and wouldn't be afraid to bump against the person if needed. Her hatred goes deep enough to the point where she even remembers people JUST because they walk slow.

✦ The type of friend who would walk to everything. Sure she has her motorbike, but if she can walk to it, you bet she's going to walk. She even knows different shortcuts to different buildings on campus.

"This looks like a good place," Akemi tells them, showing her phone. For once, their vacant hours finally aligned and they've been trying to find a good place to eat since the lunch hall food was getting repetitive and they could feel their taste buds dulling over time. Akemi, being the 'what do you guys want to eat?' friend, and the other three, being the 'I don't know' or the 'I'm fine with whatever' friends, is left to search for a new place.

They took a look at the place and shrugged in agreement, making her roll her eyes at their lack of opinion. "Okay but how are we going to go there?" Taigen asks. Mizu takes Akemi's phone and looks up the map to the place. The distance itself was enough to tell a person that they should take the bus. Hell, it was on the other side of town almost.

"We can walk. It's not that far," she says, closing the map and handing Akemi her phone back. They trusted Mizu. It couldn't be that bad.

Right?

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, they were already sweating, ready to give up, tired out of their wits. The food wasn't even worth it anymore.

"It's not that far" my ass.

Even Taigen, her fellow gym rat and workout buddy, was fucking exhausted. And this bitch (affectionately), has the audacity to stand there, crossing her arms with the most unamused expression on her face as if it was their fault for being so exhausted. If she tells you its walking distance, it is NOT within walking distance.

✦ She's a jack-of-all trades type of person, but she'd have the fattest fucking talent crush on anyone who can express themselves through art. The talents and skills she gathered were purely out of necessity. Fixing and modifying bikes was the only thing she was truly passionate about but it's hard to be expressive through repairing motorbikes, right?

She has always been so amazed by stories of painters, sculptors, singers, and writers who have deep backstories and can reflect it through their art. She would be the type to read the whole description in art museums just because she's so amazed by them.

Deep inside her, she wished she could do that too. To express herself through a medium. Like what do you mean you wrote this poem because you're sad your cat died? Or what do you mean you took this professional-looking picture just because you had the best picnic date with your friends? How can someone write a song about casual sapphic sex? She can't even vocalize her feelings, how much more in art? Whenever she sees someone writing their English essay so well or drawing randomly, she'd secretly be so interested.

✦ Mizu would have social media accounts but would use it bare minimum. She'd be that type of classmate that you're not sure if it's really her because she doesn't have a profile picture you can check or if she does, it's like a picture of an item instead of her face.

Her friends would be so happy whenever Mizu posts an IG story even if it's just a picture of where they were eating or even if their face is barely in the picture.

"Aww you posted us!" and they're like little ants with how small they were in the picture.

"Do you want to eat at that place again?" and she'd be like 'what? why?' but they'd know she actually enjoyed the food because she bothered posting a picture of the place.

Deep inside her, Mizu wants to keep up with whatever trends her friends are into but she's very lowkey about it. The tough love friend who secretly really enjoys being friends, y'know? She'd search about it and try to figure it out. Everyone's surprised by her internet knowledge since she always acts like she wouldn't give a shit whatever new trend is on.

✦ This sounds so corny and stereotypical, but Taigen and her would be those gym rats who solve everything by working out. It didn't matter if it was a weekday, a weekend, a holiday, or whatever weather condition was going on outside, they are going.

They failed a test? Gym. Hungover? Gym. Too much homework? Gym.

When Megan Thee Stallion said she'll go to the gym two times a day, they go three. When she said the results are resulting? The body is bodying? These two are taking it seriously.

Taigen would focus on biceps, chest, and lats, cutting down on fat so his body would look more lean. He'd hate leg day but would do it anyway just to balance out his physique.

Meanwhile, Mizu would have a 'sleeper-type' build and her routine would be more well-rounded and would even include calisthenics on her free time. They'd try to beat each other's PR but it really ain't a competition when Mizu is always winning.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

how did you two meet?

Stupid shitty project.

Stupid fucking publisher gatekeeping the fucking article.

Stupid bitch ass school wifi keeps disconnecting.

Mizu resisted the urge to slam her laptop shut as her device disconnected from the wifi for the nth time. She was stuck in the library trying to finish her midterm project for building design system and holy shit was she frustrated.

She needed to create a specific building design that was supposed to be environmentally friendly, using what was considered as 'green materials' and had minimally destructive designs. It wouldn't be so bad if this fucking publisher just had to put a price on the article she needed. Wasn't education supposed to be free or whatever?

Her friends tried to help her, telling her to use the library computers, but none of them were working or free at the moment. That leaves her to use her laptop in the library. Usually, that wouldn't be a problem but due to the recent rains, the school wifi has been pretty shitty.

After a few more tries, she decided that this wasn't worth the frustration and trouble, and decided to collect her things to get ready to leave. Just as she was about to zip up her bag, a tap on the shoulder stopped her. She turned around to look at who was trying to get her attention, ready to tell them off. But upon turning around, her heart skipped a beat.

There you stood.

In your oh-so fancy sweatpants and college logo hoodie (whose logo wasn't even the university's). Your hair was ruffled and messy, eyes tired and more exhausted than her's. Understandably so though. It was hell week and everyone was tired, but somehow, your tired looked so pretty.

Her eyes continued to stare at you. Like the world stopped moving and it was just you and her in the room.

"Umm...there's a free computer over there if you still need it," you said shyly but in a straightforward manner. A small tired smile on your lips, trying to appear as friendly as possible. Mizu snapped out of her trance and nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder to move to the said computer.

Maybe she'll stay for a bit. To finish her midterm project.

Definitely not for the pretty lady.

No, of course not.

Upon sitting down, she couldn't help but sneak glances at you, looking back down at the screen when you looked in her direction. She felt stupid, like a lovestruck fool. Borderline, like a child getting their first actual crush.

In her mind, she was already planning how to approach you without making it awkward. Maybe she'll try to strike up a conversation? But how? Hmmm..

It definitely took a while, being distracted and all, but she was finally able to finish her report. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself mentally to talk to you. She stood up and stretched after logging herself out, pretending to look around the room but in reality she was looking for you.

Much to her dismay, you were no where to be found. A small "fuck" left her lips as she sighed, picking her bag up. The universe must hate her. Giving her an opportunity to see the most beautiful person she's ever seen only for them to leave early? Fuck.

Her thoughts continued to plague her for the rest of the day, even until the next morning. It sounded so silly and so stupid for her to be this bothered, but she really just couldn't forget you. She sighed once again as she stared at the lecture hall walls, face hidden against her palms.

"Excuse me. Do you have an extra pencil?" a voice asked as she felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking up grouchily, her eyes widened immediately.

It was you.

And this time, she wasn't going to let this opportunity pass.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

but what now? (girlfriend headcanons)

✦ Mizu would absolutely remember EVERYTHING about you. Your birthday, MBTI score, favorites, dislikes, and even the silliest things such as what makes you sneeze.

She has a second brain for these, an internal SSD in her brain just for you. You won't even have to remind her about anything, because she already planned it out before you remember.

It's especially great for errands since you don't have to give her a list, she already has a list in her brain. Sometimes, you'd think she forgot because she's so quiet about it but she always finds a way to prove you wrong. If she says she forgot something about you, it's a lie. She never forgets, especially when it comes to her girlfriend.

✦ Would pretend to not understand or know how to do something just so you could teach or show her. Mizu definitely has a lot of skill up her sleeves, but whenever you asked if she knew something that she knew you were good at, she'd pretend not to.

"So I just click like this?" she asked you through the call, clicking on a minion. You had enthusiastically called her, asking if she wanted to learn how to play League of Legends. Unknown to you, your girlfriend already knew how to play and was quite good at it (that's a lie, she's beyond good).

She couldn't help but smile slightly as she watched you nod enthusiastically. The thought of you being so eager to spend time with her was heart-warming. She even made a dummy account just to make her beginner act look believable. "Yeah, you just need to keep this up. So should we queue together?" you asked, sounding really excited.

Mizu chuckled and nodded. "Don't get mad at me, okay?" she joked lightly, accepting your invite. "I won't. I'll be the ADC so you can play support until you get the hang of it, okay?" you said, checking which ADR champions you had cool skins of. Your girlfriend let out a small laugh at your enthusiasm, signaling you to start the queue.

The game went really well. Extremely well.

To your surprise, Mizu was quite a good support. Never accidentally stealing your CS, always being there during a clash, skill shots always hitting, knowing who to focus on. "It's because you're good at teaching people," she said.

But really, you wonder how she knew which items to build when you never even taught her.

✦ Would do the most random or the smallest things for you. She's not good at expressing her feelings so she makes up for it through acts of service and gift giving. Mizu tries her best to be as loving as she can without overwhelming you.

Can you even remember the last time you tied your own shoelaces? You can't. Can you?

Sometimes, you'll be surprised to arrive home with the fridge already stocked even though you had told her that you'll do the groceries on your next day off. The only response you'll get is a shake of her head and a random thing you mentioned you wanted to buy.

Sometimes, she's a bit silly though. Putting in the effort to remove her jacket to shield you from the rain even though you had an umbrella, removing the buckle of your helmet so she'd be the one to put it on you, gifting you random goofy greeting cards.

It's both endearing and a bit funny.

✦ Secretly loves it when you put makeup on her or if you let her do your makeup. Her amazement and fascination skyrockets whenever she watched you put make up on. It was a line of femininity that she was never taught to cross. She'd watch you with deep interest, observing how carefully you did it, how purposeful each step you did was.

"So why do you put it on?" she asks. You hum in thought before shrugging. "It just...makes me feel pretty."

What do you mean it makes you feel pretty?

You were already pretty.

You can't help but laugh at her and her curiosity. "It just does. It feels therapeutic to put on and I like how I look after, it's like expressing myself or something. Like painting but on your face," you explained to her, making her raise an eyebrow.

"But what if you don't like the way it looks?" she asked, picking up your eyeshadow palette and swatching a color on her hand curiously. "I can always take it off," you answered, blending the blush on your cheeks.

She stayed silent for a moment, continuing to swatch the colors on her hand. Her mind still couldn't wrap around the fact that this could make you feel better. Its just color and chemicals, and it washes off too.

Your eyes scanned her face before a soft laugh left your lips. "Here. Want to try?" you offered. Your girlfriend looked a bit hesitant but she wanted to understand.

Was this really fun?

After a few minutes, some struggles and squirming, you finally finished putting some make up on her. You tried your best to make it look as natural and as light as possible, knowing that she wouldn't appreciate the texture of heavy makeup immediately.

Blue eyes scanned over her own face on the mirror. She didn't say anything, but the slight twitch of her lips and the shine in her eyes spoke thousands.

"I want to do it on you too," she said quietly. "At least one thing. Let me try to do it for you."

You heart melted at her excitement. How could you refuse her when she finally finds something she likes? You handed her your eyeliner and sat down. "Here, follow my instructions.."

Mizu actually ended up liking it. Although she enjoyed putting it on you more, she still enjoyed it nonetheless. The amount of practice she put in made you wonder if she was actually better than you now. Somehow, she felt a bit of relief and a bit happy that she finally found something she could do that was considered as 'artistic'.

What started off as a simple "let me try" ended up being part of your routine. This woman never stopped practicing different eyeliner looks and now she just sits on your bed, waiting for you to finish your routine so she can put it on you. Sometimes she'd do a more creative graphic liner look, but on days you had to go to uni or work, she'd do the usual. She could probably do it with her eyes closed.

And the results?

SHARP.

Capital S H A R P.

#bes mizu #bes x reader #bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai netflix #mizu bes #mizu #mizu x reader #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x fem!reader

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five-rivers · 9 months

Text

Daedalus

@regular-dog Hello! I am your holiday truce gifter this year! I hope you enjoy this labyrinth-themed fic. Happy New Year!

Only three years in, and it was already impossible to tell how big Amity Park was. Normal methods of surveying didn’t work. Physical maps were either always right or always wrong, and sometimes both at once. Driving across the city at a constant speed didn’t help, either. The outgoing trip and the return trip never seemed to match, and there simply weren’t enough one-way streets in Amity Park for that to be the answer to the problem.

Asking the residents didn’t help, either. They couldn’t even agree on how big the city they lived in was. Some of them acted like Amity Park was the second coming of Chicago, others expressed confusion when Amity Park was referred to as anything but a small town.

(The census data was almost worse.)

But no matter what version of Amity a particular resident believed they lived in, there were always similarities. There was always Casper High, and its Ravens, and every student went there, and learned from Mr. Lancer, and heard the rumors about Sydney Poindexter. There was always the Nasty Burger, and Valerie Gray working one of the many distasteful jobs that the place had to offer. There was always Amity Park Park, confusingly named and full of even more confusing paths, whether it was a city park or a county park, or something else altogether.

There was always Fentonworks, rising tall and strange from a small, ordinary neighborhood.

There was a heaviness there, around that particular building. A weight that drew in other things, that twisted. It was the heart of a labyrinth of streets, of old roads and new, of forest paths and disused hiking trails. It was the heart of Amity Park.

And it should be said that, at the heart of any labyrinth, there was a monster.

And it should be said that, at the threshold of every labyrinth, there was a princess.

And it should be said that the one thing that every labyrinth waits for is a hero.

Samantha Manson wound golden string around her fingers, thinking. It glowed faintly in the dark of her room, like the thinnest, purest beam of sunlight cast through morning mist and a thick canopy of leaves overhead.

However, her eyes didn’t linger on it. Instead, she looked out the window over her– garden– conservatory– greenhouse– private park– the place where she went to grow plants, and be among them, that may or may not have changed in nature and size while she was looking. Which may or may not have had many natures and sizes.

She closed her eyes. Insight was useful, as vital as the blood in her veins and the lightning in her nerves, but it had its drawbacks.

When she opened them again, a hedge maze stood dark and tempting beneath the light of a moon that should not be full and should not be there and had never been that big, in any case. The lights of Amity- rising high with skyscrapers or low to the ground and scattered among farmhouses– laid beyond it.

In her hands, the string hummed, as if it had been held taught and plucked. A single, clear note filled the air.

“Do you think it will work?” she asked.

There shouldn’t have been anyone in her room, and there wasn’t. But her nearest neighbors could be five miles from the walls of her home or five feet, and she rarely spoke to them. The distance between friends was greater, but also infinitely less.

Tucker looked up from his computer, which sat at his desk, in his own room, in his own house, the light from the moon shining in from the window behind him. His glasses reflected the pale, bluish light of his computer screen. The wheels of his desk chair rolled across the carpet of his room - so different from hers - with a squeak.

“You’re not getting cold feet now,” he said. It wasn’t so much a question as an exclamation.

Sam sniffed. “Of course not. But I’m not the one taking the biggest risk, am I?”

There was a third room. This one dark and starry. The glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to every available surface were normal. The patterns they were in were not. Nor were the eyes that stared out from beneath star-spangled bedsheets. Nor was the moon, gleaming from windows stationed on either side of the bed.

“I’m not sure if it actually matters if it works,” said the owner of those eyes, blinking slowly. “I mean, if it works the way it’s supposed to work. We’ll just go back to plan A if it doesn’t.”

“No offense, Danny, but plan A sucked,” said Tucker.

“How am I not supposed to take offense to that?” whined Danny. “Plan A is fine. It’s a normal plan. I know my city.” The last was said with a casual but deep possessiveness.

“Plan A wasn’t even really a plan,” said Sam. “Your plan was to just fly in and find them, never mind all the other things that are happening.”

“That’s not so different from this plan,” protested Danny. “It’s basically the same. It’s just the how that’s different.”

“Pretty big how, though,” said Tucker. “And I thought you liked this plan.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Danny. “I’m just saying, I’m just saying that even if it doesn’t work, we won’t be any worse off than we were at the beginning, before, you know. The research.” He pointed vaguely in the direction of his window.

Somehow, Sam knew that he was, in fact, pointing at the stack of thick books sitting on her desk. Only, instead of pointing at them across the there-not-there division between their rooms, he was pointing in their true direction, across the streets and forests of Amity Park.

The covers of the books shouldn’t have been legible in the darkness. Sam could read them anyway. Greek mythology. Sympathetic magic. Recurrence. Narrative causality. Daedalus, Icarus, Theseus, Ariadne, Asterion.

Four days ago, New Athens High School had sent a bus bearing the fourteen members of their track team and their coach to a meet in Elmerton. On the way back, the driver had made a wrong turn, knifing straight through the heart of Amity. The bus, the driver, and the coach had come out the other side. No one knew what had happened to the track team.

Danny had spent three of those days looking for them. Amity Park had spent those same three days winding itself more tightly than the ball of string sitting on Sam’s desk. Whether it was downtown, or the forest, or the suburbs, the part of Amity New Athens’ bus had passed through was a maze.

A labyrinth.

They’d thrown themselves into research, then, begging for information from their allies. Or, rather, from Danny’s allies. Most of them, with the exception of Dora, were there for him more than for the rest of them. Pandora was the one who had finally noticed the connections, the links with old stories, the resonance.

There was a labyrinth. There were sacrifices. Other roles–

“Or, if you don’t want to leave it, you could send Tucker in,” said Danny, shrugging slightly. “If it doesn’t work with just me. You know.”

Sam’s fingers slipped.

Sam was the obvious choice for the role of princess. Danny was the obvious choice for the role of hero.

He should have been, anyway.

“Hence why I’m asking if you think it’ll work,” said Sam, sharply.

“I hope it’ll work.”

Sam huffed. “Not what I’m asking.”

“It won’t hurt to try.”

“It might,” said Sam. “The monster dies at the end of the story. The princess is abandoned. Even Theseus doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“And we aren’t those characters. It isn’t as if Tucker is going to cut my head off.” Again, Danny waved in Tucker’s true direction, rather than across the emptiness of his room. “We’re the ones making the decisions. We’re just using the stories for– For narrative clout. Or however you described it.”

“Danny…”

“It’ll be fine. I mean,” he looked up at her with those too-bright eyes, the rest of his face black with shadows, “if you’re having second thoughts, it’s fine. We can try something else.”

“I’m not having second thoughts.” Sam began to unwind the string from around her fingers, wrapping it around the rest of the ball. The maze outside her window had become a winding garden path, and the neighbors were once again nearby.

Tucker cleared his throat. “First thing in the morning, then? We ride at dawn and all that?”

“Before dawn would probably be better, honestly,” said Sam.

Danny sighed. “I’ll set my alarm clock.”

It might have been neater to enter the maze in Sam’s backyard, or to start from the spiraling center that was Fentonworks, but that wasn’t where the bus had disappeared. The bus had disappeared going through downtown Amity Park.

Well. Insofar as the bus had disappeared in any particular location. And insofar as Amity Park had a downtown.

The lack of permanence of place made discussing things like this somewhat difficult.

Still. At the moment, there was a downtown. A historical shopping district, as a matter of fact. As he walked down the sidewalk in the crisp, gray, predawn light, Danny could feel beneath his feet a hum. The shopping district here was the mainstreet of small town Amity, even as skyscrapers loomed overhead, and the layers felt real enough for Danny to reach out and rub them between his fingers.

(They weren’t really, but they felt like it.)

He stopped in front of an alley that smelled of cinnamon and sea salt. Here, the layers parted, and you could slip between them, into the interstices and forbidden places of Amity Park.

“Is this the place?” asked Tucker.

“Yeah,” said Danny. “I think so.” He motioned them to the mouth of the alley, where they’d be covered by shadows and next to unnoticeable by those who were firmly in any one version of Amity Park. “Sam?”

She teased out the end of the golden string and cast it towards Danny. As it flew through the air, it twisted and knotted itself before falling over Danny’s head. The loops shrunk around his neck, creating a narrow golden collar.

Danny raised his hand to touch it and made a face. “It’s tight,” he said.

“Sorry,” said Sam, glaring at the ball of string as if it had betrayed her. “I don’t–”

“It’s fine,” said Danny, waving it off. “Just unexpected.”

“Right,” said Tucker, stepping forward. “Your sword, Theseus.” He handed Danny a Fenton invention that had a passing resemblance to a lightsaber.

Danny rolled his eyes and took the small cylinder. “Thanks. But don’t call me that.”

“Hey, that’s the story we’re trying to tell.”

“We’ll give it a tug if we run out of string,” said Sam.

“Mm,” said Danny. “Well. Might have to give it more than one. Don’t let me drag you in.”

Sam snorted. “What, like you drag us into everything else?”

“Seriously. Just let me go if I start pulling too hard.”

“No way,” said Tucker. “We’ll just tie you onto some building or something.”

“I have been known to bring down buildings.”

“Well, don’t,” said Sam.

“Wow. No sympathy here, I see.”

“Nope,” said Sam and Tucker together.

“Now go save the tourists,” said Sam, pushing him forward.

“They’re not really tourists,” said Danny. But even so, he stepped across the line and into the gap.

Into the labyrinth.

The in-between spaces of Amity Park did not immediately look like they were the in-between spaces of Amity. Danny sometimes liked to imagine that they were what Amity Park used to look like, before it became a dozen different, mutually exclusive places. That had to be impossible, though. There was too much, too many different things, afterimages and fantasies and illusions.

People walked on the streets, and cars drove, but they were transparent, projections from the layers of Amity immediately bordering this space. Sometimes, they walked through each other, not noticing at all.

Danny still flinched when it looked like cars were about to run into one another, and let out a breath of relief when they instead seemed to phase through each other.

So he walked.

He walked, and as he walked, the road began to change. He began to change. Facades paled. Grecian columns reached up the sides of skyscrapers and ranch homes. Brick turned to marble. Danny’s t-shirt and jeans slowly, gently, became a chiton and chlamys, trimmed in red. The Fenton Saber became a sword of green-tinted bronze, strapped to a belt around his waist. His shoes became sandals, laced up to his knees.

It wasn’t the first time Danny had worn clothing like this. He did visit Pandora. But he’d never worn it in Amity Park. It was a little embarrassing. The ancient Greeks’ idea of underwear was… lacking, in Danny’s opinion. But it wasn’t as if anyone here could see him.

The act of walking here also felt strange, and Danny couldn’t understand why this was needed. Not really. Not the act, not the ritual. By virtue of his nature, he could duck in and out of anywhere in Amity whenever he wanted. Mostly. At least, he could find places to duck in and out whenever he wanted.

He should have been able to find the missing students without any problem.

But he hadn’t.

And he still wasn’t finding them. There was no pull. No indication of what direction he should go, what direction he could find them in.

Danny sighed, and the sky above boiled with stars.

He looked up, not having expected that, then shrugged and continued to walk. Things here were strange.

There were words on the walls, now, carved into the marble alongside window displays for cell phones and stationary. Ἀστερίων, Ἀριάδνη, Θησεύς. He traced Ἀριάδνη with his fingers. It sparked gold, the same color as the string around Danny’s neck.

And then the string flexed. Pulled. Spooled forward, winding into a ball in front of Danny. A short thread was thrown off of the rapidly spinning ball and settled on Danny’s head before solidifying into something heavy and cold.

(Elsewhere, the end of the string tears itself out of Sam’s hand, disappearing into the rift between.)

“Oh,” said Danny. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, and mentally apologized to his friends for worrying them. “Theseus was from Athens. Ariadne wasn’t just rich, she had authority over Crete. We had the roles wrong.”

(Not that Danny really wanted authority over Amity Park. That… just wasn’t his thing. He didn’t want to be in charge. He just wanted to protect.)

But this meant… He needed to find one of the New Athens kids and get them to be Theseus.

He didn’t want to do that. He was here to rescue them, not to force them to rescue themselves. And… iIf he could find one of them, couldn’t he find the others? Finding them was the problem he’d started with. If he could find them, he could bring them out.

He stumbled as the section of string wrapped around his throat tightened. That actually hurt!

Then it loosened and Danny took a deep breath.

Narrative weight, right. They were already trying this story. Changing it or aborting it halfway would have consequences. Ones that Danny didn’t want to deal with.

He swallowed. He couldn’t help but remember that in the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, many people, many Athenians, had died before Theseus had finally defeated the Minotaur. When it was Danny in the role of Theseus, that hadn’t been a concern. He was certain he could fight any monster, any ghost in the role of the Minotaur.

But some random kid from New Athens? One who had probably never seen a ghost, and who had been stuck here for days?

That… that he wasn’t at all confident about.

Sam had been right to be wary of the risks. It was different, when someone else was facing them.

He rolled the ball between his hands, feeling it over. Power thrummed between his fingers, brighter and sharper than before. A thin stripe of gold ran down the sidewalk, twisting over on itself and turning away from the main street.

Danny sighed, and started to follow.

Danica was starting to panic.

One moment, she’d been on the bus, falling asleep after a difficult meet despite how risky it was to fall asleep anywhere near Georgie and his so-called ‘artistic impulses.’ The next thing she knew, she was waking up on a sidewalk in some kind of nightmare city. A nightmare city full of things that looked almost like people but were transparent and walked right through her as if she weren’t there.

She didn’t know how long she’d been here, trying to figure out how she’d gotten here, where the bus was, where everything else was, but it felt like hours, at least. She was starting to get hungry.

She was starting to wonder if she’d gone crazy. Or if this was what it was like to be dead. And that was before the buildings started to melt into weird, semi-Greek-Revival messes.

It was weird here, and she hated it. She wanted to go home. She wanted her mom. She wanted to quit the track team and never have to deal with anything like this ever again.

“Hello?” called a soft voice.

She whipped around. Up until now, this place had been eerily quiet.

Standing just a few feet from her was a boy, one who could have stepped out of a history textbook. He was wearing something like a cape, and a Greek-style tunic, white trimmed in red. Tangled in his hair was a thin, golden circlet. But the strangest thing about him was the ball of glowing golden string in his hand. One end of it was wrapped around his neck.

“You–!” said Danica, suddenly more furious than frightened. “Did you bring me here? Why?”

The boy shook his head. “I didn’t bring you here. Actually, I’m hoping to help you get out. You and the rest of your teammates.”

“They– They’re here, too? And the coach–?”

“No, just your teammates,” said the boy. He made a face. “You guys kind of… Ran into a story.”

“A what?” demanded Danica, incredulous. She’d also, incidentally, started to back away from the boy.

“A story. Have you heard of Theseus and the Minotaur?”

“What if I don't want to do this?” asked the girl, after Danny had finished explaining. “What if I can’t do this?”

Danny stared at her, a bit baffled. The thing about being a ghost, even half a ghost, the thing about thinking like a ghost… Sometimes it was hard to wrap his head around other perspectives. Especially when his friends, the only people he really talked to, were just as eager to jump in and help as he was.

He hadn't wanted to make anyone risk themselves. He wanted to bring them to safety without that. He also hadn't expected that anyone would just… not want to help.

“Well, I suppose… I suppose you could follow me until I found one of your classmates who could?” he said. “Although… I’m not sure if we can do that with this story. It might be that I have to find someone alone and then they find everyone… In which case you’d just have to wait for them. Speaking of which, how long has this been for you? On the outside, it’s been a few days, but you look a little too good for that.”

“I– What? Days? I haven’t been here for days.”

“Not from your perspective, maybe. Time is weird. Even without all this…” He waved his hand, trying to indicate ghost weirdness in general. “... stuff, even with just the things we can look at scientifically, it’s still relative. Right now, you’re basically in a dimensional pocket. Pocket dimension? Whatever. The point is, is time running at different rates really that strange, comparatively? At least, it made it so that you didn’t starve before me and my friends were able to figure this out.” He raised the ball of golden string, ignoring how the movement pulled on his neck. “Right?”

The girl gave him a ‘why are you using science-fiction terms in what is clearly a fantasy scenario’ look. At least, that’s how Danny chose to interpret it.

He sighed. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Danica,” she said, then looked angry at herself and shrugged. “Or Dani, I guess.”

“Huh, small world,” said Danny. “That’s my sister’s name, too.” Not to mention his. Maybe Theseus’s story wasn’t the only one being echoed, with a coincidence like that.

The girl continued to stare at him, this time with a ‘why the heck are you bringing that up while I’m having a crisis’ look. Probably. Danny tended to make a similar expression from time to time. Usually when the ghosts he fought started having lovers’ quarrels in the middle of a fight.

“So,” he said, awkwardly. “You can come with me, of course, just to… test out what will happen?”

“Oh!” said Danica, suddenly. “Just– Just give me that!” She held out her hands for the ball of string.

Danny beamed, and passed it to her. It glowed even brighter.

“Now what?” she asked, staring at it nervously.

“Now, you need this,” Danny said, taking off the sword and holding it out to her, hilt first. “And then you search for your friends, and when you find them…” He pinched a length of the string between the finger and thumb of her free hand. “You follow this back out.”

Danica was much more reluctant to take the sword than the string. But that was fine. One of the two was for holding things together, the other was for taking things apart. Danny knew which was easier, and which he was more comfortable with.

“That's it. Remember, it's just the members of your track team, okay? The coach and the bus driver got out.”

“Okay,” said Danica. She took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay. I can do this.”

Danny nodded encouragingly. “Yes,” he said, “definitely.”

Danny stepped out of the in-between, back into the alley he'd left Sam and Tucker in. Except, it wasn't an alley anymore, but a thin dirt path between hedges.

He was immediately tackled.

“We thought we'd lost you!” said Sam. Then she pulled back and examined him closely before looking pointedly behind him. “Where're the track kids?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. In the story, Theseus is from Athens, remember?”

Sam groaned. “They're having to do it themselves?”

“Yeah. A girl named Danica. Dani. Believe it or not.”

“Wow,” said Tucker. “Really?”

“Really.”

Danny turned to look behind him, tracing the string where it twisted away from reality and into not-space.

Tucker sighed. “This is going to take a while, isn't it?”

It took Danica surprisingly little time to find her teammates. For all the time she’d spent wandering on her own, after she’d accepted the sword and the string, she’d located everyone in what felt like an hour. Some of them were even in groups!

The problem was, she found too many of them.

“Mm,” said Danny, still worried. “Probably. I hope she doesn’t have to fight anything.”

There had been fourteen of them. She knew there had been fourteen of them, because the coach and the driver had both done headcounts, because of the number of people they were allowed to field in each event at this particular meet, and because she remembered that someone had been sick. But there were, including her, fifteen kids now huddled in something that aesthetically hovered in-between the Parthenon and a shopping mall.

She couldn’t remember who had been sick. No one could. But everyone wanted to convince her that it wasn’t them.

Probably because she was the one with the sword.

“I think that if there was anything, it would have gone after Danny when he was searching earlier, right?” asked Sam.

“Maybe,” said Danny. “Unless it was scared of me. I am pretty powerful.”

“And if Danny’s Ariadne in this, he was Ariadne at the beginning,” pointed out Tucker. “The story was already going. Ariadne never fought the Minotaur.”

“Astarion,” said Danny.

“Huh?”

“That’s the Minotaur’s actual name,” said Sam. She frowned slightly. “He was Ariadne’s half-brother, you know.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, slowly. “He was, wasn’t he?”

“Listen,” said Danica, trying to mask the shake in her voice, “I’m sorry, but– But based on everything, you aren’t who you say you are.”

There was nothing she could do about how badly the sword was shaking.

“I am!” said the girl, who couldn’t be there, because Eliza had taken the one place in the 100 meter, and Jaylynn did the javelin, and Lachandra had done the high jump, and no one remembered her competing at all. “I really am, I promise!”

It was convincing, her act. But it had to be an act, it really did.

“Dani,” said Lachandra, “is it really that important? I mean, if we take her with us? We just want to get out.”

“But she could eat us,” said Kevin, who was a bit of a mythology buff on top of being a track nerd. “She could– If this is the Minotaur story– She’ll try to kill us and then–”

“I won’t!” shouted the girl. Her eyes– For a moment, they changed color. Red. Her teeth were sharp, too.

Danica gritted her teeth and swung the sword down.

Danny caught her wrist, panting. He’d followed the string back.

“Wait,” he said, breathless. “Wait.”

“Where–” said Danica, jerking back. “Why–?”

Danny turned towards the ‘Minotaur.’ “Hi,” he said, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. “You’re one of Vlad’s aren’t you?”

Their face shimmered for a moment, and then– It was like looking into a mirror. This wasn’t Dani - his Dani, Danielle - but a boy with red eyes. He wore a chiton like Danny’s, but he looked starved, pale, terrified.

He nodded.

“There is,” said Danny, cautiously, “another story about escaping from the labyrinth. How would you like to be Daedalus?”

“What was that?” hissed Danica, as they walked away from… whatever that was. “Why are you here, now, leading us out, when you couldn’t before?”

“Story is different now,” said Danny, tightly. “And I was leading you out before. Just with the string.”

“What if you get lost?” asked Kevin.

Danny grinned at him. “I won’t. He isn’t trying to keep you in anymore.”

“Who isn’t?” asked Danica.

“Daedalus. Him. He just wanted out, I think. Sorry for– I’m sorry about all of this,” said Danny. “I didn’t want to get other people involved in Amity Park stuff, and I especially didn’t want to get you involved in family stuff, but…” He shrugged, then caught sight of an out. It looked, from this side, like a slightly darker than expected gap between stately white pillars. “Here we go! And I think this one is next to the police station, too, so just, you know. Check yourselves in.”

“Just like that?” asked Danica.

“Just like that,” said Danny. “I will need those back, though.” He nodded at the string and sword.

“Right,” said Danica. She shoved both at him. “I can’t believe– I would have kill that– Whatever– Whoever–” She stopped, looking very much like she wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry,” said Danny again, softly. “But it is over now.”

The New Athens kids walked into the gap and vanished.

The string dissolved into golden, glittering light and then settled in his hands as a pair of equally golden wings. Danny laughed.

“Okay,” he said. He turned, bouncing a little. “I get the picture. I think we can avoid the Icarus problem, being ghosts and all.”

#danny phantom #holiday truce #holiday truce 2023

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lettersfromaphrodite · 1 year

Text

«it's high tide, baby.»

― pairing : Minho x fem!Reader ― content warnings : fantasy au, pirate au, angst with a happy ending, enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates (I know you saw it coming), isekai, LOTS of pop culture references (two aldo giovanni and giacomo’s references italian readers this is for you), magic au, mention of murder, mention of drowning, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all), fantasy au ― word count : 24k ― notes : I sure do hope you’ve read Chris’ merman fic because I’m feeding on my own lore // Ananke is meant as the greek goddess of fate // extra kudos to Black Desert for having an amazing map and kudos to me for using the videogame aesthetic because I don’t have enough creativity in me to come up with a fantasy world // I have one (1) fear and that's I'll keep adding more and more everytime I read this story because it's just so dear and precious to me // yes, yes "The Bitter Dahlia" is exactly the one mentioned in «Protect Me, My Aurora.»

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

― summary :

«I think I’ve never missed Cleo so much.» you quietly sniffled. «Your lover?» Minho questioned immediately. «My cat.» you clarified without hesitation.

“«Everything is over, now.» the Captain spoke in a confident voice, «I won’t let anyone else hurt you.» he added, before capturing his lover’s lip in a gentle kiss.” «Oh, holy fuck,» you blurted out as soon as you read that sentence, closing the book out of instinct, «holy shit, finally!» you added to yourself, almost closing the book out of excitement, completely aware about the fact that you were smiling like an idiot at no one but the now finished book in your lap but well, you couldn’t help yourself.

It was a book you’ve randomly found in the book-store next to your workplace, its cover had nothing special that immediately jumped to the eye: it was relegated in leather, some golden details that recalled the title written in beautiful handwriting. Actually, if you had to be completely honest, the detail that convinced you to buy it was the small golden stone embedded right under the title, instead of the actual plot – plot that in the end you came to adore.

«You are really lucky, this is the only copy that has been sent to us.» had said the old lady working there, making you furtherly curious and giving you another reason to buy it.

It was a love story, but it contained just the right amount of adventure as well. Christopher, a young, handsome and fearless pirate, was not only the Captain of the Golden Fleece – who was capable of intimidating anyone who saw its sails in the distance, but he had become the head of the entire commercial network that passed through all the known seas. Chris had at least 200 fleets under his command, each of them committing various raids in the name of their Captain - or some might say "the King of Pirates", and now was able to sail wherever he wanted without getting his hands dirty as he had done in the past.

During his adventures, he eventually fell in love with a girl – Leana, who was originally engaged with a navy’s soldier; after an awful lot of vicissitudes and obstacles in the path of their happiness, Christopher eventually stole her away – he’s a pirate after all, making her a member of his crew and finally allowing each other to live their so craved love story.

Of course, the Captain would have never made it alone; his seven long time friends had always been more than ready to help him and support him in every case of need.

Among his crew, you definitely had a personal favourite: Lee Minho, a young former bounty hunter enamoured with the feeling of freedom he felt while sailing that definitely made your heart race more than once. Not only he was described as handsome, with black raven hair that would almost always be tied up because he "hated the feeling of having hair in his face while being on deck" - but also not wanting to cut it short, a captivating and hypnotic gaze that let you wonder if you could reach the bottom of the sea if you ever took a dive into them, but he was also straightforward and sarcastic, a reason why Christopher found himself asking for Minho’s advice the most; despite his strong personality, he truly cared for his friends, and he considered them like a family. Chapter by chapter, you found yourself admiring his character so much that you anticipated every one of his appearances, eager to read more about him.

«Oh, Cleo, can you imagine a love like this?» you sighed dreamily, absently running your fingers through your cat’s thick fur, Cleo simply mewled at you, a faint noise that you interpreted as a proper answer, «or a life like this.» you added, your voice suddenly turning a little more hesitant, a little more lonelier. During the last few months, your life had fallen into an incredibly boring and obnoxious loop: go to work, finish your shift with an incredible amount of stress spreading through your body just to stop in order to buy groceries on your way home, see some friends once in a while, take care of your cat and repeat, repeat, repeat.

Of course, you would have felt a lot lonelier if it weren’t for Cleo: you found her sitting in front of your apartment complex on a random day two years ago and since then she started living with you, as if she had been expressively been waiting for you to find her that day.

«You always look angry, don’t you?» you cooed at her, hoisting her into your lap as to cuddle her a little closer. «Just like your mom.» you referred to yourself, shortly drowning your face in her soft fur, loudly smooching her a few times while adding some incomprehensible praises; Cleo mewled, as if she was exasperated at your behaviour and you quietly giggled, your soft laughter shifting into a sigh as your eyes fell on the book once again.

“I was really lucky to get the only copy of this,” you definitely had loved everything about the story, to the point to start fantasizing and wondering what could their next adventure be now that the crew gained a new very special member. Did Chris and Leana got married in an actual chapel or did they ask someone in their crew to randomly marry them just like Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner did? At the same time, what if they ended up recruiting more women? The thought of a stereotypical girls night on a pirate ship made you snort, but at least, Leana wouldn't have felt lonely, since living among men must have been boring at some point.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you ended up drifting off on your couch – still uncomfortably wearing your jeans, and therefore, you definitely could not notice about the strange events occurring as soon as sleep overcame your senses.

The book you were holding in your hand seemed to be woken up by a curious kind of magic, as the golden stone began to glow in a faint light; the book opened by itself just as if it possessed personal will, and its pages quickly turned back and forth by themselves, as if it was deciding which page to read first.

The book’s golden glow gradually seemed to shine brighter and brighter, and it eventually woke you up.

«What the-» you mumbled, confused, when you felt as if someone or something was harshly tugging at your soul and all of a sudden, you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore.

The book had closed once again, politely placing itself on your coffee table; the glowing had completely disappeared, and the golden stone returned to its original plain looking appearance.

However, in what has always been your home, all traces of your presence seemed to have vanished altogether.

Suddenly drowning was definitely not something you expected to happen on a Thursday evening, moreover, how could you be drowning when you’ve been reading on your couch until few seconds ago?

At first you thought of it as an extremely vivid dream, but as soon as you tried to breathe and water started to fill your lungs, you realized that your only priority was to get to the surface as soon as you could; thankfully, you were barely beneath the surface, so you managed to get your head out of the water soon enough, while finally breathing and coughing due to the salt water you had unintentionally swallowed.

«What the fuck?!» you shouted in disbelief, quickly glancing around yourself; first of all, judging by the sun burning up in the sky, it was the middle of the day, and moreover, everywhere you turned, you couldn’t see anything but water, except for an enormous galleon blocking part of your sight.

«Man at sea!» you heard many voices shout from its deck, and soon enough, a rope was thrown in your direction.

“What kind of rescue is this, where is the coast guard?” you thought to yourself as you swam towards the rope which was peacefully floating above the surface, unsure about how you were supposed to climb up there in the first place.

However, the answer to your thoughts came pretty fast, in the form of a boy dressed in typical piratesque clothes, urging you to grab his hand; you quickly pondered your options, and between dying from hypothermia caused by the cold water or probably being abducted and eventually killed by a boy with a strange taste in clothing, you considered the latter to be the safest.

«Everything’s fine now, don’t worry.» the boy reassured you with an unexpected friendly tone, and as soon as you locked eyes with him, your heart seemed to stop; his eyes were a deep shade of blue, while his hair, eyebrows and his eyelashes were as white as fresh snow.

Although you were completely certain that you’ve never met him before, you couldn’t help but wonder why his appearance was extremely familiar to you.

«Are you okay?» «How did you end up so far from land?» «She’s trembling like a leaf, poor soul.» «Let’s just throw her back in.» «Shut up, Minho, go fetch a blanket before she freezes to death.» «Can’t you see she looks shocked? Let her breathe!» «What in the bloody hell is she wearing?» The various voices overlapped in the exact moment in which you and the snow white boy had safely climbed on deck; however, everything you could do was to look around yourself in complete astonishment.

A large group of men was working on the ship, while only seven of them and a young girl were paying attention to your arrival; your eyes quickly took in both the strangers and your surroundings, and you definitely noticed that not only they were all dressed like pirates, but the ship seemed to be built exactly like one of those you generally saw in movies, historical re-enactments or museums.

«Oh no, roleplayers.» you whined in complete deject; they exchanged a confused glance among themselves, but eventually, only one of them spoke.

«I believe you’re confused, we’re pirates.» he clarified, and once again, his features seemed to be incredibly familiar, «I’m Chris, the Captain. She is Leana, my wife, and these are my friends.» you watched with dismay as Chris ended up naming his friends just like the characters of the novel you have been reading all afternoon.

«Oh holy shit, it’s even worse, cosplayers.» you nervously rubbed your eyes, shivering every now and then because of the wind mercilessly blowing on your soaked clothes.

«Poor thing, look at her!» Leana suddenly cooed, immediately rushing at your side and taking her jacket off in order to place it on your shoulders, «She’s freezing, let’s save the introductions for later, huh?»

«What if she’s a spy?» Jisung questioned, but his option was immediately silenced by Leana’s glare.

«In the middle of the ocean, Han?» she quickly retorted with sarcasm dripping from her tone, «What if it was mutiny?» she scoffed, gently pushing you to what seemed to be the Captain’s quarter, just to quickly make you sit in front of the small wood burning stove.

The following events seemed to happen in a confusing haze, you vividly remembered Leana commenting about her unfamiliarity with both the style and the fabric of your clothes as you allowed her both to undress you and to dress you up in fresh, warm clothes that belonged to her. Of course, now you were dressed like a pirate as well.

«What do you mean, you’re from Europe?» Chris had calmly repeated your words, «What kind of place is that?» you felt like crying out of frustration at his words. Under the Captain’s request Leanahad brought you into the ship’s interrogation room, and now you were sitting there, the whole room definitely smelling like blood – the strong scent more than enough to give you a headache, with nine pairs of eyes studying every single one of your moves.

«I don’t really feel like joking right now, I really want to go back home.» you repeated with a tired voice, not really understanding what was happening; it was like you had casually walked in the set of a movie, however, a terrifying feeling of dread creeping in your soul was suggesting you that there was definitely more to it. What if these people were real, and you had managed to shift inside the book you loved so much? No, that definitely couldn’t be the case, right?

«I don’t really feel like joking either, little lady,» in an impatient tone, Minho spoke out of the blue and quickly walked next to Chris, who was sitting in front of you at the other side of the table. If your heart picked up pace in happiness at the sight of your favourite character, it started hammering in your chest in pure dread as soon as Minho harshly planted his dagger in the wooden table, right in front of your folded hands. «next up is your tongue.»

«Nice work on terrifying her, Min Min.» Felix sarcastically commented his friend’s action, noticing how you started trembling once again, but this time everyone could easily figure out that it wasn’t because of the cold any longer.

«You cut her tongue, she can't talk, it's not that hard,» someone added, and if you weren't mistaken, he must have been Hyunjin, «see why I'm the one that usually handles the interrogation part?» he added with a sinister yet smug smile, and you had to force yourself to swallow that little bit of saliva you felt in your mouth, trying to avoid eye contact with both the pirates who were so casually talking about torture and interrogations.

«What if she drank too much sea water?» Seungmin chimed in, after he had been studying your behaviour with concern, «You know, in my medical books there are plenty of examples of people suffering from amnesia due to a huge amount of shock.» he suggested, and everyone seemed to consider that it could have been your case, with the only exception for Minho, who was staring at you with a look that you could swear that had probably killed someone at some point.

«We are currently sailing the Margoria Sea,» Chris spoke again, his voice a little kinder now that he had considered Seungmin’s suggestion, «and you’re on our pirate ship, the Golden Fleece.»

“Margoria,” you thought, “of course, in this universe, she's the goddess of the waves” you bit the inside of your cheek in frustration as you tried to convince yourself not to cry, recalling the exact moment the same goddess had been mentioned in the novel.

The more you thought about it, the more the surreal possibility of you shifting inside a book seemed to be the only possible answer to your list of infinite questions, especially because if those people really were cosplayers or actors, they would have eventually broken their act due to seeing you in the verge of having a panic attack. Moreover, the author had always been extremely descriptive in every single detail of the story, and therefore you found it a little bit too much of a strange coincidence for these people to naturally have the same somatic traits as the characters you had just finished reading about. It was undeniable that the people standing in front of you were the stark copy of the ones described in the book.

Few hours later, Chris’ authoritative voice filled the Captain’s quarters, and your eyes eagerly wandered through the room; you’ve read about this moment a lot of times, Chris would summon his long time friends in his quarters and they’d discuss what to do because he valued their opinion as if it was his own.

«Just, what is she doing there?» Minho spoke suddenly, clearly referring to your presence in the quarters; due to your first meeting, you were extremely wary about meeting his gaze, let alone the possibility of crossing his path by accident.

Actually, it’s not like destiny was working in your favour, since you were nervously standing in front of the wooden wall and next to Minho. Everything about your body language exposed how nervous you were about it: your arms were crossed in front of your chest, and you kept your legs spread just a tiny bit – enough to have a slight chance to attempt to sprint away if he randomly started to chase you in order to throw you off the deck.

«I swear Chris entrusted her to me literally two seconds ago,» Felix replied, eagerly waving his hand as if it could make his point even clearer, «pay attention when the Captain is speaking!» he snapped his fingers, admonished his friend, and you found yourself exhale the faintest trace of the hint of a brief laughter through your nose.

However, much to your dismay, you quickly realized that Minho’s hearing must have been otherworldly, since the barely audible noise you made did not go unnoticed by his ears, consequently making your face turn blank as soon as you felt his gaze burning into the side of your head. Hesitantly, you slowly turned your head to your right, confirming that Minho was most definitely staring at you; out of reflex, you immediately looked away, just to glance back at him for a short second.

Minho, who had been staring at you, secretly pleased about the fact that you seemed scared enough not to try some stupid tricks on them, shortly uncrossed his arms from the front of his chest, just to slightly lean towards you: he quickly mimicked the gesture of grabbing something with his hands, while mimicking a bite with his mouth at the same time. Instinctively, you rapidly tilted your head back as you followed your survival instinct, but you heavily slammed your head against the wooden wall behind you.

«Ow!» you winced in pain, grabbing the back of your head with both hands; you were certain that the impact you just felt was more than enough to give you a headache for days, and still, despite Leana immediately rushed at your side to see if you were okay, and despite the fact that you were crouching on the floor massaging your head, Minho kept his original position, staring in front of him as if nothing had happened.

Seungmin was right behind Leana, attentively cradling your head to see if you actually managed to hurt yourself; unbeknownst to you, Seungmin was actually holding back an amused laughter, since it has definitely been a while since he met someone as clumsy as you.

A couple of days later almost everyone seemed to have accepted you as a new entry of the crew; actually, you considered yourself lucky since most of the pirates on board seemed to not even notice your presence. Of course, you ended up going along with the amnesia excuse because the whole “you look like you all popped up from a book I’ve been reading and I’m trying to understand if I’m having a very vivid dream or I ended up shifting on accident but I actually didn’t really mean it and now I want to go back.” would have been definitely too troublesome to explain. Most importantly, you didn’t feel ready to process what could have happened to you but also, you didn’t want to face the realization that you had suddenly appeared in the middle of nowhere, without a real possibility to get back home safely.

Honestly you were pretty much useless on a pirate ship, and therefore you ended up in the kitchen, either helping Felix and the other cooks in their task of preparing the food or just cleaning and preparing the room where the pirates formed small groups and took turns to have their meals.

If the truth was that you really ended up in a novel, you had to admit that everyone beside Minho acted accordingly to their character. Chris and Leana acted as two lovebirds, completely smitten with each other; you rarely saw them – let’s guess why, but they overall seemed to act friendly towards you. Leana had eagerly helped you decorate the room that had been assigned to you, it was a little small and right next to the storage room – the window was wide enough for you to escape just in case, but it was perfectly okay to you, since you were hoping that you wouldn’t have to remain on the ship for too long.

Since Leana seemed to trust you, so did Chris; despite the fact that you’ve interacted only a handful of times, he seemed as reliable as he had been portrayed in the novel.

Felix and Seungmin were definitely the ones you’ve seen the most. Felix was literally acting as your keeper, paying attention to you as if he was a concerned older brother and not someone who you had met few days earlier. Still, you could expect this from him, since he had always been described as the kindest one out of their group – beside Jeongin.

Seungmin had examined your head a concerning amount of times by now, if you were to ask him; actually, he had quickly realized that you were pretending to have headaches only when Minho was around, and he simply got along with it. He treated you with respect, even if he seemed to be a little wary of your presence. «Let’s hope you can get your memories back soon,» he would say, «so that you can return home safely.» you never answered, his words always making your heart tighten as a reflexive answer.

Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin were almost always nowhere to be seen; thanks to the author you knew that they had a gambling addiction, however, the only times you saw them they were joined by the hips, always joking around with each other – and Minho, always looking too busy to pay too much attention to you.

Jeongin was basically the miniature version of Chris: you knew that the Captain had saved him when he was still a little kid, and since then Jeongin had always followed Chris’ lead. He was the one that seemed to respect you the most, he was also absolutely certain that you must have been a Princess of a faraway land. «I’m really no one.» you would answer every time with an apologetic smile, earning a sad pout from the younger boy.

Minho, however, was openly against the idea of keeping you on board, and often suggested to throw you off the deck as soon as you started being too annoying. You couldn’t understand why he was so mean to you, and you weren’t definitely the only one to notice; more than once, the others had admonished his behaviour, reiterating the fact that he should have been a little bit nicer to you, especially after what you have been through.

«That’s exactly the point, Chris, we don’t know! She could be a siren or just a lunatic witch,» you overheard him argue with the Captain one day, «face it, if that were the case, no one would be immune to her spells, not even your beloved wife.» your hands instinctively clenched on the broomstick you were holding to sweep the floor of the corridors, and your gaze was lost somewhere in the wooden floor.

«She might as well be telling the truth,» you heard Chris answer in his usual calm tone, «I don’t want to deny her a shelter just because she lost her memories, because that sure wasn’t her fault.»

«What are we listening to?» Changbin’s voice right next to your ear almost made you jump out of your skin due to the sudden fright; his eyes widened in stupor as you almost dropped your hold on your broomstick – thing which would have definitely expose the fact that you were overhearing a very secret conversation. Luckily, Changbin’s reflexes were drastically quicker than yours, and so he collected the broomstick just in time, before handing it to you once again with an amused smirk. He placed his ear against the door, quickly connecting the animated argument to your sad expression and he gently smiled to you in an unexpected friendly manner.

«Don't worry too much about it, Ace, he’ll come around.» Changbin briefly stated before walking away, heading back towards the deck at the end of the corridor without uttering another word; you shortly stood there, speechless, staring at his withering shoulders as his silhouette gradually disappeared in the light coming from outside.

“What the hell?” you thought, incredulous: Changbin had barely spoken to you and now he decided to give you a random and most definitely sarcastic nickname and offer you words of comfort, all of a sudden?

“Something bad is definitely gonna happen,” you quickly deduced, going back to your original task; you were about to start sweeping the floor once again, before an ominous aura seemed to fill the packed space of the corridor.

“There it is,” you announced to yourself, refusing to turn around to confirm the suspicion that Minho had left Chris’ chambers, “oh, divine Xena, mighty princess forged in the heat of battle,please help me with this one,” you instinctively moved out of inertia, backing towards the nearest wall as Minho was walking towards your frame.

“Here we go, it’s him!” you dramatically thought, hugging the broomstick to your chest as if your life depended on it, the only shield between you and Minho, who was standing in front of you with his usual furious stare that magically seemed to disappear as soon as his eyes diverted from your general direction.

«I don’t know what you did to have everyone wrapped around your little finger, but that’s not gonna work with me, princess.» Minho spoke with a harsh tone, cornering you against the wall by placing his left hand next to your head; silence fell between the two of you, and you instinctively clenched your fists around the broomstick, just to be able to attempt to defend yourself in some kind of way.

Could you do self defence while using a broom? Of course. Could you defend yourself against Minho, judging the sheer force he used to plant a dagger in a thick wooden table? Of course not.

Minho spent few seconds studying your face with incredible attention, as if, if he stared hard enough, you would transform into a whole different creature, confirming his theories about you. However, Minho momentarily seemed to have forgotten the concept of personal space, because his nose brushed against yours at least twice as you were doing your best to avoid his piercing gaze.

«Now that I take a closer look, you’re definitely not as pretty as a siren.» he suddenly stated with a sly grin while raising his eyebrow, before detaching from you altogether, just to walk towards the deck’s direction.

«And you had to almost kiss me to find out?» you yelled back a little louder than intended as soon as he was at a reasonable distance; to say that you were outraged was an understatement, you were furious.

To think Minho was your favourite character when you were reading the novel, what were you, crazy?

Despite the fact that you were genuinely doing your best to avoid meeting Minho, the pirate was clearly doing the opposite, neutralizing every single one of your good purposes as the two of you seemed to keep running into each other. It didn’t matter whether you were simply doing your assigned chores or you were peacefully chatting with one of the pirates, he always seemed to find something to do in order to get on your nerves; sometimes he would just accidentally knock random things off the table so that you had to pick them up and clean them again, other times he would interrupt a conversation just to be mean at you.

Minho was definitely getting on your nerves, but you did your best not to pay too much attention to him, since you definitely had more important things to think about. Inside your heart, the growing feeling of homesickness was constantly calling for your attention; you often found yourself on the verge of tears, but it was a side of you that you were determined not to show to anyone, thing that lead you to cry yourself to sleep more than once.

The part of the crew assigned to the kitchen, of course, always had their meal before the others did, and more than once it led to your small group of friend to join, and today was not exception. Walking out of the kitchen, you saw Minho, Jeongin, Chris, Jisung and Seungmin sitting at one of the long tables in the room while eating and loudly chatting, and now that Jeongin was hastily and eagerly waving his arm to let you know that you should have sat next to him to have your quick lunch, you realized that yet another time, you couldn’t escape your fate of avoiding Minho as if he was the plague.

«May I, uh...» you walked next to Leana, who was walking towards their table as well; she immediately tilted her head towards you, listening, «May I approach the bitch?» she bursted out laughing really loudly, immediately understanding that you were talking about Minho; however, that happy and hilarious bubble of joy disappeared the same moment you heard Hyunjin’s voice right behind the both of you.

«What did you say?» never did the simple request to repeat something seem more dangerous; you swallowed, feeling your blood turn cold in the same moment the flashback of him mentioning his “interrogation habits” popped into your mind. However, the few weeks you spent living among pirates were teaching you how to build up your courage – or more like “fake it until you make it”, as someone would say.

«I said “may I approach the bench”,» you answered, pretending to be annoyed with the useless repetition of your sentence, nodding towards the long benches that you were using instead of chairs, «what did you think I said?»

The crew was incredibly hungry that day, you could easily tell from the speed at which they ate and the various groups took turns, thing that didn’t give you much occasion to chat with them as you often did; instead, you were frantically walking back and forth from the kitchen, helping two other pirates to deliver food to everyone.

“Maybe if I find a similar book I can get home,” you thought as you absently piled the dirty and empty plates on top of each other before carrying them to the kitchen, just to come back with clean ones, “where am I supposed to find a book in the open sea?” you sighed in deject, not liking the direction of your thoughts.

«I think you missed a spot, princess.» Minho’s arrogant tone caught your attention, and you watched with total unbewildrement the pirate hit the side of one of the wooden jugs placed on the tables, knocking it to the ground and spilling the water on the floor.

As if you were under a magic spell, all the traces of sadness seemed to vanish from your soul, just to be replaced by sheer anger; you were beyond furious, how dare he? He didn’t trust you, and you could understand his point of view; it pained you to admit to yourself that if you were in his shoes, you would have probably done the same. However, you could endure the teasing, you could endure everything he was putting you through but you definitely drew the line at this kind of disrespect. You closed your fist so tightly that you were absolutely sure that your fingertips would feel momentarily numb as soon as you tried to open your hands, and you were certain that your nails were digging a half crescent moon shape in your skin.

However, you and Minho were not the only one left in the room; Hyunjin, Changbin, Chris and few other crew members were not finished eating and therefore, they saw all the scene unfolding.

«Hey, fuck face!» you loudly called out, claiming both Minho and the other’s attention, «I get you feel powerful because you can swing a fucking sword, but you should learn to respect people who are working!» you stood your grounds, ignoring your heart wildly hammering in your chest and the nervousness you felt as soon as Minho stopped walking, just to turn towards you.

«You’re that interested in losing your head, huh?» Minho replied with an undecipherable gaze, quickly walking back towards you.

If there was a god out there, you were certain that they must have glanced towards your direction in that same moment, because right before Minho could close the distance between the two of you, Changbin’s shoulders appeared in your field of view.

«Calm down, buddy,» Changbin was still peacefully chewing on his food as he stopped him, placing a hand on the pirate’s chest, who tilted his head just enough to keep furiously glance at you.

«If we were still home, I would have get you arrested!» you spat, your chest tightening at the thought of your home town but also incredibly thankful to Changbin.

«Again with those stories? You sure do have flowers growing in your head, princess!» Minho immediately answered, trying to walk around Changbin, who was still pushing against his chest.

However, what no one actually expected was for you to actually try to confront Minho from up close, attempting to walk around Changbin as well; honestly, you were too furious to notice that you were about to face a pirate while completely unarmed and not knowing how to fight.

«Easy there,» Hyunjin suddenly spoke with amusement from behind your shoulders, placing his arms under your armpits just to stop you and hold you back.

«Say that to him, not to me!» you tried to free yourself without success; Hyunjin was very strong despite his slim figure and therefore, even when you kicked both your legs in the air while urging him to let you go, he didn’t move the slightest.

«Don’t you think this is the kind of energy we need on board, Binnie?» Hyunjin laughed, eagerly chatting as he had no trouble holding you back; Changbin scoffed a laugh as well, since it’s been a while since he saw Minho getting riled up that easily.

«That’s enough,» Chris’ authoritative voice seemed to be the only thing that could calm the atmosphere; «you, go back to your room.» he told you in a scolding tone.

«What?!» you whined, «I didn’t do anything!» you added, trying to wiggle out of Hyunjin’s hold once again.

«Don’t challenge my authority,» Chris shortly admonished you, his stern gaze not leaving any room to debate his decision, before turning his attention towards Minho, «you’re going to your room as well.»

«What?!» Minho asked in astonishment, not believing his Captain’s orders.

«I don’t want to see the two of you on deck until at least tomorrow morning.» Chris added, and that was your call to understand that the argument was officially over.

Hyunjin had offered to accompany you to your room, and as soon as you were about to walk out the door, you slightly turned towards Minho: you placed your index finger on your lower eyelid, tugging on the skin as you shortly sticked out your tongue as well. Still, you immediately turned around, so that you couldn’t see Changbin struggling not to laugh, reaching out to stop Minho once again, who was glancing at him with a murderous look.

“I want to go home,” you whined to yourself as soon as you were sitting on your bed once again; you laid down on your back, missing the sensation of Cleo immediately walking up and cuddle at your side. You wondered what happened back home, even though you were certain that your cat had found a way out of your apartment, since the window was still open when you had fallen asleep, however, what about your friends? Was someone worried about your sudden disappearance? Moreover, judging by the amount of days that had passed, you had most definitely lost your job.

«Ah, I hope they choose a nice pic of me if I made it to the news as a missing person.» you mumbled to yourself, your gaze lost in the wooden tiles of your ceiling.

“I could draw tiny lines on the wall to count the days I’m spending on here,” the sudden idea popped up in your mind, only for you to abandon it as quickly as it came. First of all, you didn’t have a knife – let alone a dagger or a sword, and therefore it would be impossible for you to engrave marks in the wall, most importantly, what if they found out and you had to repay for the things you’ve damaged? Those were the basic things happening back home, and although you were unsure about various dynamics of the world you were in, you didn’t want to try your luck. Chris looked scary while pissed off, and you read about how cruel he could be, you definitely needed him on your side.

“I could try to run away as soon as we reach the first port,” you wondered, but that option was discarded as well; although touching land was the only thing to confirm the shifting theory, you didn’t know what could have happened if it was the truth. Abduction and prostitution were sadly pretty much real in that world as well, and once again, you decided that the safest option was to stick around Chris and his crew; after all, what could harm you if he was in charge of basically everything and everyone sailing above the water’s surface?

Minho’s menacious glare appeared in your mind, and you reached out to grab the pillow from under your neck just to slam it against your face, “it’s not like I can throw a meteor at him, I’m not Zhongli,”, you thought, before suddenly sitting up in bed. «Who’s going to do my daily commissions in Genshin Impact now?!» you mumbled to yourself, thinking about all the time you’ve spent playing – time that of course had been wasted due to what happened.

Someone knocked on your door, and you genuinely wondered about pretending to be asleep in order to avoid giving explanation about what happened at dinner; nevertheless, you allowed the person in.

«Hi there,» Felix greeted with his usual cheerful tone, «I heard you caused quite a riot today.» he added, placing a small tray with a glass of water and a plate of stew on the small table next to your bed; you sighed, falling back to the bed and hoping that those blankets could swallow your frame and teleport you back home.

«I didn’t do anything, Felix,» you clarified, «Minho just hates me for no reason.» «Well..» «Please, don’t tell me this is the part where you say things like “he hasn’t always been like this”, or something.» you immediately added, preventing him from talking any further.

«Nah, he’s always been like this.» Felix quickly shook his head, sitting on the small mattress and next to your knees; he tapped your thigh twice, telling you to sit up so that you could eat dinner. «Keep up that attitude though, it’s funny to watch.» he chuckled, his face quietly shifting into a concerned frown as he noticed how you kept playing with your food instead of actually eating it.

Maybe from the outside your interactions with Minho were unusual enough to be considered funny, but to you they were incredibly stressful.

First of all, Minho had always been your favourite character, and you would have never imagined that he could despise your presence so much; most importantly, he had always been described as a whole different person, and you found yourself wondering why you wanted to be accepted by him so much. You were aware that late at night the dining room became the meeting point where some pirates gathered to drink and gamble, both because you had read it in the novel and because some sleepless nights you had passed in front of its door as you were walking towards the deck, hearing the echo of thunderous laughter or the loud chatter of the ones who lost and were unhappy with the rules. Sometimes the door wasn’t even completely close, and as you peeked inside on your way through the corridor, you could see Minho joke around and laugh with the others, thing that always made you feel sad and somehow, lonely.

«Aren’t you hungry?» Felix gently asked, noticing how you went silent all of a sudden. «It’s not that funny, though: he acts like I’m going to annihilate everyone while you sleep and well – he basically adores you.» you ignored his question, instead referring to the fact that he was the only one he didn’t threaten to kill anytime Lix called him “Min Min”.

«I’ll tell you a super secret secret,» Felix started to whisper, and you shifted your gaze on his lips, making sure that you could effectively understand what he was about to say, «me and Minho are half brothers.»

«What?!» you immediately shrieked out of disbelief, that was never mentioned in the novel! You clearly recalled their background stories: Minho was a bounty hunter, while Felix was… Felix… Well, he was…

“Now that I think of it, Felix’s past hasn’t been mentioned, not even once.” your questioning gaze met Felix, who eagerly nodded at the silent questions in your eyes.

«Our mother remarried,» he explained, before interrupting himself, «now that I think of it, mom and Minho’s father weren’t married – well, that’s not important.» Felix dismissively waved his hand in front of himself, and for the next hour, you had eventually started eating as you listened to his stories about him and Minho; despite all the times you wanted to clarify that “yes, I already know this part,” you kept silent, smiling at Felix’s eagerness and at the affection towards his brother that you could feel through his words.

«He’s really amazing,» he praised, «he’s always protected me since we were kids – you know, my… hair colour is a bit unusual.» he admitted, recalling the times when Minho would come home covered in bruises because he had protected Felix from being bullied.

«It’s beautiful, though,» you immediately replied, making Felix widen his eyes in sudden surprise, «you look like you've walked out of a fairy tale... and really, it suits you.» you added, making the pirate smile with a sad smile.

«I often said I could dye it, but Minho was always against the idea.» he said, but your attention was focused elsewhere.

“So, hair dye exist in this world as well?” the gears in your brain started to spin and twirl as you thought; once again, it had never been mentioned in the novel, but you thought that the author didn’t need to, since the story revolved around Chris’ point of view.

«Get some rest, princess,» Felix excused himself, collecting the now empty tray as he stood up; you nodded, the side of your lips curling into a small smile at how different the nickname sounded as it was spoken by the two brothers, «I’ll try to talk to him.» he reassured, and for a second, you decided to believe him.

Much to your dismay, nothing had changed after a week, leaving you to your usual routine; however, you had to admit that you barely saw Minho around, and when you did, you adverted your gaze before he could meet yours. It was as if, unlike the first days, he was keeping his distance as well, and you were grateful to Felix for it. “If you can’t defeat them, become their friend, some said!” you thought, “well, I failed miserably.”

Felix was now basically what you could call your best friend, as he had declared more than once; he always insisted for you to sit next to him when you were eating, and once you were finished with your daily chores, he would explain the most random things to you. Actually, you were incredibly grateful to him because you were finally able to tie a knot on a rope, thing which would have come handy if you ever decided to escape.

Most importantly, you and Felix had something really particular in common, and that was your admiration towards Chris’ and Leana’s relationship. The poor couple could have been simply standing in front of each other talking about the most random things and you would say something like «they’re so pretty I could punch myself in the face,» immediately echoed by Felix that would reply «wait for it, he’s gonna move a strand of hair behind her ear because of the wind,» and the both of you would dreamily coo at them as Chris did exactly what Felix had predicted.

Seungmin was still visiting you every now and then – mostly when you pretended that your head hurt because you saw Minho appearing out of nowhere and he was definitely too close for comfort, but nonetheless he spent most of his days in his study.

Jeongin was mostly spending his time with Seungmin, now, the older pirate insisting that he needed an assistant because he was tired to everything on his own, and Jeongin eagerly following his orders.

Jisung, Changbin and Hyunjin were now seeing you in a whole different light: the day you fearlessly challenged Minho seemed to have made you earn their respect, and they often tried to lure you into joining a gamble match with them. «Thanks, but I don’t know the rules,» you dismissively answered every time, and as soon as one of them suggested they could teach you, you immediately added that you didn’t have anything valuable you could gamble on.

Leana was more or less, an addiction to the piece of furniture in your small room; anytime she wasn’t with Chris, she would keep you company, telling you about the most various and dangerous adventures they have lived while sailing. You eagerly listened to her, often interrupting her to ask for more details, thing that she never seemed to mind, answering your question with the same eagerness. Leana’s stories were a perfect indicator for you to deduce that between what happened in the book and your arrival on the ship, at least three years seemed to have passed; years in which Chris’ domain on the sea had become even more clear.

«It’s like being on of those cruise ships; no one dares attacking us and we can do whatever we want to, I love it.» she confessed, voicing her hopes about you liking being on board as well; you didn’t trust yourself, and therefore you simply nodded.

«Come on, girls night,» Leana had announced one day as she sat on your bed, and you furrowed your eyebrows in obvious reluctance, familiar with the concept of her words; «has anyone caught your eye?» Leana’s eyes seemed to glimmer in curiosity, and you found yourself sigh in deject.

«Yes, I mean, no.» you spoke, unclear, confusing yourself as well. What were you supposed to say? You’ve never looked at anyone under that particular light, after all!

“Well, actually…” you immediately stopped the train of your thoughts: Minho was undoubtedly charming and handsome, but he was behaving like a complete jerk towards you, and therefore you sighed, resigning yourself to your fate as you met Leana’s curious gaze.

«Minho is cute, but don’t tell him I said so, I particularly like my head attached to my neck.» you confessed, panicking as you saw her eyes widen in disbelief.

«I would have bet money on Felix!» she yelled, just to lower her voice mid-sentence, staring at you in complete astonishment.

«Felix is really cute, but everything’s really very… platonic.» you explained, avoiding saying something she would have found too weird and incomprehensible like “he’s always nice andhe gives me really good vibes!”

However, Leana seemed to ponder your words about Minho, confessing that one morning, she saw Felix and Minho talking very animately, as if they were arguing about something. «Now that I think about it, it was the morning after you’ve been both confined to your room.» she added, and she confirmed as well the fact that the pirate seemed to been avoiding your presence as well.

Leana had soon returned to the Captain’s quarters, leaving you in the loneliness of your room; once again, you couldn’t sleep and therefore, you found yourself headed towards the deck of the Golden Fleece.

The night sky was clear, the stars seemed a bright blanket that made you feel a tiny bit less lonelier; you tried to smile at the thought that in your life, you had never seen so many stars due to the industrialization and the fact that there was always a source of light around the city. On your way to the deck you ended up both carrying one of the blankets in your room and stealing an apple from the storage room, and in the end you were sitting alone in a dark corner of the ship, completely hidden from the helmsman’s eyes and from the few pirates who were awake and in charge of taking care of the ship as long as the others were asleep – or gambling.

As your gaze lost itself in the darkness ahead of you, your thoughts inevitably wandered to dangerous places, and you found yourself silently crying because you missed home. Although in the past days you have done your best to avoid even the faintest traces of intrusive thoughts, it was probably time to face the truth; even though it seemed impossible, you ended up in a fantasy novel, and of course the historical period was completely different from the one you were living in, to the point of not having the comforts you were used to have in your everyday life. A phone, internet, a hairdryer, heating, a microwave… Despite the fact that you were slowly getting used to this kind of life, you madly wanted to go back home, and the thing that completely broke your heart was the fact that you highly doubted it would even be remotely possible. After all, the lady at the bookshop had clearly said that you bought the only copy of the novel, copy which was currently still on your coffee table in another dimension.

Completely engrossed in your crying session, you didn’t notice that someone had approached your trembling figure.

«See? I didn’t lie when I said you were probably a thief.» Minho’s voice shook you out of your train of thoughts, but you weren’t in the right mind to answer to his constant teasing; you stared both at him and the apple in your hand – apple that you ended up biting only once, just to wordlessly focus your gaze once again on the darkness in front of the ship.

The moon was high up in the sky, and Minho could definitely see the fact that you were crying, especially because you weren’t doing a good job to hide your occasional hiccups; he has never seen you so vulnerable, after all you’ve been arguing like dog and cat since the day they had saved you, but yet, he breathed a long sigh, before eventually walking closer to you, crouching down so that you were more or less at the same eye-level.

«Are you okay?» Minho questioned, every trace of hostility suddenly disappearing from his voice, and he saw you simply shook your head because no, you were definitely not okay. «Can I sit next to you?» he asked again, and waited for you to answer before he dared to move.

«Why, so you can throw me off deck as soon as I cry too loudly?» you spat with annoyance, and Minho scoffed as a silent answer. If he were to be honest, he wasn’t doing it for you, but for Felix; his brother had constantly told him to give you a chance, but the pirate kept ignoring him; however, for some weird reason he didn’t want to think about, the sight of you curled up against the wall just to cry your eyes out didn’t please him as he originally thought. «Yeah, something like that.» Minho shrugged, before sitting next to you. A somewhat comfortable silence fell on the corner you had been secretly occupying, a silence made of you occasionally hiccuping trying to hide a sob just to wipe your tears with part of your blanket and Minho completely silence as his brain tried to come up with a reasonable question about why you seemed so unconsolable.

«Has something happened in the kitchen? Did Felix say something bad?» Minho gently tried, even if he doubted that was the case, since Felix was the first among the people who seemed to be completely smitten with your presence; confirming his thoughts, he saw you shook your head without voicing an actual answer.

«Have you been having nightmares?» he questioned again, his left hand hesitantly scratching his left thigh; «it happens a lot, especially the first times you sail.» again, you wordlessly shook your head, and silence fell once again.

It went on for minutes, Minho coming up with the most various questions and you simply shaking your head because he never got it right.

«I miss my hairdryer.» you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

«Your… your what?» Minho quietly echoed, confusion dripping from his voice.

«My hairdryer,» you repeated, moving your right hand in the air just to mimic a general shape of one, «it’s made like this, and we use it to blow hot hair on our hair to make it dry faster, it works with electric – oh, never mind, you already think I’m a lunatic witch.» your voice trembled at the end of the sentence, and you ended up wiping more tears escaping the corner of your eyes, as Minho was staring at you with an indecipherable gaze.

«Tell me more,» he gently spoke – almost in a hesitant way, urging you to go on, «about your crazy stories, I want to hear more.»

«And give you extra reasons to make fun of me on a daily basis? No, thank you.» you bitterly answered, and Minho’s gentle smile slowly vanished from his lips. The pirate kept studying your features, pensive, and few seconds later his right hand was hovering in front of your face, his pinky finger outstretched.

«I won’t, I promise. I call truce.» he said, and for the first time you turned your head to glance at him, unconsciously smiling at the sight of a pirate using pinky promises as a way to seal official promises; it was as if you could feel your heart tremble, the sight of the Minho you used to adore while reading your favourite book was suddenly not that unreachable anymore, and something in his determined gaze illuminated by the moon made you trust him.

Unbeknownst to you, while intertwining your pinky finger with his, a little part of your fate had changed forever.

«I think I’ve never missed Cleo so much.» you quietly sniffled. «Your lover?» Minho questioned immediately. «My cat.» you clarified without hesitation.

Eventually, you and Minho shortly ended up bonding over your mutual love for cats. You described her to him, explaining that to you, she was indeed unique and beautiful; her black fur was occasionally painted with ginger spots, and her eyes were a light shade of green.

«She always looked incredibly pissed off, just like me.» you scoffed a laugh, and you heard Minho chuckle softly at your words.

«To think you were going to face me without a weapon, you sure do have some guts,» he commented, and you answered with an exasperated sigh, «you could ask Jisung to teach you a trick or two.» your head immediately turned towards him at the unexpected suggestion. Minho simply shrugged, explaining that you would be more useful on deck if something were to happen.

«I used to have three cats before I choose to sail with Chris.» he admitted then, changing the topic of your conversation, smiling to himself.

«I know.» you answered without thinking about it too much; only when you felt Minho’s inquisitive stare on your face, you panicked. Clearly you couldn’t tell him that you knew a lot of details about his life before he started being a pirate because you read it in a novel, and therefore you simply settled for a simple white lie known as: «Felix told me about it.»

«I miss my hair conditioner as well,» you admitted, «I even got the special edition with keratin – you know with the golden plastic jar and everything, and never got to use it more than twice.» for at least half of the night, you ended up explaining Minho every detail of what life was like where you were living; skyscrapers, air conditioning, electricity, supermarkets, videogames and malls, along with every kind of food you ended up craving, Minho had patiently listened to your rambles, occasionally asking about few clarifications every now and then.

«You know, princess, I still think you have flowers growing in your head.» Minho spoke after the two of you eventually managed to finish conversation topics; your heart sank to your stomach at his words, and of course, you felt like crying again.

«However…» Minho spoke again, his tone a little more firmer than before, as if he understood that his words hurt you, «your stories are a bit too much filled with details to be completely made up.»

«So?» you questioned him, glancing at him while leaning your head against the wooden surface behind your shoulders.

«So,» Minho echoed, mirroring your actions, so that you were staring at each other, «I think that somewhere in that flower field, there’s a little bit of truth.» a relieved smile erupted on your features, and you felt genuinely happy about the fact that finally Minho decided to take you seriously.

Despite the fact that you had managed to calm down, neither of you dared to move, and as you kept talking about your life, you ended up sharing your blanket with the pirate, whose hands were now as cold as ice.

Somewhere during the few hours remaining before dawn, you ended up falling asleep, unconsciously leaning against Minho’s shoulders, who didn’t move in order not to wake you up. However, as soon as the pirate saw a small glimpse of light starting to illuminate the sky as a signal of a new day, he gently picked you up just to carry you to your bedroom.

«Fucking finally, Min Min,» Felix’s groggy whisper called out from Minho’s shoulders; the younger had just woken up, and to be honest, he was convinced about being still asleep as the first thing he saw were his brother – who claimed to hate you, carrying you – who claimed to hate him, bridal style and soundly asleep towards your room. «Not a word, Lix.» Minho had simply answered, not bothering to stop.

Few days later, everyone was aware about the drastic change of Minho’s behaviour towards you, since the pirate went to completely ignore your presence to greet you occasionally. You found yourself smiling anytime it happened, your smile vanishing as soon as you could feel two different set of piercing gazes on your face; on one side, Leana was looking at you with pure excitement in her eyes, as to say «did you see it?» while on the other side, Felix was following the scene with a knowing smile, happy about his brother’s eventual change of heart.

Moreover, you had to admit to yourself that your mood was significantly better since you didn’t have to constantly watch your back, to the point where you found yourself thinking that if things kept going like this, you could have definitely got used to this new life. To be completely honest, you could already picture yourself trying to introduce some of your modern technology into this world, becoming the cliché mad scientist holed up in her laboratory, shouting a loud «it could work!» followed by a manic laughter as soon as you managed to create something useful.

Taking a small break from your daily chores, you decided to take a stroll on deck, enjoying what seemed to be the last days of summer; the days had already begun to shorten and in the back of your mind, you wondered how cold could it get on a pirate ship during winter, but you weren’t sure you wanted to know an actual answer, when out the corner of you eye, you saw them.

At first, you thought that either your mind was playing tricks on you or you were hallucinating, but once you turned your complete attention to the sea, you distinctly saw that there was a small group formed by seven girls not too far from where you were, casually sitting on some random pieces of wood – most definitely what remained of a sunken ship, while brushing their luscious hair; you narrowed your eyes as if trying to get a better view, because you could swear that all of them had a long fish tail.

“Mermaids?” you wondered; after all, you didn’t know how this world worked in the first place, and based on Minho’s accusations to you, for all you knew, they could be more than a superstition.

«Sirens!» the loud shout from the crow’s nest seemed to alert everyone, confirming that you weren’t hallucinating, but you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do in this situation; you saw some pirates running back to their quarters, as if it was a desperate attempt not to be lured by their voices.

Few minutes later, the situation was definitely taking a drastic and terrifying turn: some pirates were throwing themselves off deck just to try their luck swimming towards the sirens and therefore swimming towards their death, while the others kept soundlessly walking toward the railing as if they were possessed, their eyes void of any emotion.

Quirking a brow you stared at the group of sirens once again, silently admiring their beauty and their pretty tail. However something wasn’t adding up: you could clearly see their lips move, but you seemed to be the only one who couldn’t hear their chant.

Leana’s shoulder harshly bumping against yours was what made you wake up from your silent daze; like anyone else, her eyes were unfocused, and she had already thrown one leg over the railing.

«Wait, no!» yelling at her to stop, you covered her ears with your hands out of instinct, when the unthinkable happened: the fog that seemed to cloud Leana’s gaze had vanished as soon as you touched her, and she looked at both herself and you with a puzzled expression.

«What’s happening?» she questioned, confused, «why can’t I hear them?» at her question, it was as if your thoughts began to align, quickly forming a more or less clever answer; could it be that it was because you were from another dimension? You immediately tested your wild guess, wrapping around her wrist the hair tie you always kept on your wrist.

«Still nothing?» you asked, helping her safely climb back on deck, so that no one else could drag her in the water out of accident.

«I can see them singing, but I can’t hear them,» she confirmed with astonishment, glancing at the small elastic band now adorning her wrist, «is this some sort of talisman?» she questioned again but you kept silent, not sure about what you should have answered.

“Wait, if this managed to help her, this means that…”

«Leana, where are my clothes,? You know, the ones I was wearing when you found me in the sea?» you immediately questioned her: if things really were what they seemed, maybe you has a chance to save everyone.

«Come with me.» Leana immediately replied, and shortly after you both raced to the Captain’s quarters as if you were running against time.

«I have an idea, but that will make me sound like a lunatic witch» you quoted Minho, before explaining yourself, «we need to shred them in as many pieces we can and stick them inside the other’s clothes.» you kept your jeans in your hands, handing her both the cotton t-shirts you were wearing at home; however, there was no sign of mock in her eyes.

«You already saved my life, I trust you, witch or not.» she encouraged, and after nodding and each other Leana grabbed two of Chris’ daggers, and after handing one to you as well, you both ran back on deck.

“This is so wrong,” you thought, “I’m about to act like a typical heroine and I don’t have a catchphrase to say!” adrenaline was running trough your veins to the point of making you delirious, and you mentally tried to come up with an outstanding idea as fast as you could?

“How about “for Frodo”?… No, that would be plagiarism,” you kept thinking as you and Leana closed the Captain’s quarters room behind your shoulders, “I got it, “Geronimo!”… Nah, too corny.”

«I’ll take the right side and you take the left side?» Leana urged, already cutting some fabric out of your t-shirt with her dagger; she snapped you out of your thoughts, and your eyes immediately went back on the scenery in front of you.

No more than thirty pirates were left – a quarter of the crew, and much to your dismay, you noticed from the corner of your eye how Chris, Seungmin and Changbin were already in the water.

«Hey Leana, you know what we say in Europe before doing things like this?» your heart was hammering in your chest to the point you were certain it was trying to escape your body.

«Uh... May Margoria have mercy on us?» she tried, as the both of you started walking in opposite directions.

«No, no, it’s even better,» you chuckled at your own thoughts, before encouraging the both of you with a short and simple: «it’s Britney, bitch.»

From that moment, you and Leana were running like two desperate women on a mission, and you tried to ignore the pain that your heart was feeling as you were repeatedly cutting your pair of favourite jeans.

“It’s for a fucking good cause,” you thought motivating yourself, urging your legs to move faster.

Actually, if you and Leana were feeling like two heroes out of an adventure novel, the sight from the outside looked really bizarre: the deck was completely silent as the pirates were walking like zombies, and the only noise was the one made from your heels as you frantically ran back and fort, not to mention that you were occasionally screaming «tag, you’re it!» before running towards the next pirate.

Moreover, as soon as someone of the crew managed to wake up, nor you nor Leana ever stopped to explain what was going on; you just pushed a few pieces of uncommon fabric against their chest just to shout an order for them to follow. You could feel your lungs burn, and although you desperately wanted to stop and catch your breath, you saw that Minho was in the same position Leana had been in few minutes earlier and you quickly urged your legs to run faster, somehow.

“Why the fuck I never did jogging while I was home?” you internally cursed yourself, but the most important thing was that you managed to stop Minho by a harsh grip on his strong bicep. Minho’s eyes increasingly focused, and he looked at you with bewilderment; you didn’t give him time to ask anything, because you thrusted the only piece of fabric you had left in his hand.

«See this? This was my favourite pair of jeans,» you spoke, your breath ragged due to the fact that you had been running without stopping for more time than you were used to, Minho was about to question why he couldn’t hear the sirens anymore, when you interrupted him again, «let go of this damn denim fabric, and I’ll kill you.»

«What’s going on?» Minho finally questioned, swooning his leg over the railing so that he was once again safely on deck, but before you could answer, Leana had quickly walked towards you with Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin and few of the pirates who had managed to wake up, still clutching the piece of fabric as instructed.

By now, you had managed to save everyone who was still on deck, however, you still had a big problem: the majority of your crew – including the Captain, was still swimming towards the sirens.

«What now?» Leana questioned, her concerned eyes locked on her husband.

«I don’t know.» your shoulders fell as you admitted disheartened, your trembling hands still desperately holding Minho’s hands over what was left of your favourite pair of jeans. «Aren’t you still wearing that thing underneath your shirt?» Leana questioned, and your right hand reflexively touched your bra over your linen shirt. “Not my Victoria’s Secret…” you thought, but Leana quickly dismissed her own idea. «It’s not like we can throw ourselves down there, we’ll never reach them in time.» she added, and a nervous silence fell once again. The pirates kept silent, not daring to interrupt your conversation with Leana; no one knew what was happening but for all they knew, they owed their life to the both of you. However, the sirens have been focusing their attention on your presence for a while, and as you were considering some stupid and wild idea out of panic, the sirens had stopped singing; the pirates in the water woke up immediately from their daze, immediately yelling to each other to swim back to the Golden Fleece, and your head started to spin with confusion.

Apparently, for whatever reason, the sirens decided they weren’t hungry anymore, and therefore decided to leave, disappearing under the surface of water. Unbeknownst to you, those sirens knew about travelers like you, for it was not the first time that someone immune to their alluring voices had defeated them.

The pirates were now climbing on deck, and if it weren’t for Minho’s arms quickly wrapping around your waist, you would have fallen on your knees as the rush of adrenaline left your body altogether.

«What a week, huh?» you joked, your voice low enough only for the pirate to hear.

«It’s monday morning, princess.» Minho absently replied, studying your exhausted features and actually concerned about the state you were in.

Needless to say, less than an hour later – as soon as everyone had changed out of their soaked clothes, you found yourself in the Captain’s quarters with nine pair of eyes studying you once again; however, this time, the atmosphere was completely different.

«Although we are grateful to you, I believe we need an explanation.» Chris simply questioned; even though his voice remained polite, you could easily notice that he was demanding the truth.

«Are you really a witch?» Hyunjin suggested curiously and without hostility; you shook your head no, and your gaze briefly locked with Minho, who gave you a short nod, as to encourage you to tell them what you had told him as well.

«I’m not a witch, I.. » you sighed, what were you supposed to say? You definitely couldn’t break out the news that they were characters from a novel, but you could definitely tell them part of the truth, «I’m from another world. Or just another dimension, I don’t know. The thing is, at home everything works very different from here and… I really don’t know what to say. I ended up falling asleep in my house and waking up in the sea, right before you saved me.»

The room was silent for some seconds, before they eventually started discussing your explanation, but overall, everyone seemed to believe you.

«We are in your debt.» Chris announced, standing up from his chair, and you felt nervous all of a sudden; you loved his character and how reliable he was despite being a pirate, however, you always thought that he was a little bit too dramatic, especially in these kind of situations.

«No, no. We’re good buddy, really.» you anxiously waved your hands in front of you, as if to shake away the thought of having a whole crew of pirates indebted to you, «besides, you saved me first, I returned the favor, we’re even.»

«At least, allow us to help you!» Leana insisted, reiterating the fact that if they were alive was exclusively because of you.

«Do you remember how you ended up here?» Seungmin added, agreeing with Leana.

«I bought a book – a very specific one, and somehow I ended up shifting.»you had shortly explained; the information sent them into another brief discussion among themselves.

«Maybe fate is really on your side,» Chris commented, «we’ll be arriving to O’dyllita in few days; the capital – O’draxxia is known for having the biggest and best-stocked library of all known land.» the Captain explained that you could try visit there, to see if you could find anything regarding shifting dimension.

«Of course, if you don’t, you’ll be welcome to stay with us!» Jeongin had quickly added, and you found yourself nodding at his eagerness, thanking everyone else as well.

«Another thing,» Leana suddenly spoke, as if a thought had suddenly came to her mind, «who is that “Britney” you mentioned earlier? Is she a goddess from your world?» she innocently questioned, but you couldn’t help but find yourself laughing at the absurdity of the situation you got yourself in.

«More or less.» you admitted, and she seemed content with the answer.

The day had eventually fallen back into the same routine rather quickly, making you realize that this kind of situations weren’t that uncommon; however, every now and then some of the pirates would greet you, thanking you for saving their life before going on with their day.

«Excuse me, princess,» an unfamiliar voice called out, and you immediately turned your head. One of the pirates was standing not so far from you; he was definitely older than you, even if despite his youthful appearance his beard and his hair was almost completely grey. He hesitantly outstretched his hand towards you, and you curiously examined the small necklace in the palm of his hand. It was definitely plain looking, a thin looking chord with a too much familiar charm attached to it; without thinking, you took a step forward to take a better look.

Turns out – for the second time that day, that you weren’t hallucinating things: the small charm was indeed a piece of fabric from your clothes, now neatly braided together as to form a tiny charm.

«My old man was a tailor, so I learned a thing or two from him,» you patiently glanced at him, waiting for him to explain himself further as you glanced back and forth from his face to his hand, «I ended up making a talisman for everyone out of the fabric you gave us, since the Captain and Leana explained to us what you did fpr us,» you kept silent, not understanding why he was handing one to you as well, «I know you don’t need one, but we want you to have one as well.»

«“We”?» you echoed; glancing around, you noticed that few other pirates were definitely pretending to do their chores just to curiously overlook the situation, wondering what your reaction might have been.

«It’s a way to tell you that you’re in the crew,» Leana excitedly spoke, appearing out of nowhere and hugging your shoulder, «you saved a whole lot of pirates, you know what it means? You’re a pirate, love.»

«What?» you questioned, hesitantly reaching out to grab the necklace from the pirate’s outstretched hand, who thanked you for accepting his humble gift.

“Holy shit, I’m the hero of the day,” you thought, trying to process the fact that a pirate had just thanked you for accepting a necklace made out of clothes from another dimension.

«For your information,» Felix’s sudden deep voice made you turn around in surprise, since the new information had made your head spin, «it was a unanimous decision.» he clarified; as you happened to lock gaze with Minho, he simply winked at you with a mischievous smile, and you could swear that for the first time, you felt the butterflies in your stomach do somersaults.

The secret escapades you occasionally had with Minho during the night ended up being a habit, and as the weather started to become colder, you eventually decided to move things to your room; more than once, you and Minho ended up falling asleep after nights spent talking about the most various topics and every time, Minho would wake up before dawn just to sneak back to his room.

«Do you still think I’m a lunatic siren?» you quietly mumbled one night, quite scared of the possible affirmative answer. Minho was sitting opposite of you on your bed, your knees almost brushing against each other’s.

«I don’t.» Minho honestly answered after what seemed to be an eternal silence; he was still staring at you with an indecipherable gaze that made you feel extremely small, but it was significantly softer now. You were certain that something in your relationship with Minho had drastically changed since the night he found you crying alone, and somehow, even if you didn’t want to be seen in such a vulnerable state, you were happy he was the one who found you nonetheless.

Above all – most importantly, since Minho’s behaviour towards you had changed and gradually started to become softer, you could swear you felt your feelings drift towards him at a slow but steady speed. To state the obvious, he was handsome, and you often found yourself looking at him as he was talking with the others on deck, the wind blowing through his hair and his clothes making him look like a runaway Prince from a fairytale; he was also funny and an extremely good listener, and the more you spent time together, the more your heart would fill with feelings for him, just like a slow tide at noon.

«Do you believe me, then?» you mumbled, as if you were trying your luck; despite you told everyone that you came from another dimension, the topic of your conversations with Minho were a secret, and he was completely aware about that. Even though you desperately wanted him to believe your words, you couldn’t help but trying to imagine how you would react if you were in Minho’s shoes and of course, you had to admit that you would have your good doses of suspicions as well.

«I’m not really sure I can understand everything you tell me,» he admitted, «but I really want to try.» you found yourself genuinely smiling at his words.

A comfortable silence fell once again, and you searched for Minho’s eyes in the partial darkness of the place; three small candles were lightning up the room, creating an intimate atmosphere while allowing you to see each other just enough. «Thank you, Min Min.» you quietly mumbled, now definitely trying your luck; you knew that the only person allowed to call him like that was Felix, and although your relationship was completely different from how it started, you were certain that he would admonish you, telling you not to call him like that.

However, Minho’s reaction was definitely unexpected; his eyes met yours in less than a second, and despite the little lighting in the room, you could clearly see a sudden blush adorning both his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

«Wait, did you just…? No, nevermind,» Minho quickly dismissed, his unexpected flustered state was more than enough to make your cheeks flare up as well, «let’s suppose you ended up coming here from another dimension, why do you think it happened?» the conversation took another bittersweet turn, and you went back staring at your knees.

«I have no idea.» you confessed, disheartened, since you had wondered about that a concerning amount of times as well.

«Do you want to go back?» Minho questioned out of curiosity; he had immediately noticed how you eventually managed to find your place among the crew, and how you got along with everyone.

«I can’t even explain how much I want to.» you admitted, and before you could actually realize it, tears had started to escape your eyes.

«Hey, don’t cry, I’m sorry I brought that up,» Minho seemed to move towards you as if he had been hurt by a sudden static, «I didn’t want to make you cry.» he mumbled again, wiping your tears away as gently as he could, touching you as if you were made of frail glass despite his usual roughness. Eventually, he placed your pillow over his lap and you let him adjust your position enough that you could lay your head over it.

Minho kept gently stroking your hair with clumsy yet gentle movements – clearly unfamiliar with intimacy, lulling you to sleep while mumbling that «it’s okay, I’ll help you find a way,» or even «don’t cry, pretty princess, you’re safe now.»

That night was the first time that you and Minho willingly got so close physically, and you never expected for his touch to feel as comforting as it did; although you had stopped crying few minutes after you were laying on his lap, you didn’t want for that interaction to stop, and therefore you laid there, greedily taking all the unexpected affection Minho was showering you with.

Two days later, you were officially touching land; two days later, you were completely certain about the fact that you had shifted dimension – since there was a tiny part of your heart that still hoped you were having a really weird dream.

The port was large and full of people busy working; you looked around in amazement admiring everything: the small stalls of the market a little further on, people’s clothes, the type of architecture of the houses… However, something didn’t add up once again. There were various wooden signs hanging on the stalls, price indicators or more simply indicators of what could be found in each one of them, and despite the fact that the alphabet was a strange combination o weird symbols you’ve never seen in your life, you could understand them; fabrics, groceries, swords, you could read everything, was it another special ability you gained while shifting? “This is crazy,” you thought as you kept looking around yourself, “it’s like I chosen a default language in a videogame.”

Minho seemed to have noticed the puzzled expression on your face as you were glancing around, and quickly got to your side. «Not like it’s important for us, but can you read and write?» he questioned, watching as you hesitantly nodded at him.

«I’m not sure about the writing part,» you answered, looking around and not quite believing your eyes, «but it turns out I can read!»

«That’s good,» Minho’s sudden gentle smile made you feel incredibly flustered, and you shortly played with your fingertips since you didn’t know what you were supposed to answer, «I’ll see you tonight, then.» he added, making you furrow your eyebrows.

Before you could question his words, Leana and Chris had joined you, the latter informing you that he had already booked a carriage for both you and Leana.

“That’s it? They’re going to leave me here?” you met Minho’s gaze, just to switch it quickly towards Leana, who had reached out to hold your hand, gently tugging you towards her.

«I believe someone forgot to tell you,» she said, admonishing Minho with a stern gaze, «O’draxxia, the Capital, is a city in which men cannot enter, meaning that we have all the day for ourselves!»

The carriage ride lasted a little more than an hour, and both you and Leana kept staring out of the window, amazed by the scenery surrounding the two of you; it was the first time for Leana as well to venture into O’dyllita, and just like you, she was overly excited to finally visit O’draxxia, since she had often heard about it.

«From what I know, almost everyone in the city is a priestess,» she had explained, the two of you never looking at each other since your attention was completely engrossed towards opposite directions, «and they say the library is so huge that there are pillars as big as towers that are used as bookshelves!»

Despite the dense and rich vegetation, the landscape seemed to have a tremendously lonely air; in the distance you could see ruins of old structures that looked like castles or fortresses, clearly uninhabited and reclaimed by vegetation. Overall, the landscape almost seemed fiabesque, even if you couldn’t glimpse a trace of a living soul for kilometres. Just as Leana had said, O’draxxia was entirely populated by women, and all of them looked mesmerizing and stunning; some of them greeted you and Leana with a court nod, just like they did with the other women that were visiting the city. Despite the fact that the city was populated and animated by the priestesses and occasional tourists, the city gave you a serene yet lonely feeling. The houses were simple and elegant, made of grey bricks with bright green plants growing along the walls, covering some parts with elegant red and orange flowers. Both you and Leana followed one of the priestess’ indications to reach the library, as the two of you kept glancing around in utter wonder as you were walking.

«I’m really glad we get along,» Leana spoke out of the blue as you were strolling around town, headed towards the library, interlocking her arm with yours; you sent her a glance, only to start once again to focus on the unfamiliar scenery in front of your eyes, «we tried to let other girls on our ship, but it didn’t end well.»

«Why not?» you questioned out of curiosity, your gaze still focused on the unfamiliar flowers decorating the streets; the novel you’ve read ended as soon as Chris and Leana got their happy ending, so her words were definitely something you didn’t know about.

«They ended up liking Chris a little bit too much, and you know…» the innocent smile on Leana’s lips was a stark contrast to the gesture she made: she ran her index finger over her neck horizontally, and you suddenly widened your eyes, gulping nervously.

«You… did you kill them?» you whispered, only for her ears to hear, not quite knowing how to feel about it.

«And threw them in the sea,» she proudly clarified with a wink, «for all I know, they could be the sirens that attacked us.» her tone was as nonchalant as if she was talking about the weather, and you furrowed your eyebrows, familiar with what she was implying, since you clearly recalled the author mentioning it once.

Apparently, mermaids – or mostly known as sirens, were the women thrown off ships because of the common belief about “having a woman on boat brings bad luck”, and therefore, as those poor women sank to the bottom of the sea, they committed themselves to their rage and their desire of revenge. You clearly remember how that paragraph made you quite uncomfortable, empathizing with those women as they rightfully wanted to take revenge on the people that killed them without reason. Moreover, the author described how they started to change underwater, their lungs adapting to the water until they could breathe and their tied legs eventually became a tail over time. They drowned sailors and pirates in revenge, but especially, they seem to target the crew that did them wrong, until they could see the remaining of their ships at the bottom of the sea.

All of a sudden, one of your first conversations with Leana came to your mind. «So, what do you think about Chris?» she had questioned with an earnest smile, the both of you sitting on deck as you watched him ordering the others around.

«He’s awesome,» you immediately answered, excitedly, «Felix told me he’s in charge of each route of the whole sea, and he’s basically around my age. He’s really awesome for that!» you had excitedly explained, avoiding to mention too intricate details you read in the novel.

«He really is, don’t steal him from me though!» she had laughed back then, gently nudging your shoulders with hers in an almost friendly gesture.

«I wouldn’t dare,» you immediately scoffed, «you’re basically the perfect match! moreover, he’s not really my type.»

Only now you realized all the things that could have gone so incredibly wrong if your interaction had gone wrong back then, and you glanced at her once again. Leana was now gazing around the town in amazement, since you knew that she had never been here as well; you instinctively scoffed a laugh, to thing that you believed Minho was the biggest threat among the crew.

Not to mention that the surprises were definitely not over; shortly after, Leana asked you if you believed in soulmates.

«I think I do,» you confessed; it was definitely one of your favourite genres to read about, but you couldn’t admit that to her, «why?»

«I’ve been thinking about it lately, but I never had anyone to talk about it…» she admitted.

“I wonder why,” you silently commented, but kept silent.

«Sometimes I have the feeling that me and Chris were meant to be, you know?» she fondly smiled, her gaze lost somewhere in the scenery around the two of you as she was probably recalling one of the various memories she had created with her husband; you were about to answer something encouraging and motivational, when her next words definitely made your voice die in your throat. «I mean, I didn’t even like Chris when he brought me on the ship, let alone if I could imagine myself falling in love with him or even marrying him.» she admitted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait a fucking minute now,”

«What?» you asked in complete disbelief. Once again, you perfectly recalled you read that Chris and Leana were in love before she got romantically and dramatically stolen away from him; to be precise, Leana was engaged to another man, who she didn’t love.

However, Leana was standing in front of you, telling you a completely different part of the story, making you question if the things you’ve read on your couch were correct in the first place.

«I was engaged with an officer of the navy, and I loathed pirates at first; I accepted to go with Chris because I agreed with my fiancée that I would have made Chris vulnerable in some way.» Leana hesitantly confessed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to find an actual reply, «in the end I fell for him little by little, to the point where I couldn’t imagine my life without him.»

“What the hell,” you thought; you had stopped walking altogether, and were simply standing still in silence, a whirlwind of thoughts floating around your head as you were staring at Leana. You never read something like this in the book, but if we had to be honest, the book was following Chris’ point of view, but again, by the way Leana was described, she was meant to be the typical damsel in distress that runs away from an unhappy relationship to find her love.

However, in front of you stood Leana, a damsel that was very not in distress, a damsel who had a concerning series of murders weighting on her shoulders, whose original plan was to serve Chris’ head to the navy.

«I’m glad you married him,» you ended up blurting out, «you look really cute together.» Leana loudly laughed at your unexpected comment, and as the two of you started walking again, she hugged your arm a little closer to her side.

«Wanna know who’s cute?» her teasing tone made you sigh out of reflex, not sure whether you wanted to know the answer to her question, «You and Min Min.» she chanted, making you whine as an answer.

«I don’t like him like that, let’s just – let’s talk about it another time, okay?» you pleaded, hoping that she would fall for your suggestion so that you could keep avoiding the topic forever.

The moment you stepped in front of the library’s entrance, you couldn’t believe your eyes: it was as if a huge castle had been redecorated just to serve a new and better purpose. Leana didn’t lie when she said about the pillars being huge, and the more you ventured in, the more you felt overwhelmed; you loved books, and for a second, you thought that you could become a priestess just to have a chance to read every single book you could see, even if it would have took literally a lifetime. In the end, you ended up asking to a priestess for help, since you would have taken at least a whole day in order to find some useful information without asking for help.

«Books about teleportation?» the priestess had repeated your words, as if making sure she heard you loud and clear; you hesitantly nodded, feeling incredibly small under her gaze; she eventually nodded at the two of you, asking to follow her. Needless to say, you ended up walking your way on the stairs around one of the pillars, just to reach the highest bookshelf.

«It’s been a while since someone asked for that,» she said, trying to make conversation with the two of you, but only Leana was answering her various questions, since you were way too nervous to speak. As you reached the bookshelf, your shoulders immediately lowered in deject; there were only four books about teleportation, but no one of them were like the one you brought.

«Sadly, we only have these ones.» the priestess excused herself, quickly taking notice of your saddened expression; you immediately tried to smile, shaking your head and answering that it was okay.

«Are you sure you’re okay?» Leana whispered to you, as soon as the priestess begun to walk down the stairs on her own and was now out of sight; your gaze was still on the books, which you eventually tried to examine.

What if the cover was different because you were in a different dimension? However, as your fingers leafed through the pages, you couldn’t understand your feelings; you almost seemed happy about the fact that your task had failed, as if what you really wanted was to remain into this world.

«I am,» you nodded, seeing Leana’s concern vanish from her features, «I really am.»

The fact that your mission had failed meant only one thing: you and Leana were free to curiously look around as you pleased, and that’s exactly what you did. At the end of the day, once you were back in the carriage, you could swear you almost had a headache due to all the informations the both of you had tried to assimilate in your brain.

«What was that one again? Flat parsley and saffron?» she mumbled, massaging the side of her head.

«This planet is not flat was the first part,» you tiredly answered, mimicking her actions, «I don’t know where you got the parsley and saffron thing from.»

«It was the recipes book I wanted to steal.» she urged, trying to give you another hint, as if you hadn’t read an infinite quantitative of books within few hours.

«Oh, that one,» you hummed, recalling the moment where Leana had tried to see if the recipes book would fit under her shirt, saying that Felix would have loved it, «it was the recipe of saffron rice… There was no parsley, though.»

When you got off the carriage, Minho and Chris exchanged a quizzical glance as they saw the two of you look exhausted; both of you were dragging your feet towards them, talking with a flat tone about how amazing your day had been.

«Found anything?» Minho questioned, ignoring how his heart was beating in a silent hope that you didn’t manage to find the book you were looking for; you kept walking, silently shaking your head. Minho didn’t say anything as he walked up next to you; the pirate breathed a soft sigh, swinging his arm around your shoulders and instinctively you hugged his waist, leaning your head towards his shoulder.

«You’ll find it.» you heard Minho’s reassuring tone, and you shrugged in a silent answer.

“I think it will be okay, even if I don’t.” you secretly thought, glancing at the pirate walking next to you.

Out of your sight, Chris and Leana were glancing both at you and Minho, before looking at each other.

«Am I hallucinating?» Chris questioned his wife; he knew that things between you and the pirate had improved, but he didn’t imagine they had improved that much.

«I think we’ll be celebrating another marriage soon.» Leana sighed, fondly smiling at the two of you. «“I don’t like Minho”, my ass.» she scoffed, mumbling to herself as an amused smirk erupted on her lips, recalling the moment you denied liking the pirate.

That night, you found out that Chris not only owned every single soul sailing above the sea, he also owned few taverns scattered around the land as well.

You and the others had ended up in the courtyard of a local tavern – the Bitter Dahlia, the musicians animatedly creating a joyful atmosphere as few people had eventually started to dance. You had let yourself convince to try a whole lot different kind of drinks by Hyunjin, and now you were tipsily strolling around the courtyard with a pint of beer in your hand, and thankfully, Minho had easily noticed it; that’s why as soon as you walked past him in order to find Felix, he reached out, placing his hand on your right shoulder and tugging you close to his body, your back pressed against his chest. You didn’t realize it was Minho at first, you simply pouted because someone was stopping you all of a sudden; when you decided to find out who was attached to the arm blocking your path you giggled as soon as you saw Minho’s face, and let him pull you closer to him.

Minho didn’t say anything, and neither did you – nor did you move away in the first place.

«I think you drank too much, princess,» his hoarse voice – probably affected by the drinks he had, spoke right against your ear, and you instinctively crossed your ankles just to press your thighs together; you let him take the pint of beer from your hand, his arm eventually found his way around your waist, and he leaned his chin on your shoulder.

«Felix!» you giggled, catching a hold of the boy’s forearm as soon as you saw him walk by, tugging him towards both you and Minho, «Look at them,» you excitedly spoke, «look at them!» you urged again, giggling excitedly as you obviously forgot that Minho was right behind you and therefore he could hear everything.

Even if he was in a worse state than you were, it didn’t take a genius for Felix to understand who you were talking about, and he followed your glance towards the small group of couples that were dancing; of course Chris and Leana were there, and of course you and Felix had felt the need to talk about how wonderful and amazing they looked.

«They’re both stumbling on their feet,» Minho had stated from behind you, holding your waist a little firmer, and you suddenly reminded that he had been unconsciously made part of your secret conversations with Felix, «they’re really drunk, like – three sheets to the wind drunk.» he clarified, amused with your behaviour.

«You don’t understand,» you quickly answered, your hand flying on top of the one the pirate had placed on your hip, «look at -» your voice vanished from your throat as soon as you turned your head towards him, and instead, your heart picked up pace at a concerning speed; Minho’s face was millimetres from yours, his gaze burning into yours, «them.» you eventually finished, your voice barely above a whisper. You and Minho had already been close enough to kiss once, but to say that the situation was completely different would be an understatement.

If back then neither you nor Minho would have considered the option to kiss the other – let alone being attracted to each other, to this day things had drastically changed. Even if you blamed it on the alcohol, you were very much aware about the fact that you would have loved to kiss him; the fact that Minho’s gaze kept shifting between your eyes and your lips clearly told you that your desire was reciprocated.

“If this was a movie we would make out while Céline Dion was singing her heart out in the background,” you drunkenly thought, “and all I get is drunk bards play the tarantella”.

«Well, this is something unexpected!» Jisung’s loud voice made you and Minho immediately turn your head towards him, and much to your embarrassment, he wasn’t alone; of course Changbin and Hyunjin were with him.

«She’s tipsy, I didn’t want her to fall over.» Minho had immediately answered, his voice a little bit too defensive if you were to ask Hyunjin, who carefully – and drunkenly, studied his expression with a sly smirk.

«And the empty chair next to you was claimed by a ghost?» Jisung questioned the pirate, who rolled his eyes without answering.

However, the worst still had to happen, because in that very moment, Leana seemed to appear out of thin air, as if she had magically listened to the conversation while she was dancing with her husband.

«You didn’t hear it from me,» Leana loudly announced as if you and Minho weren’t there, «but when we returned from O’draxxia, Minho straight up hugged her.» You felt Minho bury his forehead in the crook of your neck, and you shortly met Felix’s gaze, who was looking at you with a drunk dazed smile: «We better talk about this!» he said.

«And, he also kissed her forehead.» Leana lied, getting drunk shouts of surprise from your friends, and you knew that as soon as you got back on the ship, you and Minho would become the most interesting topic among the crew.

«Want to scoot over?» Minho spoke against your ear once again, and you found your mind drifting towards unholy thoughts before you could stop yourself; his question was sincere, and as he voiced it, he started to move his arm away from your hip. However, you didn’t bother to voice an answer; since your hand was still placed above his, you pushed it more firmly against your hip, purposely intertwining your fingers together.

As you felt Minho’s lips hovering above the exposed skin of your shoulder in a barely perceptible kiss, you could swear that all the noise coming from the loud party around the two of you had been ignored from your brain.

Back on the Golden Fleece, everything seemed to have fallen back to the usual routine, with the only addiction that your friends had decided to constantly tease you and Minho about your almost kiss.

Of course, even if three days had passed since that night and Minho had visited your bedroom as always, no one dared to approach the topic, and you kept dancing on your tiptoes around each other. However, what’s a princess without a fairy godmother?

That evening, right after dinner, Felix had bursted into your room unannounced, somewhat expecting Leana’s presence as well; the two of them were casually sitting on your bed, ignoring the fact that you were curled up under the covers, refusing to get out and face them.

«Well?» Felix urged, lowering the blanket just to expose your face; you hissed like a stray cat, but you quickly understood that neither of them was going to leave without an answer to the same question.

«I don’t have anything to say,» you stubbornly said, and you heard Leana snort.

«Okay, we’ll go first:» she spoke, leaning towards you, «I was drunk but I sure do have eyes, girl.» she spoke with an alluring tone, and you tried to roll over the opposite side in order not to hear her, «and my eyes are telling me that you like Minho, and Minho likes you.» choosing to groan instead of answer, Felix saw an opportunity to chime in.

«You were still dancing when it happened, but they almost kissed – like, kissed.» Felix added, empathizing the last part of his sentence, and Leana almost shrieked in disbelief, her offended voice questioning why you didn’t tell her such an important and fundamental detail.

«Did you tell him?» Felix questioned, just to add the question you didn’t dare to ask yourself, «Oh… Do you still want to go back home?» You eventually threw the blanket off your face hearing that, meeting your friends’ eyes as your face was filled with unsure doubt; you never thought it would have happened, but you had to admit to yourself that you were happy. You had friends, you felt accepted, and you managed to have fun thanks to your friends, who cherished you. Moreover…

«I don’t really want to hurt your feelings,» Leana suddenly spoke, interrupting your thoughts, «but when we were in O’draxxia and you didn’t find the book, you almost looked… relieved.» your gaze met, and you realized you had a problem: your heart was clearly telling that you wanted to stay there, in that absurd world you’ve read about one random afternoon.

When you met Felix’s gaze, you realized you had another problem, maybe a bigger one than the previous one: you liked Minho. Well, of course you already knew that, since he was your favourite character of the novel; however, liking the real Minho, the one daily standing in front of you, the one who went from threatening to throw you overboard to gently caress your hair until you fell asleep was a different kind of thing.

«I think I need a second.» you admitted with a sigh, staring at the wooden tiles on the ceiling,

“Let’s suppose I like him,” you thought, “I don’t think he actually likes me, he was probably tipsy,” you bit the inner part of your cheek, “what if he likes me and I like him and I find the book?” you scratched the back of your neck out of frustration, ignoring the fact that you wanted to scream, “what do I do?”

«Well, you could start with a simple “I think I have feelings for you and I don’t think I want to go back any longer”» Felix gently suggested, and as your gaze flew towards his, you realized that you had been unconsciously voicing your thoughts all along.

The same moment Felix was heading towards your room, Minho was heading towards the dining room, knowing that he would have found what he was looking for. The heavy smell of smoke and alcohol filled his nostrils, as he approached his friends’ table quietly.

«Loverboy decided to ditch his girl to embrace his old habits?» Chris glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow with a mischievous smile.

«I’m coming here in spite of myself, but I… have to.» Minho spoke in a dramatic tone that made Chris snort, waiting for his friend to tell them what was going through his mind, «I think I might like her.»

«We knew it already,» Hyunjin replied with no interest, his eyes still glued on his cards, admonishing Jisung because he was trying to sneak some of the coins off the table and inside his sleeve; Minho stared at his friend with stupor, but Hyunjin seemed too focused on their match to pay attention to his friend.

«"Like her" as in, “I want to hold your hand under the moonlight”,» Changbin – the only one beside Chris who was listening to Minho, suggested, «or “I want to ravish you until you can’t stand”?»

Minho didn’t answer immediately, choosing to think about it for a while, even if he didn’t really have to; he undoubtedly found you attractive, and over time, he found himself slowly getting incredibly soft for you, to the point where he would glance around at random moments of the day just to see what you were doing.

The more Minho’s silence went on, the more his friends had gradually stopped focusing on their match in order to look at him with curiosity and malice, enjoying how the pirate’s face gradually got flustered.

«As in… both.» Minho confessed, making his friends hum and mumble in acknowledgement.

«Ah! … Well, we knew that already.» Hyunjin replied again, his sharp gaze once again back to the table in front of them.

«What do you mean?» Minho asked quizzically, since it was the second time his friend had mentioned it.

«Yeah, well, remember when Jisung was teaching her the basic of self defence?» Seungmin – who had kept silent until then, asked making Minho immediately nod, how could he forget that day? Jisung had been trying to teach you a few simple movements for what seemed to be hours, but in the end, you kept doing stupid and predictable mistakes because you seemed to be too tense to use a dagger – let alone a sword.

«Leave it, Han, she’ll end up stabbing herself by mistake.» he had told his friend with an arrogant tone, and he clearly remembered the flustered expression on your face. As always, you tried to fight back, but this time it was a little bit different; that’s how you ended up chasing Minho through the deck while screaming «I’ll fucking kill you, I swear!» until Changbin decided to stop you by stopping you mid run.

«What about it?» Minho asked again, not understanding what his friend wanted to imply.

«Felix and few other saw you laughing,» Seungmin added, «therefore, it was just a matter of time.»

Minho placed his elbow on the table and roughly massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to analyse the situation he was in: he liked you, but what happened few nights ago was just a result of the both of you being tipsy, and moreover, he knew that you wanted to go back home. What was he supposed to do?

«I’m not an expert, but try with a simple “I like you, please stay here with me”.» Jisung had spoken as if he could read his thoughts; only then Minho realized that he had never been silent in the first place.

Minho had eventually joined you in your bedroom few hours after Felix and Leana had left, even if you had already stated that he either fell asleep or he was spending the night gambling with the others. You seemed to miss his presence more than you usually did, especially because that night you were freezing: no matter how many blankets you were laying under, you just didn’t seem to warm up.

“It wouldn’t be punk rock for me to die like this,” you thought, breathing in your joined fists as you tried to ignore the constant shivers of your body.

A familiar knock on the door caught your attention, and as soon as you recognized Minho’s voice whispering his greetings, you had to physically stop yourself from asking him to join you under the covers so that he could warm you up.

Unlike you, Minho didn’t seem to mind the cold that much, but nonetheless he quickly walked up to you, pressing the palm of his hand to your forehead just in case you had a fever.

«I’m genuinely wondering how the hell you manage to live like this.» you broke the silence, your jaw trembling because of the sheer cold; although you tried not to think to the accommodation of your original life, your mind couldn’t help but wander to your beloved electric heater, your faithful companions during winter.

«You just ... get used to it?» Minho questioned back, not really able to give you an actual answer; of course, during the first years he spent sailing he was in the same situation as you – everyone had, but he eventually got used to it. Minho sat on the edge of your bed, mindlessly running his fingertips through your hair – a simple yet intimate gesture he had come to love.

«I can hear flowers blooming in that flower field,» he smugly commented the fact that you were keeping silent, and you clicked your tongue, asking what he meant, «what did you use in your world to keep warm?» he curiously questioned, and your heart soared at the realization that he was honestly and genuinely interested in your stories.

However, you were too cold for your brain to function properly, and you ended up talking about the concept of the electric heating in a very confusing way; nonetheless, Minho didn’t seem to mind you words, for his concern had increasingly risen.

«Hey,» the pirate interrupted your explanation, «are you sure you don’t want another blanket?» despite the fact that you were doing your best, he still noticed the occasional shivers and clattering of your teeth as soon as you stopped speaking.

«It’s okay,» you reassured him, «I used all the blankets Leana gave me… I’ll warm up eventually.» you answered hopefully, but Minho didn’t answer immediately; instead, he reached out, shortly enveloping your hand with his just to comment that it was as if you had stuck your hand into ice.

«Come here,» Minho said, stretching over your legs and fully sitting on your bed with his back against the wall, widening his legs so that he could form a space for you to sit in; you kept still in amazed astonishment, not quite trusting your thoughts on the hypothesis that Minho wanted to cuddle.

«Are you gonna kill me?» you blurted out, for your frozen brain decided it was the most likely solution.

«Quit that, princess,» he clicked his tongue, urging you to come closer, «you know we’re past that.» folding all your blankets around your shape, you slowly crawled in the space he made for you, trying not to lose the small amount of warmth you had created; you immediately tensed up, sitting straight and clutching the blankets closer to your body.

Since the night you almost kissed, you had never been so close to Minho, and for some reason, it was enough for your heart to pick up pace as if it was begging you to set it free through your ribcage.

«Come here,» the pirate repeated, his voice a little gentler – a little softer, and you found yourself leaning against his torso. Unlike you, Minho wasn’t using a blanket to keep himself warm and therefore he could move his arms freely; of course he used them to loosely cage you in his hold.

Although you had to admit that the position you were in definitely looked kind of weird, it was extremely comfortable; Minho’s steady breathing was slowly calming your nerves as well, and you found yourself relaxing in his hold.

«Do you want some of my blankets?» you mumbled quietly, embarrassed about the fact that you didn’t ask sooner.

«I’m good.» Minho answered immediately, gently repeating that you should try to sleep.

Despite the fact that you were comfortable, despite Minho’s presence, despite the fact that you were slowly warming up, sleep was definitely your last priority. The pirate’s nose brushed against your forehead as he was trying to adjust his position to get more comfortable, and you quickly noticed that his skin was cold as well.

«Minho,» you called out again few minutes later; the pirate hummed, and you took it at a silent question to go on, «can we please share blankets?»

«Why?» he chuckled at your distress, and you could feel his soft breath in the side of your face. «You look cold,» you tried to justify yourself, «I have a lot of blankets, we can share.» you insisted.

Minho eventually gave up, and the both of you ended up shifting from your original position; however, this meant that your arms were touching as you were now laying next to each other, and there wasn’t a blanket you could use as an invisible barrier anymore.

Under the sea of sheets, Minho’s right arm snaked under your neck, pulling you to his body; as if you were magnets, you followed his lead, laying on your side and hugging his waist, resting your head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling as close as you could. Your nose was right against Minho’s neck, and you could almost feel the goosebumps he had whenever you breathed; you ended up blaming it on the cold temperature, since you were fond of keeping your mental sanity and you were madly trying to distract yourself from thinking about other ways to share body heat.

«You know, once we got stuck in the middle of an iced part of the sea,» Minho mumbled, talking about one of his adventures as if he was trying to prevent his mind from wandering towards the same sinful thoughts you were trying to avoid.

«What?» you hummed, too tired to try remembering if you read about it in the novel, «How did you get out of there?»

«Ropes,» was his immediate answer, «we ended up pulling on the rope until we could break the ice.»

«Like that “Vikings” episode,» you giggled to yourself in a tired voice; Minho had immediately questioned you about it, and you tried to explain to him what movies and TV shows were.

However, you were obliviously fighting falling asleep, reason why Minho ended up gently shutting you up with a gentle and earnest: «you’ll tell me about it tomorrow.»

As always you fell asleep first, but this time, when Minho moved you so that you could lay on your bed to sleep more comfortably and he could walk back to his room, you weakly grabbed his hand in your sleep.

«I get lonely if you’re not here.» you mumbled, still lost in dreamland. Minho was thankful to the lights being completely off and to you being asleep because the expression on his face was priceless: he was incredibly flustered, his blush was flaring up both his cheeks and the tip of his ears. That night, Minho slept next to you for the first time, and as you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, you found him laying next to you under the sea of blankets; you instinctively snuggled closer to his chest, only to realize that you were partially laying on top of his firm chest. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, you tried to scoot away as quietly as you could in order not to wake him up, just to lay next to him.

However, that was your initial plan, since you soon found out that Minho was indeed a light sleeper; the arm he kept around your waist had tightened out of reflex, harshly pulling you in your original position once again.

«Where do you think you’re going, princess?» he murmured, his voice still groggy due to sleep.

«I, uhm…» you hesitated, your brain was clearly too sleepy to come up with a clever and witty answer. Minho didn’t wait for you to find your words, though; keeping you close to his body, he gently rolled you on your back, partially draping his body over yours instead.

«Go back to sleep,» he murmured again, easing his left leg between yours, and nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

“He’s a cuddler?” you wondered in pleased surprise; your hand eventually ended up in his hair, running your fingertips trough it and trying to lull him back to sleep.

However, Minho found it impossible to fall asleep again, judging your wild heartbeat hammering right under his ear; he glanced up towards the small window in your room, and quickly deduced that it was still the middle of the night, meaning that you didn’t get to sleep much in the first place.

If at first he had tried to lull you back to sleep while caressing your hip in a loving manner, he quickly realized that his touch had quite the opposite effect on you; he also had to admit that the sudden proximity of your body and the position that you were in was making him significantly riled up as well.

«Can’t sleep?» he asked, shortly rubbing his eyes with his fingertips in order to get rid of sleep as fast as he could, deciding that you didn’t have to stay awake on your own; you settled for humming affirmatively at his question, and Minho effortlessly pushed himself up, partially balancing his weight on his right elbow so that he his face was hovering above yours. Due to the change of position, his thigh was firmly pressed between your legs, and you forced yourself to swallow a whimper as his knee slightly dipped in the mattress.

Despite the poor lightning, you could feel his gaze on your features, as if he was trying to see through the darkness; you were clearly trying to do the same, and another silence fell as the Golden Fleece was constantly rocking your body while gently following the rhythm of the night sea.

«Do you think the flowers growing in your head are contagious?» Minho blurted out all of a sudden, his left hand mindlessly running up your side in a gentle yet firm touch, «I think I might go back on my thoughts of you not being a siren.» he quietly added; you didn’t answer – your senses about to go overdrive due to all the different kind of constant stimulation added to the comfortable warmth of his body, settling for humming yet again, silently asking him to go on.

Minho ran his left hand from your side to your neck, and eventually started to run his fingertip over your features, delicately brushing over your skin ever so lightly, touching you as if you were some precious treasure he unexpectedly found in the middle of the sea.

«You have completely driven me mad,» Minho confessed with an earnest voice, his fingertips brushing over your cheekbones, «with affection,» he added, his touch brushing over the bow on your upper lip, «with desire,» you found yourself weakly gripping at the front his shirt as soon as you heard his hoarse voice overflowing with the feelings he was talking about, «to the point where I know I should want you to be happy, but I keep wanting – I keep craving, that you could find your happiness with me.» Minho’s confession made your head spin; you wanted to answer that his feelings were completely reciprocated, answer that you didn’t found happiness with Minho – you found a home. However, your voice died in your throat as soon as the pirate had leaned in, his lips hovering barely above yours, yet almost constantly brushing together due to the ship’s movement.

«I am completely enamoured of everything about you,» Minho had whispered then, making you suddenly tighten the loose grip you had on his shirt to the point that the necklace he had been wearing since they day you saved the crew from the sirens’ had fallen out of the collar, now dangling between your bodies, «your body, your personality, the crazy flower field in your head, princess, I – I don’t want you to go back.»

Your heart was overflowing with a different mix of feelings, but the happiness of your feelings being reciprocated seemed to prevail. «I stopped wanting to go back since me and Leana returned from O'draxxia.» was what you admitted out loud, your voice trembling due to all the sudden emotions that were almost setting your soul on fire.

Only then you leaned in – trusting your body more then your words, capturing the pirate’s lips in a timid first kiss, filling it with all the love you felt for the pirate. Minho returned your gesture immediately, kissing your lips slowly, tentatively, over and over again as he was trying to savour you, shortly kissing your lips just to drift his attention elsewhere and kissing your cheek, your nose, your chin, as if he was trying not to lose himself to the lust he was feeling. The kiss had eventually started to heathen when Minho leaned in to kiss you, just for you to run your fingertips through his hair and harshly closing your hand in a fist against his nape, tugging him closer to you and preventing him from running away, so that you could delicately running your tongue on his lower lip.

Minho’s kisses started to get less cherishing and more passionate, occasionally leaving a path of open mouthed kisses on your neck, his knee digging further in the mattress anytime he moved and creating the kind of friction you were honestly about to beg for. It was as if you were a small ship adrift caught up in a sudden storm; Minho kept worshipping your body and all you could do in that moment was to take, take and take, hoping that as soon as the storm had passed you wouldn’t have completely fallen into madness, wishing to stumble right in another one because you felt addicted to the rush of adrenaline. As your kisses grew hotter, so did your bodies and eventually, the sea of blankets you were covered with was progressively being scattered either on the floor or in a corner of your bed.

On deck, the sight of the sun about to rise in the distance was in stark contrast to the light drizzle that had started to fall, the sound of rain echoing on the wooden tiles and absorbing the faint noises of the pirates waking up for the morning shift; in your bedroom, Minho’s hair felt like gentle rain falling on your body everytime the pirate leaned down to kiss your skin as he was undressing you.

“Well, fuck,” you thought, admitting to yourself that Minho was definitely both a good and experienced lover. He had patiently took his sweet time to pay extreme attention to your body, studying how reacted to his different touches as if he was making up for all the lost time, occasionally showering you with praises as his head was nestled between your legs and he was lapping at your clit, making you quicklytumble on your first orgasm of the night. It had definitely been a long time since you had sex with someone, your boring routine had never actually given you an opportunity to meet new people – let alone think about a relationship, but you weren’t expecting Minho to act so smug about it.

As your bodies were finally connected,Minho had sneaked one arm under your waist while steadily moving his hips against yours, harshly pulling it upwards so that your back would be a little more arched and your naked bodies would be pressed together even more; once again, you were greedily taking everything Minho was giving you, helplessly running your fingernails on his back deep enough you would leave marks, beaming yourself in the feeling of his low moans and the goosebumps erupting on his skin out of reflex.

«Going dumb on me for this little action, princess?» Minho’s hoarse voice was filled with desire as he spoke, his hips gradually slowing until his movements came to a stop; you immediately whimpered loudly at the lack of friction, trying to move your hips in circles because you were desperately to create it on your own. You wanted to feel more, you wanted for that moment to never end. As you kept your movements slow and rhythmic – you had to admit that Minho still hoisting you up was doing half of the job, you grabbed the necklace sill dangling between the two of you with your left hand, harshly tugging it and therefore bringing Minho’s face closer to yours.

«Do you ever shut up?» you answered instead, the nails of your right hand – still gripping at his shoulders, were most definitely digging half moon shapes in his skin, and you felt proud of yourself for not ending up whimpering with need somewhere along your sentence; even if it was probably dawn already, you couldn’t see him clearly yet, but it didn’t take a wild guess for you to know that he was smirking at your words.

«I don’t know, do I?» he challenged, shortly capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, starting once again to move his hips to meet your movements.

«Ruin me, Minho,» you urged, keeping him close to you with your grip on the necklace, «I want to be yours,» you confessed then, your body slowly about to lose itself to the momentary euphoria of another orgasm, «I don’t want you to be anybody else’s but mine.»

«Do you think we can sleep in?» you mumbled, tired; you could both clearly hear that it was raining, and you desperately wished for your alone time with Minho to continue for few more hours; you were now laying in bed, lovingly cuddling in your post orgasm bliss.

«I’m on duty this morning,» Minho replied, caressing the bare skin of your shoulder, and admitting that he would have loved to spend the day like this; eventually, you and Minho woke up, washed up and got ready for your day.

Of course, during the day, the pirate had used any excuse to drive you in a corner of the Golden Fleece and kiss you as desperately as if it was your last time. Of course, you couldn’t escape a certain pair of eyes.

“Oh no, here they come, Sauron and Sauron jr.” you thought, chuckling to yourself as you saw Felix and Leana approaching with big and quick steps; you found it hard to contain your laughter, since they were lightly pushing and pulling each other as if both of them wanted to know first.

«Congratulations on the sex!» Leana had mischievously commented, and you immediately reached out to press your hand against her lips in a vain attempt to let everyone on the Golden Fleece know about your early morning activities, «you have hickeys everywhere.» you heard her mutter against your skin.

«Are you finally official?» Felix questioned, secretly happy to have you as a sister in law; you didn’t immediately reply, since you and Minho didn’t clarify it out loud.

However, as your gaze shortly wondered to your lover, who was continuously walking around on deck while changing his destination every now and then as he was trying to avoid Hyunjin’s Jisung’s and Changbin’s teasing – they were literally tailing him and occasionally trying to widen the collar of his shirt just to see «where do these scratches on your nape come from? Is there a stray cat on board or something?», you found yourself smiling gently at the sight.

«We are.» you confirmed, a smile on your face as you finally felt happy.

A month later, you and Minho were definitely official: he moved to your bedroom, and you managed to fit in your small bed nonetheless. You both spent your days doing your chores, and your nights enjoying your affection, either making love until you were exhausted or talking until you were on the verge to fall asleep.

Minho wanted to know everything about you, every single detail that you didn’t consider important, and you felt cherished, since you knew that no one had ever loved you like that. Actually, you wanted to know everything about Minho as well; although the author of the novel had paid enough attention to his character, there were a lot of things you didn’t know, and you found yourself listening to his stories, silently wishing that you were already in his company so that you could have experienced those memories together.

«You’re a pirate,» he had chuckled at your comment, «I’m sure you’ll get to experience your dose of adventures, too.» Minho was completely smitten with your presence, and so were you; slowly, you found yourself occasionally forgetting about your life before you had shifted into this dimension, admitting to both your lover and your friends that you didn’t want to find a way to go home any longer. Needless to say, they were all more than happy with your choice.

However, a month later, your destiny gave you an unexpected choice.

The Golden Fleece was now docked to a port for your usual restock of supplies, and as everyone was busy with their commissions, you and Minho decided to wander through the nearby marketplace, since everything about that world was new to you. You ended up buying a matching necklace, since the both of you were too scared to lose a ring in the middle of the sea, and you kept playing with it as you were strolling around, your fingers loosely intertwined together.

The marketplace was filled with the most random people, but what captured your attention was a small stall that seemed to be packed with books.

«I’ll check this out for a second.» you told Minho, who had simply nodded at you, answering that he was going to check out the stall right next to yours. As soon as you quickly approached it, a certain book seemed to catch your eye in a magnetic hold: it was relegated in leather, some golden details that recalled the title written in beautiful handwriting. Honestly, a small familiar detail was the one that caught your eye, making your heart rapidly hammer in your chest: a small golden stone embedded right under the title was quietly reflecting the sunlight.

Immediately, you found yourself fanning the pages with anxious fingers, and you couldn’t believe what you were reading; the book was talking about your life, the life you were leading before finding yourself in the novel you had been reading. What the hell was happening?

Quickly, you jumped to the end of the book to read the summary, and you felt as if you couldn’t breathe: it was a short novel about a girl – who coincidentally had both your name and worked exactly where you used to work, who spent her quiet life in a small home town, occasionally meeting her friends.

Of course, it sounded rather plain and boring, but the description was perfectly matching your life; anxiety was slowly clouding your emotions as you opened the book at a random page.

“«Cleo, don’t sit on the window sill!» the girl had yelled from the kitchen, worried about her cat’s habits.”

You closed the book immediately, recalling the scene a bit too vividly; your cat had the habit to sit on the window sill anytime it was open, therefore worrying you to death, and every time you ended up picking her up in order to give her some extra cuddles to refrain her from climbing there yet again.

A whirlwind of thoughts were occupying your head; if this book was talking about your life, that meant you could go back to your ordinary life and keep living your days as you used to.

Going back meant not having occasional nausea due to living on a ship and not risking to die of hypothermia; moreover, all of a sudden, you were definitely craving to eat some junk food.

«Are you interested in purchasing the book, young girl?» an old lady called your attention. She was probably the owner of the stall, and you squinted your eyes at the familiarity of her face; to be honest, you were almost certain that she was the same person that owned the book-store in your original time, but that couldn’t be the case, right?

«Hey princess, if you don’t hurry up, we’ll leave you here!» Minho’s voice interrupted your thoughts, and your head seemed to clear just like the wind clears the sky after a heavy storm; you turned your head to look at your lover, who was looking at you with his hands on his hips, a smug yet enamoured look on his face. The Golden Fleece was about to sail, you reminded yourself, you had simply stopped in town to get some supplies, water and enough provisions for the next trip.

Out of instinct, you hugged the book to your chest, as your eyes remained fixed on Minho; you didn’t know anything about how you managed to end up in this messed up reality, and at this point, you didn’t care.

The chance to go back was right in your hands, but as you watched Minho scoff a laughter at your indecision, every trace of doubt vanished from your heart; you and Minho definitely had a rough start, but you had to admit to yourself that you wouldn’t want to live in another dimension without the pirate who was looking at you as if you were the centre of the universe.

Going back meant not having Felix waking you up in the morning, or Leana bursting into your room looking for cuddles because «Chris is busy with stupid pirate stuff.». It meant not seeing both Seungmin and Jeongin incredibly proud about the latter’s progresses in writing and reading, or Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin restlessly trying to lure you into their gambling circle.

Going back also meant no more Minho; no more walking up in the middle of the night just to cuddle closer to him, no more having quiet sex on deck in the middle of the night, no more laughing among yourselves because of a stupid inside joke you created, not having him gently chuckling at your unconsolable face anytime he was drying your hair with a towel as you kept whining about your limited edition conditioner.

Most importantly, it meant no more Minho telling you that he loved you, his eyes full of love and sincerity.

«Thank you, but I prefer adventure books.» you honestly answered at the lady, and with a content smile you placed the book exactly where it was; you quickly walked towards Minho, who hugged your shoulders out of instinct as the two of you walked towards the port.

«Saw anything you liked out there?» he wondered curiously; you sincerely seemed interested in the book you were holding, why didn’t you buy it?

«Yeah,» you answered honestly, «you.» the pirate scoffed a flustered breath, and you circled his waist as you kept walking.

Unbeknownst to you, the lady was looking at you and Minho with a some sort of fond smile on her lips; as soon as you were at a reasonable distance, the book seemed to vanish, as if it had completely disappeared from this world. In a blink of an eye, the old lady seemed to have disappeared as well, and in her place was standing the original owner of the stall, a man who was selling every kind of jewellery shining brightly on the table in front of him.

Few meters away, a cat with a very unique appearance – black fur randomly dotted with ginger spots and light green eyes, was quietly roaming the port, satisfied with her task. She recalled being called in a different variety of names during her immortal life, “Ananke” was probably the most used among different cultures; however, she will always cherish the memories she had made with a very special human who had randomly picked her up on a rainy day, giving her a shelter, keeping her well fed and gifting her with a brand new name: “Cleo”.

Walking towards the Golden Fleece, your attention was caught by some pirates who were carrying a dozen crates on board that looked quite heavy.

«Did we have so little supplies on board?» you questioned Chris, as soon as you and Minho joined the others on the wharf.

«We had plenty!» Leana answered instead, «Me and Felix decided to fill your wardrobe with new clothes, as a welcoming gift!»

«But… I don’t have a wardrobe in my room…» you answered, wondering how could a wardrobe fit in there now that you and Minho were sharing the bedroom.

«Not yet!» Felix answered, mirroring Leana’s euphoria; you were about to answer him, when Hyunjin had asked you whether you had decided to stay with them.

«I did, Captain said it’s not a problem.» you nodded, imperceptibly pushing your body against Minho’s side as if to look for an invisible shelter; what if the gambler trio was against the idea?

However, Hyunjin had simply nodded, while Changbin and Jisung seemed to be genuinely happy about it.

«Well, that’s great!» you said, clapping your hands once, «Chris said that I could chose the first thing to do, and so I decided we’re about to raid a merchant ship!»

«Are you sure you’re okay? Did you perhaps hit your head again?» Seungmin wondered, instinctively reaching out in order to touch your forehead, as if checking if you had a fever. However, you were already walking towards the Golden Fleece with confident steps, as if you were meant to be there.

«Come on, scallywags!» you eagerly announced in a loud voice, as if you were impersonating the Captain, «Let’s go, Min Min.» you added then, your voice definitely more softer and a smile on your lips.

«Wait!» Jeongin halted everyone, his hands hovering in the air, «Did she just call him-»

«You heard the lady!» Leana interrupted Jeongin, quickly pulling the palm of her hand on the younger’s mouth. «Let’s go!»

“Ah, I really shouldn’t have wasted the Britney quote like that,” you pouted, “now I have to figure out another iconic thing to scream as we walk on the merchants’ ship.” you sighed, instinctively leaning towards Minho as soon as you felt his arm circle your shoulders.

«You seem lost in thought,» he pointed out, noticing your eyebrows furrowed.

«Does “it’s high tide, baby!” sound scary and menacious to you?» you wondered out loud, thing that made Minho burst out laughing, «Why are you laughing? It’s not like we can crash against their ship screaming “vibe check”!» you pretended to be offended, but you found yourself laughing along with your lover.

«“Vibe” what? Where did that come from now?» he asked, already knowing that this was just another one of your weird figure of speech.

«My flower field.» you proudly answered, tapping your temple twice, Minho rolled his eyes, and leaned in, shortly kissing your temple.

Everyone was busy on deck, the Golden Fleece had sailed once again; your gaze lost itself in the vast sea in front of you, and you found yourself recalling the question Leana had asked you when you were on your trip to O’draxxia.

«Do you believe in soulmates?» she had questioned you, and back then you uncertainly answered that you thought you did.

“What if me and Minho are soulmates?” you wondered, unconsciously wrapping your fingers around your matching necklace - both the one you bought at the market and the talisman made out of your precious clothes; you found yourself recalling the unpredictable change of your relationship, and you breathed a content sigh, for the first time in your life feeling completely at peace.

«Yes, we must be.» you softly mumbled to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper losing itself in the wind.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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magentasnail · 29 days

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one thing you should know about me is that I'm a little insane

all of the new bill cipher stuff and euclydia had sparked a lot of discussions about the nature of a 2D dimension, so now I have a very strong one sided beef with anyone trying to claim that "we, as 3D beings, can only see/perceive in 2D" and as a 3D being myself I have to disagree and if I don't voice my opinions in public I will lose my mind

so welcome to "magenta's trying to explain physics without actually knowing physics to anyone who's willing to listen"

so first of all, one major key of this debate is the difference between "see" and "perceive", because that can lead to some confusion

in my opinion there are basically 3 stages to "sight" (and any other senses): 1. the information the eyes gets (our retinas?) 2. the image our brains create from interpreting that information 3. us comprehending what we see

I personally think of "seeing" as at least level 2, but for the sake of this argument let's refer to seeing as level 1 and perception as 2 and 3 (separating them to perception and comprehension doesn't add much to the discussion) however I still think vision encapsulate the entire thing, so keep that in mind

if that's the case, I do understand why people claim that we can only "see" in 2D, because in a technical sense: one eye can only see a flat image

for example, if we have these 2 balls in front of us in a 3D space, we wont really be able to tell anything about their distance and size with just one eye

HOWEVER, and that's the thing I'm mainly getting at: we do have the ability to tell size and distance in real life! by this great thing calls "depth perception"

now this is not really a concept I can explain with images since they are inherently flat, but you probably know it already just think 3D glasses, VR, or even just look around in your room! our two eyes + our brain gives us the ability to tell the distance of things from us! you can theoretically map the objects around you on a 3D grid just from looking at them, and if that's not 3D vision and perception idk what is

well, actually, I did see a thing being argued that "3D vision means seeing all sides of an object + inside of it, which is what 4D creatures will see" so lets think about that for a second

this argument stems from the way we interact with the 2nd dimension

as all the flatlands lovers here know, when we look at a world of 2D creatures, we are able to see all of their sides, and their inside, so supposedly a 4D creature would be able to do the same for us

but that's where things gets interesting, so let's go deeper!

this usually comes up in order to say "this ability to see around and inside of an object defines what 2D vision is, and thus only 3D being can see 2D, while 2D beings can only see 1D" however, I don't think it has to do with sight at all! but rather with point of view and existing in a higher dimensional plane !

the special thing about us really is our ability to move on the Z axis and separate ourselves from the 2D plane, and thus get a fuller view! so this doesn't have anything to do with us "being limited to 2D" but rather with us being 3D creatures in a 3D world and 3D perception!!! so supposedly, a 4D creature would be in the same situation, having 3D retinas and an overall 4D vision and perception!

if we were to be on the flat plain along the other shapes, our vision isn't going to serve us much better than it does for the 2D creatures, the only additional thing we will be able to see is the Z axis, which isn't really relevant to 2D beings

so now raises the question: can 2D creatures see in 2D? don't they only see 1D? ( - a line ?)

I'm going to jump through some loops here so I need you to hold my hand and bare with me

lets say we have this triangular fella with one eye, the light information they are getting is linear, so basically a line (which is represented on the right)

now this is where I'm making a bit of a leap: will their vision have 2D depth? like we have?

think for a second of the way we see, technically, even the flat image our retinas see is based in some 3D: specifically, objects appear smaller as they are far away, lines wrap into a vanishing point in the horizon, stuff like that!

the 3D world around us is getting compressed into a flat image with perspective, which we can later decipher back into 3D using both our eyes !

and as you might have noticed, a similar thing is happening in our triangle friend's vision! even though both circles are the same size, the light blue circle is closer, and thus takes a much larger portion of their field of view!

unfortunately, as we have established before, while this is a result of depth, this isn't equivalent to depth perception, as our poor triangle cant tell anything about the distance of the circles! is that circle close to him? is that a giant far circle? who knows!

this is where having 2 eyes might help!

our other friend, the 2 eyed triangle, should in theory be able to have depth perception similarly to us, and thus perceive 2D visually!!

how specifically their brain interprets that information is beyond me, the changes in distance, size and angles/curves might be visible as color changes or even width

it's important to remember that since there's no defined "width" to the "line" of their vision, it's actually filling their entire field of view and perception of sight, so it's not like it's a line within a black void but more of the definition of everything, so when compared to our perception of sight it's something more like this:

and if you want to incorporate the idea of closer objects appearing larger in their perception, it might be something like this (for a bunch of random circles in different distances):

the main thing is, when we are trying to say 2D creatures can only see 1D, it's usually just because we think of "2D vision" as a matter of height and width, when it can actually just be depth and width, both of these are valid ways of representing 2 dimensions! because there are 2 dimensions represented ! it's just a matter of point of view!!

I don't think our ability to see 2D objects from all their sides at once is defining what counts as 2D vision, it's just a way to see it from further away, and without relaying on perspective I guess?

so I guess that's the thing really, the core of this discussion: does perspective count? I mean perspective is what makes the axis that's "forwards" accessible, distorting the size to substitute distance. supposedly, when we step back to look to look at a 2D world, we don't need any of that distortion, and we can easily see both the accurate size and the distance of objects, so does that mean our vision is superior? that it's actually true 2D?

in my opinion, the distortion of perspective doesn't take away from our vision, it's just a way to represent the forward axis! no matter how many dimensions you have, forwards is always the first dimension to exist, and while you are looking straight ahead at one dimension lower than you are, your over all vision consists of a stack of "straight ahead views" along the additional axis, which I consider as giving it it's missing dimension!!

trying to argue we can't perceive the world in the dimension we exist in doesn't make sense to me, we are 3D beings in a 3D world which we intuitively interact with! just like we can move around the 3D space and hear the direction sounds are coming from, I don't understand why vision should be limited to any less, and definitely not perception!

well that was fun! this is basically just a matter of semantics, but thinking and trying to analyze vision and different dimensions was just really interesting! and I hope it was interesting to read for you dear one person who read this! have a candy! 🍬 hopefully now that I release these thoughts into the world they won't hurt me as much !! time to dissolve i guess !

#I am looking for at one person to listen to me yap #please this is haunting me #overanalysis #bill cipher #euclydia #2 dimensions #3 dimensions #vision #physics #eye

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narcissistshandler · 1 year

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I don't know if you are taking requests for the spiderverse, if not you can ignore me, but if so could you write afab!hobie being eaten out for the first time by the reader?

𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝘼𝙂𝘼𝙄𝙉

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. gn!reader x hobie brown

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. afab!hobie brown, reader has no gender or genitals mentioned, clitoris/lips/folds words used to refer to hobie's genital organ, oral (reader giving), hobie having some insecure thoughts at first, virgin hobie(?)

✧ 𝖠/𝖭. I wrote this request in 30 minutes and honestly? Anxiety doesn't allow me to reread what I write many times, but I really liked it here and I can't stop rereading it, thanks for the request and trans people please feel free to correct me if this offends anyone, it's not my intention.

Heat warms Hobie's skin, making the clothes uncomfortable and the way you are positioned perfectly between his legs, kissing him while rocking your hips together doesn't help. He knows he's already wet from just that, you know it too, there's a stain getting bigger and darker on his pants.

Hobie can't decide whether or not he's glad he decided not to wear underwear today.

Your mouth pulls away, breaking the kiss. A magnet seems to pull your bodies together and neither of you makes a move to put an inch more than necessary between you. You both take a deep breath, seeking for oxygen against each other's lips. It's something simple, damn simple and yet, it makes that excitement bubble in his stomach.

So is this, Hobie thinks, what it feels like to be loved?

"I want to suck you," you say and Hobie's head spins. He must be crazy, he must be dreaming, completely out of his mind because there's no way you would want to touch his body in such a way, but then you're repeating, louder and clearer: "I want to put my mouth on you, I can?"

Hobie takes even deeper breaths, shivering. He thought about it over and over again, you between his legs, your fingers on him, your tongue... and maybe something else. But Hobie never genuinely clarified these desires, he joked and made innuendoed at times filled with an unusual sense of lack of confidence.

Your hands tightened firmly around his waist and you pulled away, now really putting some real distance between you. Hobie immediately grabbed the hands still on his waist, he didn't want you to leave but you just pulled away to get a real look into his eyes.

"You can say no if you don't want to, that's fine," you said.

"I want it," he admitted, feeling his black skin ignite. Hobie didn't know how to say he wanted this more than anything. "Put your mouth on me."

He had never done this before, no one had ever volunteered. You barely started taking his pants off and Hobie thought he was in heaven, that was it, you were his heaven.

The fresh air in the room made him more aware of the mess between his legs and Hobie made two feeble attempts to stop himself from covering his face; he needed to look at you, to know you were okay with this. You however looked mesmerized, hands stroking his tense thighs.

"You are breathtaking." There's pure adoration in your voice and Hobie feels himself tighten under your gaze.

Your fingers are careful but firm when touches his wet folds, Hobie moans at the feeling of someone else touching him in such an intimate place. Your fingers travel between the soft lips, running up and down unhurriedly, mapping his body, his reactions, before running the index finger over the swollen, sensitive clit, that throbs under your attention.

"Beautiful," you compliment, before warning, sounding so sweet and filthy at the same time: "I'm going to put my mouth on you now."

Hobie can't take his attention away from you as he tries to mentally prepare himself for what's to come next. But nothing can prepare him for the hot, devastating sensation that is when your mouth closes and your tongue slides against him for the first time. His legs start to shake, nothing in the world is enough to anchor him, his head falls against the pillow and Hobie faintly hears the sounds he's making.

You eat him, hungry and Hobie wishes he could immortalize this moment.

Your tongue exploring every fold and crevice, lapping up his intoxicating essence. Your moans mingle with his own, reverberating against his heat. Hobie's hand sneaks down to your head, fingers tangling in a painful tug in your hair, the hesitation fades and gives way to pleasure, the urge to take you deeper into his core. You oblige, thrusting your tongue inside him with fervor, swirling it around and curling against his lick walls.

With each flick of your tongue, each gentle bite of your teeth, Hobie shudders in delight, hips undulating against your face. He's loud, moaning, whimpering, saying something that could be your name or just a jumble of letters that seem to make sense. His scent, his taste, permeate your senses, is all Hobie can think of. Of you giving him such pleasure, of you seeming to enjoy it so much.

Mind spinning with ecstasy, body lost in a cacophony of moans and pleasured gasps, he doesn't notice the heat bubbling to bursting, doesn't notice the orgasm threatening to knock him out of consciousness. Hobie straddles your face, his wetness coating your lips, mingling with your saliva. His hips sway, grinding against your mouth as you eagerly lick and suck his swollen clit, helping him ride the pleasure.

His hands grip your hair, strong legs wrapped around your neck, pulling and tugging with each joyful spasm that wracks his body. He gasps as if it's hard to breathe and his orgasm seems to last forever.

At some point, your mouth left him and now your lips are on his sweaty neck and face, saying words Hobie can't understand, pressing your bodies so close while your skilled fingers tease and torment his clit, amplifying the waves of pleasure that goes through his body. You pleasure him until it's too much, until Hobie decides it's enough, the problem is he's afraid he wants it forever, him belonging to you, you touching him; over and over and over again.

#across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #sub character #x male reader #x reader #x gn reader

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theresattrpgforthat · 2 months

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Hello!

I've always wanted to do a stealth game/campaign, but all my attempts to hack it into DnD have failed. Do you have any suggestions for a stealthy system? Not something as abstract as Knives in the Dark (tbh, I just have never been able to get into it) but something that hits the Assassin's Creed feeling of watching the target, making a plan, and then sneaking through the base taking out guards and hiding their bodies and such. Preferably on a grid map or similar, s we're terrible at theatre of the mind.

Thanks!

THEME: Stealthy Games.

Hello there, so I did some digging and I found plenty of stealth games, although none of them seem to really require a map in order to play. That being said, I don’t think that should stop you from providing maps to your players, even if they’re abstract! Some of these games might ask you to sketch out a rough map of the town or building that you’re in, which may help you provide your players with some visual references as they sneak around, trying not to get caught. When it comes to stealth, I think of three things: horror, heists, and spies.

Delta Green, by Arc Dream Publishing.

Born of the U.S. government’s 1928 raid on the degenerate coastal town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts, the covert agency known as Delta Green opposes the forces of darkness with honor but without glory. Delta Green agents fight to save humanity from unnatural horrors—often at a shattering personal cost.

Delta Green comes highly recommended as a great way to play an X-Files type rpg, mixed in with the Cthulhu mythos. It uses a d100 system and is based in the modern day, casting your characters as former members of government agencies, recruited into a super-secret bureau that investigates supernatural things - and keeps those things hidden from the common public. The stealth of this game is mostly about covering up the eldritch and unnatural, even if it means framing someone else or condemning a beloved building.

Your characters in this game have some familiar pieces to them, such as six stats with the same titles as you’ll see in games like D&D. However, you’ll also have pieces like Bonds, which represent relationships that keep your character grounded, and a Sanity system that I’m personally not crazy about (I do not recommend this game for a group that doesn’t like trite mechanization of mental health disorders), but that gives you a way to incur penalties that aren’t just physical damage.

This looks to be the closest to a traditional rpg on this list, and with all the elements to keep track of, I can see how a physical map would be helpful. However, keep in mind that there isn’t a pace or speed stat attached to these characters, so things like line of sight or distance probably won’t be super granular - if you are shooting things you may have broad range bands to determine how difficult something is, but the final decision will be a GM decision, not something necessarily determined in the rulebook. Because the setting is a modern one, I think finding visual references for locations in this game would be very very easy.

If you want a taste of the game before you put your money down, you can check out the Free Starter Rulebook!

Minutes to Midnight, by Oliver S.

Minutes to Midnight is a game powered by Blades in the Dark about a crew of spies, trying to disrupt the balance of power in a modern cold war. They will have to stand strong in the face of their vicious opposition and handle a fragile web of untrustworthy informants, devious intrigues and deadly lies.

We play to find out if our agents can thrive in the cutthroat world of espionage. While the public may never know about their impact, their actions shape the political landscape and outcome of conflict. Will the players prevent the outbreak of a global disaster and use their influence to create a better future? Will they attempt to send the opposing bloc into a turmoil and establish a lasting hegemony? Or will their actions lead the world down a path of war and nuclear destruction?

The Forged in the Dark system uses a cycle in between missions and downtime, sinking your characters into the heart of the action as they pursue clandestine missions in locations built by the group in a session 0. Since the game takes place in the real world, using maps of real cities might be a great way to keep they players visually engaged, and using a city that the group has been to or is familiar with might also make it easier for the group to visualize the kinds of buildings and streets where their spies may be sneaking, scheming, and sleuthing.

Madstones, by xiombarg.

Those who know magic exists at all are the rich and teams of breakers like yourself that go into the jartowns for the Archons. Jartowns are created by burning folk alive in a wicker man, in a ritual known only to the oldest jet-setting Archons.

A jartown is an isolated area of spacetime that was cut out of our reality. Most jartowns consist of a small amount of space (enough for a suburb or town) and a loop of several years. Jartowns become more magickal and horrific with each loop, creating madstones.

Madstones are small things, from actual stones to human organs, infused with concentrated, distilled magic. They're secretly coveted by the wealthy.

In this tiny 24XX-based tabletop RPG, players are breakers, desperate folk from the occult underground who find a way into the jartowns, hothouses for magick, to perform errands for the ultrarich Archons.

Play as a variety of roles, from sawbones to sinner to spook, and choose to hail from one of four origins, including jartown native.

24XX games are another toolbox that you can pick up and play around with to help you get started with creating your own experiences. Your character consists of a few skills and gear packaged together in a character class. In Madstones, these classes are various specialists, trained to deal with different elements that might pop up when you go delving into eldritch pockets of reality. There is both a stealth and a combat specialist in this game, but there’s also classes for things like a getaway driver, a hacker, and an occult specialist.

24XX games also exist because of their OSR predecessors, meaning that combat is risky, and often deadly - and therefore finding other ways to solve the problem is implicitly encouraged. However, the openness of the system means that your players don’t necessarily need to resort to stealth - they might prepare an elaborate ritual, create a unique piece of technology, or just decide to run away as fast as they can. In regards to maps, I think you could probably use a typical dungeon framework: leading the characters through various rooms or sections of the pocket dimension, and throwing horrors and weird environments their way.

Night’s Black Agents, by Pelgrane Press.

The Cold War is over. Bush’s War is winding down. You were a shadowy soldier in those fights, trained to move through the secret world: deniable and deadly.

Then you got out, or you got shut out, or you got burned out. You didn’t come in from the cold. Instead, you found your own entrances into Europe’s clandestine networks of power and crime. You did a few ops, and you asked even fewer questions. Who gave you that job in Prague? Who paid for your silence in that Swiss account? You told yourself it didn’t matter. It turned out to matter a lot. Because it turned out you were working for vampires.

Vampires exist. What can they do? Who do they own? Where is safe? You don’t know those answers yet. So you’d better start asking questions. You have to trace the bloodsuckers’ operations, penetrate their networks, follow their trail, and target their weak points. Because if you don’t hunt them, they will hunt you. And they will kill you.

A combination of modern spy fiction and vampire intrigue, Night’s Black Agents uses the GUMSHOE system, which is an investigative roleplaying system that provides your characters with resources they can spend to get into secret locations, compete against vampiric agents, and pick up information to help you put together the details of a conspiracy. In Night’s Black Agents, finding clues isn’t left up to chance - you will always get information as long as you tell the GM that you’re using a relevant skill. The obstacles in this game are more likely going to involve getting in and out of sticky situations - and if your opponents are vampires, well, stealth is likely going to be a more appealing than trying to slit their throats.

GUMSHOE games don’t need grid maps either, but a rough map of the city or country is probably very helpful, and it might be fun to draw the floor plans of various buildings that your players investigate in order to help them determine what areas may be the most interesting places to search for clues.

The Breathing, by Fistful of Crits.

You reside in The Archive, an unending and depthless structure spiralling deep into the dark and misty depths, devoid of life and presided over by a being known only to you as The Archivist.

The Archive is made up of windowless rooms and halls that vary greatly in their height, size and danger. All these spaces house numerous shelves containing the collected knowledge of the world outside of The Archive; a place you have been told you must earn your access to. The price of your freedom comes from the discovery of new or forgotten knowledge that can be found in the deepest parts of the structure.

You, and a few others, are known as The Breathing, in a place full of creatures who were once like you but ultimately failed in their bid for freedom; now known as The Breathless.

The Breathing is just an example of a broader style of game, using a system called Breathless. Breathless games use a series of polyhedral dice that deteriorate as you use them, with different dice attached to different skills. Throughout the game you pause to “take a breath”, and re-set your skills, bringing your dice back to their threshold. However, pausing to take a breath also gives the GM a chance to introduce a new trouble or complication, creating a cycle of mission, rest, mission, rest, etc.

As a game system, Breathless is pretty light and is fairly easy to hack. But the lightness of the rules also allows for creativity and add-ons, which could include rules for movement or placement. Since the game rewards finding ways to solve problems without having to resort to direct conflict, I can see games like this encouraging characters to think carefully about when to use their resources and when to just… sneak around the problem. If you want to include maps and a grid, you could provide a blueprint of a room inside The Archive and watch the players try to navigate it using their limited resources, with designated “rest areas” that they would have to get to in order to take a Breath.

This certainly isn’t a solution in a box, but it might provide some interesting tools to help you build the experience you’re looking for.

Night Reign, by Sinister Beard Games.

Night Reign is a roleplaying game of stealth, guile, violence and devilry for a GM and one or more players, set in a quasi-Edwardian metropolis perched on an inhospitable peninsula beset by toxic black rain and ruled by a corrupt cabal of Noble Houses.

You take the role of members of The Red Right Hand, a conspiracy loyal to the recently deposed royal family, using your talents in assassination, infiltration and dark sorcery to strike out at your oppressors.

A game all about the things you do in the shadows, Night Reign uses cards to resolve conflict, rather than dice. It also uses a token system to help you overcome obstacles without having to resort to violence - loud, messy, dangerous violence. The Ruled by Night system (which has an SRD that you can download for free) is about balancing the suspicion you’ve already raised against an increasing cost to being stealthy. You spend Shadow tokens in order to be able to attempt to do something, and try to get a hand as close as possible to 21, or at least higher than whatever the GM draws. Your characters will also have powers that can be very effective, but are likely to draw a lot of attention, so using them is risky.

Because of how this game runs, things like movement and speed are not likely to be tracked. However, I don’t think mapping out a location so that the players can understand where things are or what kind of space they’re in is going to hurt the experience. The SRD describes something called City Conditions, which appear to be elements of the fiction that might result from the characters’ choices, or provide obstacles to the players. If you have a map of the city in front of you, you could draw symbols on the map to indicate what’s happening as the story progresses, and even cross out places that have been destroyed.

Heist, by Hark Forsooth Games.

HEIST: Get the Crew Together is a cooperative RPG where you and a group of suave, savvy and slick fellow crooks plan and execute capers, grabbing the fanciest loot from the world's wealthy elite.

Heist is great for fans of shows like Leverage or movies like Ocean’s 11: you’re going to steal something shiny from someone who certainly doesn’t deserve it, and you’re going to do it with style. While combat is an option, your characters will also have to deal with suspicious marks, security systems, laser grids and bank vaults. The characters are composed of special talents and personal flaws, and the GM has the task of designing something the game calls Murphy’s Gun - a major twist that will reveal itself midway through the heist.

It can be tricky to determine what to prep for a game like this, but one thing that you can for sure prep is the location. Design the building, draw the floor plan, and come up with obstacles for the different areas - there’s not really movement tracking in this game but having the layout will certainly help your players come up with ideas about how to get in, get out, and get rich.

Another thing to consider…

Mothership doesn’t have any stealth skills, but what it does have is the incentive to be sneaky. If an alien horror is moving through the ship, you’re more likely to try and stay out of it’s way - and having no stealth skills means that the players have to describe what they’re doing to stay hidden; climb into vents, squeeze yourself into cupboards, and try to wriggle into the space suit. However, this doesn’t mean that you’re not rolling - you might roll to clamber over something or to fit yourself into something, or you might roll to scope out a location to find an exit or suitable hiding place. It’s also excellent in terms of maps - plenty of adventures will provide at least a blueprint of the space station or ship that you’re exploring, which you can use to spook your players with fresh horrors.

#stealth #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year

Text

A (Partial, Hypothetical) Map of the

Arachno-Humanoid PolyMultiverse

[A slightly MEDIUM length post where I mapped out and explain the positions of the different universes we see in ATSV -

and how those distances can effect everything to travel time - to the reason why Miles got bitten (maybe..based on my charting and data)]

Did I use common grouping and graphing to make a connectivity map of the universes within the Arachno-Humanoid-PolyMultiverse based on common attributes and similarities?

Why no - I didn't. Lyla gave me this map this morning. So there. _______________________________________

You know what pisses me off? ATSV showing us amazing ass things and then not stopping to explain them at all. Lucky for them, I have autism, a keyboard, and way too much time. So allow me.

'This is Everything': Okay but what is it?

The Spider-verse series is like an expert at going 'this is super interesting but i also I refuse to explain'

But one thing I've always found this SUPER interesting - The Portals. Because LOOK AT THEM. Like... the watch is creating a channel along a set path! It has velocity! How fast are they going? How far?!!

In lots of other Marvel movies like Doctor Strange, teleportation between universes is instantaneous. This is true for a lot of sci-fi.

However, for Spider-verse, they chose something different.

We see them flying and falling through portals, many of them twisting and turning. And it got me thinking -

If they're flying from point A to point B - Doesn't that imply that the universes have set locations - with measurable, varying distance between them?

And if so - how close are they together? Does it always take the same amount of time? Are some too far to get to without jumping to a closer location first?

So many possibilities! I was so curious to make sense of this. How does the watch KNOW where to go? Where every universe is?

The Solution:

I realized that each universe has similarities - and if similarity = proximity, there could be a way to map the universes by asking three simple questions:

Are they in the modern era? Are they in New York - or something like it? Are they stylized?

And what I got was a map that actually explains some very interesting things in the movie! (If you play by my logic, lol)

Graph Breakdown : How to read

[Explainer and breakdown below the cut PLUS a clearer version - so you can map out your sona!]

The graph is made up of two different points - Cluster Centers & Universes:

The Three Clusters: Location, Time, & Style

Cluster Centers are specific attributes that universes share, and these attributes clump similar universes together, shortening the distance between them.

There are 3 cluster centers, based on the three questions:

The Time Desynchronization Cluster: For universes that exist outside of the modern era The Stylization Cluster: For universes with artistic stylization The New York Cluster: For universes in which the Spider-person is based in New York, or a rendition of it.

These clusters are arranged in a triangle with sides of equal length.

Then, a universe is placed on the map based on whether they fit the criteria and how much they fit the criteria.

How much they fit each criteria determines each universe's proximity to each other, and the pathways the watches will take to get from location to location as quick as possible.

For example:

Plotting Universes: Distances & Changes

Using these three Clusters, we can plot almost any Spider-person or Spidersona on the map!

Universes that share attributes and clusters are closer together, shortening the distance and time it takes to complete jumps.

In addition, universes with lots of cluster connections and nearby universes are considered more stable, the strands of the web closer together, and quicker in general.

And just for reference:

The places in which the universes' lines cross are common canon events they share.

Looking at the plotted Universes, we can see some cool things about how they work:

[My lovely OC's, DiscoSpider Diane and Inca-Spider Moche plotted as examples]

The proximity matters in context too! And it seems to effect a lot of things - like observably in the movie.

The closeness of two universes, can possibly explain the time it takes to get there, why some people fall into other universes, and how easy it is to assimilate into another's universe.

Some cool things to note:

Gwen and Miles' universes are next to each other. Which could explain how she fell into his world. Gwen is way more stylized than Miles, so she's closer to that Cluster than he is.

Peter's universe (not charted..lol) would be next to Miles' & Pavitrs - which also explains his involvement in ITSV.

Noir, Spider-Ham, and Peni Parker would all be close-by as well.

Miles and Pavi's universes are next to each other. Miles & Pavi share all three attributes. Because of this, Miles and Pavi's universes are right next to each other. Which could be why Gwen & Miles' jump to Mumbattan is very short and quick.

Pavi's universe is next to HQ. Pavi is modern, low-stylization, and based in a New York adjacent city. This is true for Miguel too, however, he's in 2099, desynchronized from time. Them being right next to each other could explain how so many members of the Spider Society arrived to Mumbattan quickly to contain the anomaly - as all they would need to do is traverse the time difference.

The stylized characters are charted 'most stylized' to least - left to right, based on medium/inspo: Gwen being first (watercolor), then Hobie (collages of prints, text, and real people), and then Noir (completely shaded with no color, but based off of live-action films), then Patrick a.k.a Webslinger (based on live-action Westerns).

Because of this layout, Hobie's universe borders Gwen's. This could explain how Gwen stayed at his place without being noticed for her differing style (which - as we see with Miles and Spider-Ham, would be obvious). But Gwen universe being nearby, could be why she didn't stand out too much.

Hobie's universe borders Noir's. This is very cute. I love them. Happy feelings.

Noir's universe borders Diane's. Because they both live in New York, and are desynchronized from time (Noir being 1933, and Diane 1982) - Noir and Diane's universe sit next to each other. This makes a lot of sense - Noir's world is perpetually white and black - literally 'noir', while Diane's world lacks a day-cycle, making it always night-time.

Because they share these attributes with Miguel as well - Nueva York, 2099 - Noir and Diane actually live 'closest' to campus, along with Pavitr third.

Despite both being O'hara's, Patrick's universe is REALLY far from Miguel's. This is because WebSlinger's universe is time desynchronized in the opposite direction, very far in the past. He's also stylized - and he lives in the Wild West, not New York. Hence the distance.

As is Moche's - Miguel's wife. Like Miguel, Moche lives in a time desynchronized universe (his 2099, hers 1992) - however Moche is from Peru, hence why her and Patrick are the farthest from the New York Cluster. Moche's world is stylized as photorealistic, moreso than Miles, so she's the farthest from that cluster as well.

Miles' and Wiles' universes would be almost directly next to each other - which explains the spider-bite and the fact Miles' DNA changed so easily. Not all variants are next to each other though - Hobie's 616 Prowler variant is actually pretty far from his.

Uhhh...yeah, I think that's everything. But mind you - that's only a two dimensional slice of THIS

Hopefully I was able to decode like 0.0001% of it.

This is all speculation and my imagination, But what came out of it is INTERESTING AS HELL TO ME. Writers...pleasee...feed me more random stills in which I can consume.

Also Miguel if you're reading this please hire me I have a degree in Archnohumanoid Poly-Multiversal Research that's good for nothing and I desperately need a job-

________________________________

I hope you liked this and this made sense! It was just a fun little experiment to do that turned out to be REALLY interesting to chart out/decipher.

Lemme know what you think about how it all works and stuff and what you think of this!

If you made it this far! Thank you so much!! SERIOUSLY THANK YOU

Here's a copy of the map with smaller universes, so you can slot in your own sonas! Plus, a pic of Hobie for your troubles.

His eyes are so pretty. Can you believe he's in love with my Spidersona thats crazzzyy

Bye.

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rise-my-angel · 9 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

32 - Peeking the Realms Woes

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 15.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, body shaming, derogatory language, mild descriptions of blood and gore, references to past torture/rape, past character death, smut, public sex, p in v, slight exhibitionism

Notes: If you're hungry for extra content, at the top of the masterlist there are 4 oneshots which are side companion pieces. All canon to the plot but just did not fit into any main story chapter. There's 2 prequel esque chapters, one smut based chapter set in an ambiguous point in the story, and a nsfw alphabet. Just if anyone's curious! Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You had never walked and travelled lands as something called a Queen in any times but war. Not for a second in the Westlands did you nor Robb go anywhere without a number of guard, being in war torn enemy territory. But you also had an army camp anywhere between twenty to thirty thousand depending on where exactly your men were stationed at. You were always around a vast number of soldiers and guard.

In a similar fashion, you were somewhat used to it in Kings Landing. Either you had a flock of hens chattering about behind you at Cersei's insistence of giving you handmaidens. Or you had a guard with you most typically when travelling the streets beyond the Red Keep to the docks and waters but you also lived in a city with what now was likely close to a million people. It was normal to have a guard of at least one.

But here? In the North? It was odd. Trying to implore them to keep their distance most of the time as you appreciated the quiet. Jon had discussed it with Theon, where he felt he fit here now more and gave him his full trust to lead as the Queen's Captain of the Guard. Acting the one in charge knowing exactly when to force them to give you that quiet. It was not a long trip to get here, leaving early and not caring to stop until you reached it, but as soon as you did, they were allowed to stay guard and keep their eyes out but you were thankful Theon knew to force them to give space to what was unfolding.

The raven was simple, coming from Castle Black addressed to you specifically and the moment you had read it, a weight hit you once more. Looking at maps of the land to connect the paths of where exactly to go, knowing it would be a rather simple path to get there if they let you go at the speed you needed to get there quick. Jon was the one who insisted to send people with you, and Theon recognizing the protest about to come from you as he spoke up about gathering a few guards and himself. You had leaned somewhat against the table in a moment alone with a playful raise of one eyebrow, “I know it is a hard thing for you to imagine, but I think I can manage one teenage boy on my own.”

He had all but yanked you into his front at that one, a dark tease in his eyes with a tone that of an playful condescension. “How well did that go for you, when I was the teenage boy?”

Crossing your arms best you could in the space between you, your tone was flat and almost made the playfulness in his grow. “Most boys don't throw girls up against trees to ravage them.” Narrowing his own eyes he leaned down more into your face, feeling his breath dance along his skin as he questioned the word ravage. It was your turn to smirk as his face fell flat. “Oh, so if that wasn't my first kiss you're saying you would have had the restraint not to do anything more?”

His silence almost made you laugh, both of you knowing Jon had no rebuttal to such an accusation.

But it was now as you slowly walked through the snow looking at the remains of once was, and you once more could envision exactly what had taken place here. You knew too well what war looked like and it was easy to see how such a simple village was left in tatters and the remains frozen in time to remind of the pain. If any but him had been left alive, they ran and never returned to this place.

The homes were all small and quaint, much of the decaying remains of tools and lands told you much of their lives and work were outdoors together as a community instead of singular. It made it easy to target, and you knew that's why it would have been picked. It was a village of innocent people and such an atrocity was supposed to draw the Nights Watch out, as was the attack on Mole's Town.

Slaughter innocents to draw the good men out to avenge them, but they knew better and forced the wildling group to them instead. A fight which beyond North was stopped before it ever began with the help of the Baratheon army, but it was Jon's leadership that held off the entire fight from ending before it begun with the ones coming south.

But, that didn't mean the cost of getting them there wasn't devastating.

By the time you had seen Olly, you had such an imagine painted that you knew only agony would be across his heart once reaching where he stood. His back to you as there was one area he hadn't moved from since you arrived, and his eyes likely rarely blinked looking to it. Not easy to see through the snow and ice covering, but it was the remains of bodies. Winter had encroached on them early and what should have decayed to bones was left stuck frozen and the evidence of their use haunting.

No doubt he heard you approach, but it was his pain to address, not yours to guide. You dared not think about how long he had been here waiting, or the heaviness in your heart at how he knew you would come without question. Coming up to his side, you stood close and watched as he did. He had told you what the threat one of them made was, and the degree of mutilation you knew in some mercy was done after death. Easier to carve into a body to eat if they aren't alive to fight back.

You were both quiet for a long time, and when words finally spoke, it was with a shaking breathe stemming from such a heavy heart did Olly finally find the right words to form. “He wasn't the first person I killed.” Your face didn't shift at all, but he knew to elaborate anyways. “Jon. He was the first that meant anything to me...but I killed someone before. The woman who killed my father.”

His eyes were filled already with tears wanting to fall and no doubt the crack in his voice as he continued, threatened to extend to such watering. “None of us knew they were even there until she killed him. Fell to the ground right beside me, he was already dead before I even knew what had happened to him..and then I looked over and saw her..there was nothing. Nothing in her eyes, she shot him in the neck and didn't even care one bit about it. Just moved on to everyone else..”

Stepping forward, Olly knelt down to the frozen pile as you stepped with him, kneeling as well to stay right by his side with a dutifully quiet listening. “The last thing my mother ever said to me, she just looked at me yelled for me to hide, kept telling me to hide and the second I ran..I didn't see them do it but I heard her scream..”

His hand reached out to something, running over the snow before dropping down now as the tears let themselves fall loose along his cheek. “They attacked us at Castle Black and I shot arrows into her back. I was scared the whole fight..but then I saw her, holding an arrow up and she was going to kill Jon..but then he saw me, and he trusted me to do it. He trusted me to save his life that night, and that was how I repayed her. I wanted her to know what it felt like, the way my father died not seeing it coming..but it didn't hurt. It didn't feel bad not the way it felt when..” His cracked voice fading away, you both knew the words going unsaid.

You looked over to him, eyes flickering away narrowed in thought before looking back. You knew Olly could see you were looking at him, but you didn't beckon him to face you. “I didn't know anything about the first man I killed.” His brows narrowed but he wiped at his tears with the back of his hand but more came anyways in small, silent drops. “Didn't know his name, who he was, barley what he looked like.” Finally his head turned to yours, and there was a long passed distance in your eyes fading out. “I shoved a dagger into his neck and after he fell to the ground, I never thought about him again.” Asking why, you inhaled before looking back to the sight in front of you both.

It had been a long time since you thought about what happened that day. It felt like nothing compared to the ones which followed suit. “They attacked us first. Lord Stark, his men, we were all attacked in the streets of the capitol and the only people we killed attacked us first. They killed three of his own guard that day, men I knew for years. They attacked us, and after I killed one of them another shoved a spear through Lord Stark's leg and everything after that only ever got worse. I didn't think about the fact that I had killed someone until after we had won our first battle. I never thought about that man again after everything else I did. Until right now.”

The winds around you two blew quietly, brushing your exposed faces with dustings of snow picked up from the ground and flying through the air to a new destination. “You were defending yourself.”

“And you were defending Jon, and avenging your family.” Olly exhaled shakily, before nodding a bit. “We all do bad things, but those bad thing's aren't all equal in nature. You don't feel bad for killing her because you were righting the horrible wrong she did to you. But you feel bad for what you did to Jon, because you always knew that was wrong.” He didn't move away as you slowly let your hand sit comfortingly in the middle of his upper back, “We can't pick and choose what we feel guilty for, but the ones that we do is what defines us. You aren't a bad person because you don't feel guilty for killing her, and you aren't one for being forced to kill someone because Ser Alliser made you. People have done far worse in this world then you'll achieve in your lifetime.”

The winds sat between you once more until his voice was but a whisper, “You said that I didn't need to forgive them for what they did..but I would have to learn to live with them..” You nodded, waiting for the detached thoughts to assemble together in his mind. “I don't know if I'm ready for that..but if I stay at Castle Black I'll never know.”

“We can only try. I'm not asking you to make promises, only that you do your best and tell me when it's getting difficult.” Moving your arm across his shoulders, you pulled him more into your side, running that hand up and down what you could reach of his upper arm. “That and perhaps not to get too friendly with knives when alone with the King.”

Olly choked out a laugh as he leaned into you with an exhaustion. You both sat for a good while, as the boy found no energy in him to move anymore. “The snow is too heavy to bury them.”

Nodding, your voice was soft, “So we burn them. Do your mother and father one last thing, and not leave them here like this. We won't leave them to come back when the storm does.” Olly didn't move to get up, but he nodded his head. You wouldn't get up until he was ready. It was his parents he was looking for, and until he was ready to look away once he found them the two of you would sit there.

“Why do you want me around? After what I did..”

A smile easily sat gentle on your face, pulling him a bit closer. “I could ask you the same question.”

Olly's answer though, smacked right into your heart almost making you want to feel those tears sting behind your eyes. “My mother would have liked you.” You didn't need him to elaborate, you understood that with a tightening in your heart right away. Your eyes now watering without letting them drop.

Whispering in a strained silence only for him, “And she wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for a mistake. So I won't either.” Prompting him to stand as soon as he found the strength to sit back up properly, “Now we give them a proper funeral, and tomorrow you start fresh.”

No one helped you both, but you had given Theon a shake of your head when he moved to ask and he told the rest to leave you both be. He had told you that boy admires you, but Theon watched and came to the same conclusion you previously did. That maybe, you were just the closest thing to a mother Olly had left. Theon also didn't say it, but he certainly noticed how easily acting as one, fell upon your shoulders.

Certain things were undeniable sore spots for many of you now, and breaching such topics tended to mostly be spat between the two of you in jokes. It was easier to cope with what had happened to both of you if you joked about it, but certain ones he still didn't know how to bring up. It didn't pass your notice or Theon's that neither of you came anywhere near any kind of joke or insult coming close to a topic remotely sexual.

You two never had any actual attraction or interest. It was always from jokes in origin. You were pretty and innocent but short tempered and rigid. Theon was older, had a mighty appetite for women and knew you heard every time he snuck girls and whores into his chambers. He'd make a pass at you, you'd refute it with a clever comment and thus back and forth it became a game of wits to who could out sass the other.

Sex was just something you both were opposite about, and it made joking about it between you both far easier then Theon would ever get along with other girls. You never wanted him, he never wanted you and so flirting with you was safe, beacuse you both knew it meant not a thing. Jon had once joked, asking you if you shared that small corridor with Theon, how did you still know so little about sex. All three of them, Jon, Theon, and Robb all laughed at how flustered and offended you got. Saying you didn't actually listen you just heard it incidentally.

But, not once did anything close to subjects like that come up anymore. Not in jokes. Not towards you, and not about Theon's activities. Or lack thereof, now. You and Maester Wolkan were the only ones left who knew about it. Wolkan needed to know, he was the Maester of Winterfell now under Jon and when discussing his health, it had to be known. But you, not once did you ever bring it up. And he was grateful for it.

You weren't there for what happened to him, and he was glad of it. It was an indescribable memory that he some days couldn't piece together. He had meekly begged Ramsay to kill him after, and for a long time he still wished he would. But it got, not easier, but he had learned to cope with it as it would never change. Then Ramsay showed him you in the dungeons.

Theon knew why he was to be the one to serve you in Winterfell. Ramsay wanted him to get used to being around you, so that it would be a horrible shock the day he was dragged into what was being used as your chambers. And the sickening image he recalled, the extent of how violent it had gotten. Images that haunted Theon to the present. It was first night Ramsay made you and Theon watch each others eyes as he did what he did to you. And he only dragged Theon to watch the more Ramsay's appetite for cruelty towards you grew.

He purposely didn't tell Jon about a lot of the things done to you. Really, he had told Jon the truth of what happened to you, but he didn't tell him anywhere near the worst of it. He didn't know how to say it, and Theon knew that you still hadn't told Jon the worst of it, either.

If Theon were to be honest, it was clear that had Jon known the true extent of vile things Ramsay had done to you, he would've beaten him to death in the courtyard that very day they reclaimed Winterfell.

They weren't sights he liked looking back on, he knew it was to torture you as much as it was to torment Theon but it certainly stuck in his mind in the worst way possible. Ramsay had once mocked him about when men lose an arm or a leg and getting a phantom itch where it used to be. Asking if he would feel it now when seeing a naked girl, and he decided it seemed to test such a question out on you.

But he didn't feel that, he didn't look at you in that manner before, and now still he didn't see anything any mind could attain something good from, only horror. It wasn't until Winterfell too, did Theon for the first time find a reason to be thankful for being cut as such. Ramsay's voice so clear in his mind as he was forced to watch one night. You had been in a mood, and thrown a small mirror at Ramsay that smashed into pieces. So the Bolton stripped you down bare and let the broken shards cut into you as he did what he did, grinning at Theon the whole time.

“Maybe once upon a time, I would have made you do this part Reek, have you bond with my bride.”

He wouldn't be able to even look Jon in the eye had it come to that. He didn't know if he could even live with himself if he was to do something like that. He was Ironborn, rape and raid and all as such but that wasn't who Theon was in his blood, and that wasn't the man Eddard Stark raised him to be. So in that very home he once foolishly thought was the true prison, had to stand and watch it happen to you and be selfishly thankful that he was so mutilated that he wouldn't be able to be forced to help.

It was easy for you to joke about things before. What he did before Ramsay, it was so long passed that the transgressions were all but gone in your eyes. To you, if you both joked about it, people wouldn't look at him as if they should still hate him. He still wasn't sure how to thank you for that, nor if you would even want that. Very likely you would tell him to be quiet and go do something else if he tried to thank you.

You two used to hate each other too. Terribly hate one another. Your first week in Winterfell after Theon had been there, and as soon as he realized you were the daughter of Stannis Baratheon did he ever ramp up how rude he was. Didn't matter to him that you were younger and short and a girl, you were the daughter of the man who destroyed his uncle's fleet, and you had a smart ass mouth that he wanted to punch.

He could still see back one day he, Robb, and Jon were attending to something in the stables when you had thrown the door open and threw something at him hard. Jon had to grab him to stop him from instinctively going to hit you back, as you had yelled at Theon for something he now couldn't even recall. He yelled back and soon everyone came to see what was wrong, you got flustered at the attention, shoving passed everyone to leave when the amount of eyes grew. Robb left to go calm you down and shoved Theon into the wall in frustration as he passed.

Lord Stark had later, made you both sit down in his study side by side to force you both to grow up. He had told you that you could not come in and let your temper out on people and if you needed to have an outlet, “Pick up a practice sword in the training yard, and don't return until you're sure you aren't going to try to stab Theon with it.”

On his own, Lord Stark had told him to ease up on you. Robb and Jon had known you for six years at that point and were very close, they knew you well enough to tease. But also that while all three of them were verging on men, you had only recently had your fourteenth name day, that you were still little more then a child. Theon had grumbled, “Doesn't talk to me like one...”

But the man had only chuckled, he too had known you for those same six years and had watched you slowly grow out of your shell tremendously from that very first month. “I'm not asking you to be friends with her, I'm telling you that you both will need to find a way to tolerate the other's existence. You both will be working closely together from now on, and I'd rather not assign a guard to watch you both every moment of the day.”

He had gone back out to the yard, where you and Robb had started to spar. Trying to get your worked up energy out on something useful, and there you were laughing and smiling the more you and the eldest Stark would go. He would compliment how much better you had gotten, and he saw nothing of the bitter, dry and sarcastic little bitch he had initially thought you of.

Now however, watching you with the guard from afar, your eyes soft as your expression was the same harsh and still as ever, but you had your arm comfortingly around Olly, who was leaning into you with shaking shoulders Theon knew were tears. And not for a second did you try to make him feel better or even tell him it would be okay. You were exactly what the boy needed you to be in that moment. This was the village that was ruined in seconds and you stood with him in the cold snow as long as it took for the fire to take what was left of the frozen bodies of his parents and home.

Olly didn't talk to much of anyone as you all made your way to Winterfell. No one asked why an orphan boy from the Night's Watch was leaving there with you, and if the space given to you both as you came into the courtyard said anything, they were smart enough to not speculate either. It wasn't anything they would guess, you were certain of that. No one guessed it, and some days neither you nor the boy himself could believe what led him here.

But there was one thing to do, once you got him settled, notably getting him used to his quarters and around the castle as if a mother would, but if he was to be here, there was one person he needed to talk to. And he had avoided that conversation since the day he ascended the steps from the Ice Cells.

It was the Lord Commander he helped murder, but now it was the King in the North he was to answer too. But as you made your way to give them privacy, Olly had hesitated to speak up asking you to stay before realizing it was not his place. Jon however, caught it well and nodded for you to stay with not a shred of ire or blame in his eyes.

You'd seen the raging red and intense violence that could brew in Jon Snow's eyes but not for a second was such emotions and aggression directed at a child. That wasn't who he was, he in his blood without having to even try, was the man always on the front to protect the innocent.

Including the innocence of a child manipulated into doing something monstrous.

Samwell Tarly could recall a day when one of his brothers had asked him if he had ever dreamt of being back home since arriving at Castle Black, and his answer was blunt as he could have made it. “No, I hated it there.” And it wasn't anywhere near a lie, but it was so much more complicated then that.

No matter what good remained in his memories of home, it was still a place that he resented. He resented the torment, he resented being forced to leave, and he resented that he had to leave a second time all because once more his father refused to see anything worthwhile in him.

He had introduced himself that first day in Castle Black, as if it meant anything to those already looking at him with judging amusement in their eyes. Told to let them know what his name was, and he gave the proper greeting he was raised to introduce himself as only the shaking nerves made it sound pathetic as he spat it out, and rambled further.

“Samwell Tarly, of Horn Hill. I mean, I was of Horn Hill..I've come to take the black..”

Only to have the first thing he heard from any of their mouths, was the spitting Rast laughing to himself, “Come to take the black pudding,” Truly in those first few days Sam was sure his life had gone from one kind of bad to a new without anything to look forward too. Ser Alliser mocked him, encouraged others to mock him, and looked forward to making his recruits knock him into the dirt.

One had stood up in his defence, angry and shoving him away from them all once he grabbed him off the ground. Fighting against the rest of them when Ser Alliser demanded it, and turned around scolding him that it wasn't about to get easier. It was the first time someone had truly come to Sams defence without any expectation in return, and it was a bit off putting to Sam how rough and stern he was about it though. He was so sure, when he was assigned as the mans watch partner up on the Wall, that he hated him, and would rather have nothing to do with him.

Part of it was not being comfortable around such heights, but when he was told to come stand by the fire, Sam didn't want to. He was freezing, but standing by the fire meant having to come closer and annoy the one person who had done something nice for him, so he lied.

Only, it was never that easy trying to lie to someone like Jon Snow.

He said he was fine, and Jon without missing a beat turned to him, “You're not. You're freezing.” After that night, it got easier. A lot easier. He found people and purpose and confidence and a true bravery, he had begun to feel pride in who he had become at the Night's Watch.

But then Jon was Lord Commander, and had returned from Hardhome seeing horrors beyond anything Sam imagined once possible as a boy. Much happened at once, Jon with the intention of opening the gates to let the free folk through, but before that, had told Sam he was sending him to the Citadel.

Maester Aemon was very sick by then, and very old and Jon seemed to decide to utilize Sam's love for learning for the better. Despite the fact that Sam knew too well, Jon had next to no one left. Sure he had Ghost, he had Edd, and the large one Tormund seemed fond of him, but Jon had no family left, no home, most of his friends were dead, and half a year later, Jon still hadn't said more then a few words about you.

He wanted to stay, to not be another person forced to leave Jons life, but it wasn't Sams choice. It was Jons. And he sent him, Gilly and Little Sam to Eastwatch by the Sea anyways. After getting on a ship, it was a port stop in Bravvos with more adventures there then he ever wanted, and finally before settling into Oldtown, Sam knew he had one more stop.

He had to go back to Horn Hill.

Sam had hoped that perhaps the many years since he had left, may have softened his father's ire towards him. His mother Melessa at least, had taken one look at Sam and smiled so brightly he could have cried, a laugh at how good he looked, and how healthy he looked.

Then when introducing Little Sam, an easier explanation to hide where Gilly had come from they told his family he was his bastard son. It was less complicated if they thought he was his blood, even though at that point in Sam's life, he knew what people would think about a man of the Nights Watch with a newborn. But Melessa had adored Little Sam, not once cared for any of the implications one way or another, merely excited to have a grandchild and meet the girl who wooed her son.

Talla was so much older now, while adulthood hadn't changed much in Sam it had made his sister go from a girl to almost a woman, one of the first things from her mouth, “Father says I have to marry Symun Fossoway. He has yellow teeth-” Considering the life he and Gilly had just come from, it was almost sweet she complained it to Sam as if it were the worst to happen to her.

His father and brother were on a hunt, and for only a moment as his mother told him, it made Sam swallow in nerves. He doubted his father had ever told his wife what his plans for Sam were.

“You're almost a man now, but you are not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the black. Forsake all claim to your inheritance and start north. If you do not, then we'll have a hunt. And somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die...or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more.”

But he was doing this not for himself, he needed this to work. He needed his father to accept Gilly, accept Little Sam so they could have a life. Little Sam would have a better education then Gilly knew she could give him, still on her own reading journey she wasn't anywhere near a teaching level.

He needed his father to look past Sam's own shortcomings just this once. Let them stay, and Gilly wouldn't have to work in a brothel cleaning after women who all called her a “wildling bitch”. She wouldn't be working in Castle Black where at any time they could corner her alone, the worst of his brothers would attack her for being nothing but a woman. They would be safe.

Talla and Melessa had brought them both inside, the former sharing ideas of what guest room Gilly could have as if she had any concept of the luxury being offered. His mother warming his heart, telling him quietly that she couldn't be happier seeing her son with something so proud to look at. But then his father and brother came home.

Dickon wasn't as openly gleeful like his mother and sister, but Sam also knew that the two brothers were indeed happy about to see one another. Dickon had accepted the explanation, and begun going over things on his mind as if no time between all these years had passed. He was tall, strong, capable, and skilled just like his father but he had, like Sam, inherited their mother's kindness.

Sam also wondered, how much of why Sam left, did his father not tell his brother either?

Who knew but his father he had threatened to murder him for simply growing to be who he was? And sure, Sam all those years ago knew he wasn't proud of himself. He was a coward, he was shy, he had no idea what his purpose was, but now? Sure, he thought he was still some of those things to a degree, but now he at least knew when it came down to it, he would push forward for the people he loved. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere near enough, not for his father.

Sam preferred to read over learning to hunt, and his father hated that about him. Hated that his nose was always on a book rather then learning from whatever nightmare his father was putting him through that day. But it was the way one man at Castle Black had said those words to him, discussing how Sam wasn't a fighter like his father.

It was Stannis Baratheon who told him with a pride in his eyes and voice, as he realized Sams goal was to search the old manuscripts for answers of the threat far North.

“We have to know how to fight them. Keep reading, Samwell Tarly.”

The King who answered their call for aid, the King who still cared, had seen Sam's worth in his love of books and learning. Had not looked at him judgmentally for it, and instead seen him for something Sam could provide which others couldn't.

Yet, that night as he sat at the table with his father, mother, Talla, and Dickon, and at his own side Gilly and Little Sam, his father looked no more happy with him then the day he left. Dickon would ask what beyond the wall was like, and when Sam was honest that all of the food he had from the wild was hunted by Jon, his father found it pathetic. As if Jon being the fitter, stronger one who knew how to hunt was shameful against Sam who simply had no talent for it.

Gilly knew how to hunt, but she didn't shame him for it. Jon had hunted all of the animals the two of them ate beyond the wall and he didn't judge Sam for letting him do that work.

When Gilly had mentioned she knew how to hunt, especially rabbits, Melessa had not been phased, only knowing enough to say Gilly was from the North. “I imagine it’s common where you’re from. We once met a man, Lord Umber from Last Hearth, wasn’t it, Randyll, who said he taught all his daughters how to hunt.” Talla had been impressed on her own, looking at Gilly, “Your father taught you to hunt? Our father would never teach us. I think our father could learn a thing or two from your father.”

Agitated with the conversation, when Sam had politely went to accept bread from one of the servers, his father had dismissively scolded him, “Not fat enough already?” And it all had begun to spiral from there. “I thought the Night’s Watch might make a man of you. Something resembling a man at least. You managed to stay soft and fat. Your nose buried in books. Spending your life reading about the achievements of better men. I’ll wager you still can’t sit on a horse or wield a sword.”

Sam wanted to tell him he could ride a horse, he killed a Thenn, he killed one of the Others with nothing but a dagger made from dragonglass to protect Gilly and Little Sam. But he wasn't here to convince his father of that, and Sam could tell that Gilly wanted to bring it up in his defence, and had spoken of it before he could come up with a way to change the subject. Once the image of Gilly being North of the wall was out there, there was no hiding who she was.

Sam wasn't ashamed of it, nor did he care how people looked at him for it. But he certainly did not like how instantly, instead of making any notion of Sam breaking his vows, he had taken his ire out on him through Gilly. Randyll Tarly pointing to a shining, sharp blade. Sat on a wall mount made out of antlers, the hilt of it shaped as that of a bow and arrow with such images carved deeply into the wood surrounding it, whereas the rest of it looked little to stand out. “It’s called Heartsbane. It’s been in our family for five hundred years. It’s Valyrian steel. Only a handful of them left in the world. It’s supposed to go to my firstborn son after I die. To him.” Gesturing to Sam in the dead silence of the room, “But he will never wield that sword. If he were to become Lord Tarly of Horn Hill, it would be the end of this house. I took you for a Mole’s Town whore when I saw you and I made my peace with that. Who else would have him? But I overestimated him. No. It was a wildling whore that seduced my son.”

Turning back to his son, he was standing tall but no one else moved an inch, and everyone but him, was greatly uncomfortable as he grew more spiteful. “This you getting back at me, boy? Bring that to my table and making me dine with it. And you got what you were after, didn’t you? A bastard. A half-breed bastard.”

Melessa had stood, disgusted by his blatant hatred, guiding Gilly and Little Sam away with Talla following. Slowly leaving last was Dickon who stayed silent, wishing he had the bravery to stand up for his brother's side instead of saying nothing.

Sam was angry, however. Gilly being a wildling didn't make her any less of a person. And there certainly wasn't anything wrong with being a bastard. Jon was a bastard of the North, and was the most admirable man Sam's ever known, a far better man then the father before him.

Randyll had approached his son, now standing with a held back anger of his own looking up at the man. “Your mother’s a fine woman. You’re not worthy of her. To please her, I’ll take the wildling in. She can work in the kitchens. The bastard will be raised here. But this will be the last night you ever spend at Horn Hill.”

It was a risk, but he had left, and taken them with him. Gilly and Little Sam were his family, and they all belonged together, so they took what little they had and left in the middle of the night. Perhaps it had been childish or maybe it was the first brave act of rebellion against his father he found the courage to do, but he had taken Heartsbane with him, saying it was his families sword after all, not his fathers.

When Gilly had asked if his father would come for it, Sam said with the only pride he had.

“He can bloody well try.”

As you sat there in Maester Wolkan's study, you supposed you were lucky that no one saw what led up to it. Wrapping the underside of your forearm as you tried not to shake from the blood loss that took place as you made your way to see him in the first place. He no doubt had heard the whispers of you losing your mind by that point, but took no question that you simply said your hand had slipped. It became a problem however, when Jon had come into the room with tense eyes as he stared at you as if hiding a horrible secret.

“What happened?” His voice was tight and controlled likely a bit too much to not come off as trying to hide such intentions. Stepping closer to where Wolkan had you perched on a stool so your arm could lay flat as he previously had been stitching the worst of it.

He answered for you when you had paused with wide eyes, “Her hand slipped with a blade, she came to me before it could get out of hand.”

Jon watched how hesitant you were to speak and you both knew that he had realized why. Taking the moment he kept a more controlled volume, despite the twisting of angry worry in his face as he spoke to you instead. “Out of hand? The amount of blood I just saw-”

Wolkan kept his cool and you thanked him with a silent glance. “The wound is deep but it didn't cut a vein. It will heal easily and she got to me at the perfect time to clean and close the wound. Little things to be thankful for, sometimes.”

Inhaling deeply, Jon watched silently as your eyes nervously flickered between him and Wolkan, the later wrapping the rest of your forearm now that the worst of the bleeding had stopped. “You should come see me in the morning.” Putting away some of his tools as you pulled your arm gently into your lap. “I will want to check for any sign of infection, and regardless I will rewrap your dressings and clean it out.”

Nodding at him, you felt a strain in your chest as you raised an eyebrow at him, a silent unrelated question Jon could not see, but Wolkan only hummed quiet in an answer that spoke what none could gather but you two. Moving to politely held you stand from your perched position, but Jon had already stepped to your side, an arm wrapping around your waist to all but do the hard work for you, lifting you up and to the ground as he spoke. “I appreciate you helping her, Maester Wolkan. Thank you.”

“Always what I am here for, your grace.” It was a stroke of luck you felt that being sworn by oath to a family of monsters did not mean it made the maester for them the same. Getting to Winterfell at the captive of the Boltons and realizing they brought Wolkan with them, you knew it meant for whatever reason Luwin was gone and you dared not think what led to it or why.

There was getting used to Wolkan, but he did his best under the leadership he was put under and at the least was a little bit easier going in the time he had seen you in those months of a hell. The man was quiet but kind and very smart. On the relieving side, serving Jon seemed to bring him far more peace then years under the Boltons ever did.

You hoped that for just right now, it meant he could keep another secret just until you could ensure that secret's safety. A raven had come in for you, and after reading it's contents as you had finally settled back into Winterfell, you told him to keep the information to himself. With what you now knew, this one needed to be protected and that included ensuring it was somewhere not out of your reach and protection before revealing it safely.

Jon leading you through the quiet of the halls, you had glanced up to him from the side noting he had not moved his arm from your waist. “Do I even need to ask how it was you knew where to find me?”

Instead of what you expected, a deep chuckle vibrated through Jon's chest instead, pulling you a bit closer to his side playfully. “Next time don't choose a steward who used to be mine, and maybe he wouldn't tell me right away.” Only half a smile on your face, you almost could shake your head at the thought. You had told him to clean the blood up and not go get someone as it wasn't a big deal, but Olly had clearly not listened as soon as Jon came into the room with questions at the sight.

You didn't know what the two of them talked about, but they had been in the study for a while before coming to a conclusion, and that it was likely a little easier for Olly to serve Jon through you rather then jump back into his service as if it was just like before. A new trend in Jon's life it seemed. Getting used to someone who backstabbed him or his family though their forgiveness in you.

Continuing beside you, “He was worried about you, don't blame him.” Ensuring you didn't, Jon nodded before glancing around. Turning you with both hands at your upper arms, did he direct you to stop and face him, keeping his hold there as his grey eyes were bright but worried looking down at you. Your own hands, one wrapping around a wrist of his and the other toying along his waist distractedly. “He also said when he came into the room it had sounded like you had been screaming.”

You bit your lip but Jon didn't even blink, just a building concern swimming in his gaze that had you weak to it. Shrugging a little bit, you tried desperately to play it off. “It was nothing, he probably-” Jon more sternly murmured your name as his head tilted a bit with a sharper look as if warning you to not lie to his face about this. Quiet as you looked into his eyes before dropping them as your face fell a bit, “Last time I don't even recall getting out of bed, but I was wide awake and..I didn't even realize I had even dropped the blade across my arm until Olly came in the room..”

Olly wasn't sure to believe you when you said it wasn't a big deal, but you knew you couldn't get Jon to believe that in any capacity. Not now. His own expression falling almost a bit more upset, one of his hands came up to run along the hair at the side of your face before cupping your cheek. “Was it the same as last time?” Shaking your head no, Jon glanced down the corridor but still none were around at least. “What was it?”

There was only two you recognized this time, but it was two you had seen before in the last. One woman, a bit older then you, hair almost a silver white and a cold, yet smug look as she had cared not for the pleading. The one with her though, was the Westeros knight you had seen before but his face escaped you from knowing the name attached to it.

But the mind you found yourself in? The things which happened, and the lack of any emotion on her face but perhaps that of some enjoyment, it shocked you. Even coming out of it, it shocked you. The mind you looked through was not someone good, but there was a conflicted mess of emotions swirling in their mind.

The way he ended though, the way she let it happen? It didn't matter what occurred, there was not a thing even a man like that could've done which would have made him deserve that. Perhaps you felt so shaken, as you felt the screaming agonizing heat as he did in the seconds before your mind returned to you, blood across your arm as Olly called your name in a panic.

But trying to relay that properly to Jon? It was hard to explain. It was hard to word how terrifying it felt, the way she looked at him as he was pleading desperately for any mercy.

“Dany, please-”

Jon stared at you in a distant unnerved manner, this was the second time the same woman was at the centre of both. Looking up at him, you could feel your throat burning from the desperation and your heart racing as it recalled the fear of how uncaring she looked at him through your eyes. Murmuring your name fading into a tense quiet, Jon moved his other hand from your upper arm to wrap around your back and pull you into him.

He hadn't mentioned it, but he had seen the way you almost disappeared in the hall during the reception. The way you looked sick and terrified for only moments when he gently coaxed you back to earth before you were kept too deep into whatever it was you saw or heard. He knew trauma, and that was far more then just a memory. He didn't say it, but the way he held you close told enough, that whatever was pulling your mind here and there was beginning to scare him.

The worry that if he left you on your own too long again, what could this escalate too before you hurt yourself even more? How was he supposed to protect you from something he couldn't even slightly control? Jon knew his entire life at that point was strange, unexplained things happening to him, but they weren't supposed to happen to you. They weren't supposed to leave you looking this shaken and panicked at what you were seeing.

Muffled against him, you tried to reassure him, “We've been through a lot in a short amount of time, maybe it's only stress.” Jon shortly muttering back a question of is it, before you paused. Holding him around the back of his neck more, “No one has ever died and come back, this could be normal.”

“I saw visions of you before and they were nothing like this.” Inhaling deeply once more you could hear his voice was deep and tight trying to keep himself collected against you. “Something is doing this to you, but I don't know how to help.”

Pulling back, you found the need in your heart straining to quell the tone break in his voice. Cupping both sides of his cheeks, you hated the concern so blatantly across his eyes. “You can't protect me from everything, Jon.”

Shaking his head once, he grabbed one of your hands to twist. Pressing a kiss to your palm, “That won't stop me from trying.”

But for just a moment, the way in which his large hand gripped part of your hand and wrist did you not stand there anymore. Looking up brightly at not the man your present mind knew was in front of you, you were sitting. In a room glowing with gentle firelight as innocuous music played around you that set nothing in your mind off.

You had your hand rushing towards him in a much more playful manner when he snatched you just like this, holding it in the air just like this but a smirk across his lips and bright blue eyes tinged with a complete mischief as he pulled you a bit closer.

“Striking your King is an act of treason.”

But as soon as you could see Robb, you were back here. In the halls of Winterfell as Jon murmured your name with that same panic returning to his eyes. Instead you pulled your hands down to rest over where the carve in his heart was. You looked much more reassured then Jon did, despite the floating in your chest warning you that this was starting to happen at an alarming frequency.

Changing subjects swiftly was the safest route, which worked easily to bring him down to something simmering in his shoulders. “Come, we have a bit to do before we meet with everyone. At least have our affairs prepared before we get yelled at for it.”

Jon relaxed, chuckling again as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “This is my order, I'll be the one getting yelled at if anything.” As you both made your way down the corridor once more, you shook your head with a sigh. “I'd rather they be angry with me then you.”

“I think that ship has long since sailed, Snow.”

A smirk so much easier danced across Jon's lips as he tried his best to walk forward and not just shove you into the nearest wall. “You know that one doesn't work quite as well when it's your name too now, Snow.” His tone dropping with a playful prominence on the name as well as he glanced at you trying to hide your own smirk.

“What are you going to do, your grace?” Pushing it a little as you didn't even glance at him letting the words pass you by with a quick dryness. “Going to punish me for using our name against you?”

And with that you had snapped the restraint he held. One hand on your hip now as he shoved you into the wall roughly, his other trapping you in as his palm rested on the stone wall beside your head, leaning close enough so your world vision was hidden with his curls. Grey eyes dark, looking down you with not a shred of shame for it before following it back up. Not even with a smirk, almost just a raw, dark, frowning lust that he couldn't contain. Like he did these things without any thought behind it.

The hand on your hip tightening, “I should punish you for taking my name in the first place.” Stepping closer he could almost press his hips into yours should he take a step more, as you felt the hand on your hip fisting the skirt of your dress as it raised slightly. His breath stuck hot against your skin, taking another step, feeling a teasing press of his hardening cock that almost made your mind beg and plead to just open your legs for him now, regardless of how anyone could see. The hand beside your head drifting down to your hair and raking his way through to the back of your neck, he tilted your head up to meet his eyes gently.

Your voice but a high pitched whisper as the blood in your veins sparked you like a spreading fire. “Too bad my King has a meeting with his high lords to prepare for. Not nearly enough time for that.”

You didn't mean it as a challenge, but you should have known better. You were in the hall where any could pass by, but as Jon pressed you up against the wall anyways it didn't matter. His hands grabbing your wrists and yanking them up above your head, switching to hold you there with one larger hand as the other yanked your dress up for him, his lips attacking yours rough and deeply.

As soon as he felt your bare skin under his touch, his mouth moved to your jaw and neck with sloppy kisses but rough bites as he rasped in you ear. “My men also expect their King to fuck an heir into his beautiful wife. I'm doing my duty.”

Shivering in his touch your fingers flexed wanting to reach out to him, voice barley there as his mouth continued to bite into your neck, his fingers of his other hand drifting under the soft fabric hiding you from his touch. “Is that all this is?” Holding back a high gasp as his fingers drifted down to run lightly along your wetness, “Not a very appropriate way of doing such a duty, my King. Where anyone could find us.”

Pulling back, his eyes darkening to a black as he stared you down, finding your clit with the wetness on his fingers as you jumped. The hold on your wrists tightened as you did so. Jon rubbing tight, rough circles into it and breaking your resolve as you melted into his touch. “Maybe they should find us.” Your lungs tightened as you opened your mouth to cry out as the pleasure burned into the roughness of your clit as he was relentless of the pace. Mouth trailing up to your ear as he roughly snapped his teeth into it as he hissed, “Make sure I'm doing right by my new wife and watch me take you apart. I'd have showed off how good you are for me on our wedding night, if it didn't also mean any of them had to touch you as well.”

Letting the touch on your clit slide down, Jon sunk those same two fingers deep to the knuckle inside of you with no hesitation, the heel of his palm roughly rubbing into the sore nub sparking you to cry out loudly. Jon capturing you lips with his to muffle whatever echo was left in you.

Running firmly along the sensitive wall inside of you, you arched into his touch as much as you could. Letting his lips steal your whine of his name into his mouth, and returning such a gift by sliding his tongue into yours.

Thankful the thin material was still there, collecting the otherwise unseemly evidence of how wet Jon's fingers were being soaked as your hips tried desperately to grind into his touch. The hand keeping your wrists above your head slipping down finally, grasping the side of your face near your jaw as he kept your mouth firmly against his.

Licking along your tongue with greed as he increased how deep and fast he fucked his fingers into your soaked core. Your hands raking through his curls in an instant as Jon pressed his hips firmly into yours before moving to grasp over your dress at your breasts, groping tightly before finding the collar of your dress and slipping under the fabric.

His fingers inside of you moving fast and soaked as you felt the coil twisting and begs for mercy unheard in Jon's kiss but how roughly he grasped, twisted and almost tugged on your nipple under you dress had you gasping desperately. Jon's incessant touch pulling you right over that line and your orgasm flooded between your legs as he still kept himself tasting inside of your mouth. As soon as you arched up and seized, the feeling washing across your veins and limbs with a cry as it snapped inside of you, your own hands reached down.

Hands almost shaking and fumbling as you tried to work past his layers as you still clenched around his fingers with a bit of a jump at the aftershocks still hitting your core from your orgasm. Pulling from your mouth Jon looked down to your hands before leaning to nudge your nose with his, taking over for you with much more ease even with one hand. Only undoing enough that he could reach into his breeches and pull his cock out.

Jon pulling from your wetness and two fingers soaked, he reached up so they sat obscenely at your lips before pushing them just as deep to the knuckle despite your whine, moving to sloppily kiss back along to your ear as his other hand yanked your dress up enough to manoeuvre under it. Almost looking back at you for a moment as he let you suck, before he pulled them from you and once more kissed you. Your tongues sliding along the other as he much more freely groaned at the heavy taste on his own tongue.

But just as you grasped at his shoulders in need, Jon yanked up one of your legs to rest at his hip, pushing you more into the wall just as he slid his cock deep inside you. Your cries in his mouth almost painful as the thick stretch burned but you arched into his touch. His hand on your thigh as the material slid down your leg and almost exposed what Jon was doing, holding it up tight at his hip as he fucked up roughly inside of you with a grunt.

This wasn't a fuck made to last, his pace was fast and he was rough and pounding where you could hear how soaked you made is cock in an instant. His free hand cupping your jaw as he pulled back to look at you, teeth almost gritting as his eyes black watched you try desperately to hold back any sound.

His cock burned you, made you want to scream and run from the pain of how long and thick he slid inside you, but the pleasure taken from you left you unwilling to fight back and raking through his curls tightly. As if all you knew to do was take it. Jon's eyes were dark as he looked down at you, each pound of his cock jostling you as he wished he could strip you bare then and there to watch better.

On the contrary though, his deep tones washed over with something so bright and soft as he looked at you, “I love you so much..” The degree to which you clenched around him had Jon bury his head in your neck to hide his own groans. Your hands gentle now through his curls as his cock rutted deeply into you.

Nodding into him, your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders and up into his hair, your voice weak as your lungs held no air trying to keep any cries from your words and little able to come out as a result, “I- fuck, I'm yours..”

Another groan as he picked up the pace and slammed his cock inside of your soaked cunt at a rough and fast pace before biting deeply into your neck. Nodding into his biting, Jon yanked the leg at his hip up high and shoved you more against the wall at a better angle to fuck up inside you, but completely exposing how deeply he was fucking you should anyone walk by the side where your dress was slipped down.

You shook at how it almost felt as if Jon wanted someone to come by and see what he was doing to you. Yet unbeknownst to why, Jon desperately did. He never had this inclination before, but his new life with you, buried inside you, Jon was consumed with a few dark desires. One of them almost challenging his men to watch what they could never give you.

He hated how depraved of thoughts they could become. Jon pounded into you harder at the images in his mind taking over. What it would be like, having you pressed against the wall just like this, but making you face away, your back pressed against his chest and instead Jon would pull his head from your neck, rest his forehead against the back of your hair and watch his cock sink deeply into your ass, and how much the plush skin of your cheeks would bounce at the force.

Jon didn't think he knew how to ask you for that. You weren't some whore that men paid for, you were the woman he loved more then anything, his wife. But he couldn't stop himself as he fucked you fast against the wall. How filthy would it feel to spill deep inside your ass, or how much he wanted to lay you out, and shove his cock to fuck between your breasts after marking them up all for him with his lips and teeth.

He had no idea why he was consumed with thoughts like this, but the way you grasped at him, clenched around him and let him fuck you as if you were designed for his lips and cock alone, was doing something to his desires he never knew about before.

You hid in his shoulder, weakly crying his name as you suddenly came around him. The coil snapping after twisting so burning tight as you were pulled up to meet his lips. Jon biting and kissing you deeply as you came around him, before you felt his cum. Thick and hot as he spilled deeply inside of you, grinding deep until you clenched around him in too much shocking stimulation.

He shushed you with gentle kisses as you whined as he pulled out. Putting your leg back down gently, and cupping both of your cheeks tenderly with a kiss as he put both of your clothes back where they belonged. It was quiet between you both for a moment, gently tracing your noses along the other as you smoothed out the curls you had raked though until you felt your heart slow and world return to your vision outside of Jon.

Leaning up to give a tiny kiss, you looked back. His grey eyes bright with a smile charming off his face as you almost grinned back with a beam. “Now we are certainly going to be late.”

You honestly could have rolled your eyes, if he hadn't captured your lips in another kiss as Jon muttered, “Oh, I'll make sure of that.”

These Starks thought they were so terribly clever didn't they?

It was not an easy thing to do, making a Northern man cry. Reputation made people think that they never did because they couldn't. Unemotional and cold in heart as the winter around them, but in truth it simply was just held inside them securely.

It had been the first time in a long time that he cried, the day Howland Reed learned of Eddard Stark's death.

His son Jojen had seen it, he had the Sight. With no reason to doubt what his son had said, it hurt him greatly to realize he was the last of them. Everyone that had played a pivitol role in some capacity in Robert's Rebellion and all of them but him died before their time. But then again, they all had before their final days anyways.

Something in a lot of them died near the end of that war and no one had quite found a life beyond it, in a way they all were trapped in the rebellion twenty five years later until the last of them died too. Jon Arryn had been first. The brave man who had to make the hard choice of rallying his bannermen against the Mad King, died of a fever, but Howland knew better. He knew Ned would have known better as well.

Then it was Robert, the most obvious of them all. Robert had never lived passed learning that Prince Rhaegar Targaryean had kidnapped Lyanna Stark somewhere along the roads near Harrenhal. He became angry then and he stayed angry until his last day no doubt. He was a wild card, especially when contrasting him to the man Ned Stark used to be. Even looking past a man dedicated to the wife he loved, it was not in his nature to be like Robert.

Robert had bastards all over the country. The ones in Kings Landing were dead, but there were more out there. A man who drank and whored to that degree? Stones, Flowers, Waters, he likely had at least one in all of the Kingdoms. Most of them would just never know it. He could recall it was that nature which she hated.

Lyanna knew who Robert was at his worst, and the simple fact was she also knew that was a life many highborn girls would find themselves fated too. Rare for a highborn girl to have a husband like the way Catelyn Tully had eventually found love in Ned Stark. But in those days, Lyanna's prospects were looking at a lifetime of being insulted by her husbands infidelity.

Ironic, he thought.

But, it never got any better for Robert. He thought he loved Lyanna when he hardly knew a thing about her, and it was that thought which made him angry realizing what Rhaegar had done. And when Ned Stark came back from the war and she was dead? He stayed angry.

Howland only knew bits and parts of the story some from Ned, much from what Jojen could see but it wasn't pretty. Rhaegar Targaryean had been dead for twenty four years and Robert hated him as much then as he did that day they learned what he had done. He wished Baratheons were made a little more of what Northerners were. Just keep some things inside.

But, it was Ned Stark who Howland Reed cried for. Not many knew how deep their bond ran and none but the two of them knew why. They didn't often have the chance to see one another after the rebellion, and even less when Howland finally had his kids but they spoke in writing still. Just not willing to leave his home when he had them. Finally through the horror, Meera and Jojen were Howland's blessings and he missed them terribly.

He knew why they had to go, why they had to go to Bran Stark and now Howland could only hope that somewhere beyond the wall his children were still alive. But, Ned Stark still wasn't and it ate away at him since the years the Lannisters took his head. He hadn't come out since then. Ned died and Howland hid in his Keep in Greywater Watch, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn't anymore. He didn't know what would do it, but he knew it was coming.

But then he'd remember he was the last one. Not just of the men of those days, but the last one who knew. What was he to do with that information, he knew much many didn't. Much that Ned knew, much that Lyanna didn't want people to know and a lifetime of keeping it all inside making him turn inward at how stonewalled he needed to be to contain them.

But there was only one secret that mattered, one that was why Ned Stark had spent the rest of his life trapped within the traumas of rebellion. The reminder of that truth was there for him every single day and when it wasn't he was in a place that served to haunt him with what would happen should the worst come out. Come be Hand of the King Robert said, come to the place your brother and father burned alive trying to demand safe rescue of your sister.

Come witness a place that terrified him to have such a secret be in. But he kept that secret as far North as he could get once those days came knocking. It was all he could do to keep that secret safe still.

It was late at night as Howland finally left. Travelling on his horse along the Kingsroad. Winter was everywhere now, and it didn't slow him one bit. His horse would have to freeze and die to slow this journey down and even then he would keep going. Someone had to keep that secret safe and Howland was all that remained so he had to show his face. But it was along the road that he relived it. He and Ned's reason for why they became the men they were and the complications of what it all meant.

Still now he could recall how in one moment a young girl off in the distance had spotted what was happening, and how as quick as he saw her did she come to his aid. The girl likely no older then fourteen or fifteen, came to the aid of Howland who was even then, already a man. He had been jumped by boys over six years his junior in the roads towards the Tourney of Harrenhal. But, Howland Reed was small and quick. Not large and strong. They were though.

Yet that young girl with black hair and grey eyes came jumping to his defence without a second thought, using only a dull tourney sword to try and chase the boys attacking him off. How she that day brought him to her lair, as she had jested calling it, to get her brothers to help treat his wounds. He met all four Starks that day.

Brandon was the eldest, tall and handsome and had a quick wit and hot temper just as he had seen on the she wolf who rescued him. Benjen was the youngest, only a few years beneath Lyanna in age but laughed easily and held a maturity Howland admired. Offering him armour and a horse, saying if he wanted to get back at the boys who beat him he'd be happy to provide them.

He could still recall the way he and Benjen teased how quickly from a feirce defender Lyanna went, to a watery eyed girl. Hearing a sad song from the beautiful singing voice of Prince Rhaegar, and how she poured her drink on her brother for making fun of her. It was funny then, beacuse it was such a childishly little girl reaction.

It wasn't funny now looking back on it.

Beacuse she was a child. Howland was close in age to the Prince, so it made what followed after all the more horrifying. A pretty, feirce, rebellious maiden did not come to his rescue. Lyanna was just a hot tempered but caring and loyal child. Only a child.

But, he met one more Stark that day. Eddard Stark was the second eldest brother, not quite as well liked and charmingly handsome as Brandon, but more quiet and serious. Howland liked him right away. He liked all four of them he met that day, but he and Ned remained friends with a true ease from that moment onward. A friendship, that all these years later, still felt difficult to accept the end of.

They hadn't known each other for a lifetime, but it was Howland Reed that was trusted with the one thing which would remain only between them for the rest of their lives. And Howland never once wavered in how seriously he took that secret to heart. He could see that secret as clear as he could see that day he met the family of wolves.

It was warm that day. So warm in Dorne that Howland hated it. The sun bore down on them as they travelled, the seven of them, and not a clue what they were walking in on. Not really. The Prince's Pass was their destination, a circular tower standing high in the sky against the backdrop of the Red Mountains. There was hardly anything around it. It was chosen on purpose of course.

One could get to it from Harrenhal without much difficulty and yet it was isolated. Where if they ran from it, where would one go were these sands not their home? It felt like an insult towards Elia Martell to keep a teenage girl in the tower she gifted to her husband, but it also felt like a way to force the girl into relying on who she was trapped with. Even if she escaped, where would she go on her own?

There were seven of them though, and he saw all clear as day. Eddard Stark was at his limit of what he could put up with. Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar at the Trident, The Mad King was dead and yet all who died gruesomely were still gone. Everyone knew what happened no matter what Tywin Lannister later claimed. He had ordered his knights Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch to find and kill Elia Martell and her children.

The mountain had ripped the still infant Aegon from his mothers breast and smashed his face against the wall so hard that only blood and bone remained to him. Then dripping in his blood, he had raped Elia before splitting her in half with his greatsword. In the same royal apartments, hiding under her fathers bed, little Rhaenys had been dragged from under it by Lorch and brutally stabbed over fifty times.

And all Robert could say were that they were “dragonspawn” and cared not for dead, innocent children soley because they were Rhaegar's. Ned had argued with him at how disgusting his lack of care was and left Kings Landing alone. Meaning thankfully, Robert was no where near the Tower of Joy that day.

Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, Ethan Glover, Mark Ryswell, Willam Dustin and of course, Eddard Stark and Howland Reed. Seven good men, skilled men who were as serious as any Northerners and as determined as the brother who was there for the sister still kept away from him.

There were three in the distance. Their white cloaks blowing in the wind, they had not the threat of being out numbered and all knew why. They were there on orders and not once in the war left, it was insulting. Their vows as knights not more important then the thing they were there for, to keep a girl hostage. But, they were Kingsguard, and dangerous ones too.

On one side, Ser Oswell Whent was knelt down on one knee, sharpening his blade with a wetstone. On the other was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who stood with his greatsword, Dawn, hung over his right shoulder, a sad smile sat on his face.

Between them was Ser Gerold Hightower, The White Bull and commander of the Kingsguard who stood tall and stern between them. The men all stood at attention as Ned Stark stepped forward first, trying to find any peace when all knew there would be none. Were there going to be peace, they wouldn't be here in the first place.

Ned stood as tall as could be, and as calm as he managed. “I looked for you on the Trident.”

Ser Gerold was the one to respond, taking proper command of the situation for as long as it was leading to the inevitable. “We were not there.”

Beside him with all the confidence that felt both true yet unearned, Ser Oswell spat out “Be the end of the usurper if we had been.” Howland recalled thinking if they considered Robert a usurper, then perhaps they should have done their duty and worked to prevent such a thing from happening, but they either did not have such clarity or were blinded by their own hubris.

His face squinting harshly in the bright sun that was a mixture with the anger and impatience building within him, Ned continued past the offence. “When Kings Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your King. Your Prince lays dead now at the Trident, and I could only wonder then where you were.”

But Ser Gerold defended their failures of duty as if it was an excuse which mattered to any here. “If we had been there, Aerys would still sit on the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in all seven hells.”

It was only after that day, did Howland recall that and he wondered to himself on the journey North, perhaps the Kingsguard were not noble knights to be remembered as brave and valiant, if the final legacy they left behind was this.

Ned had only one plea and all knew it wouldn't work, but he would give them that option no matter what. “The Lords and Knights of the Seven Kingdoms have bent the knee in their defeat. There is none left for your orders to follow.”

Ser Arthur had moved to take his helmet into his hand, a firm but sad look of a man sure of who he was and what he was doing. “Our knees do not bend easily.”

Beside him Ser Gerold only added to their fates. “Nor do we flee our duty. We are Kingsuard. We swore a vow.”

But all men there, the three standing in the way of the tower and the seven against them all knew what vow it was they were still defending. As each remaining six of them came to Ned's side, weapons in hand, Ser Arthur donned his helm finally, and spoke what was to be his last. “And now it begins.”

Eddard Stark however, spoke the truth for more then one of them that day. “No, now it ends.”

Just as the metal of their swords clashed, from the tower was heard Lyanna Stark desperately screaming, “Eddard-” as the fight ensued to get to her.

Three men against seven and all but two remained. Ned Stark and Howland Reed were the only ones who lived to see the end of that fight and it was a bloody horrid sight. But once they were dead, Ned spared not a single second as he ran up the steps of the tower to get to his sister.

Howland stayed behind for a moment, exhausted and nerves shot he looked to the men at his side fallen now and hoped and begged that they did not die in vain. It took him a moment to do so, but with heavy footsteps did he begin the climb of the tower himself.

It was dark inside, not many had been in here for a long time that could tend to much of anything. But it was what was in the air, that made Howland feel a lurch of sickness. The air was thick with the scent of blood and roses.

As he approached the door, he could hear the strained voice of Lyanna Stark in a quiet desperation, filled with a heavy love that radiated too with fear. He heard the faint pleas of her voice which was the last any would, though the door the words, “Promise me, Ned.”

Only even as Howland Reed stood outside of it, Lyanna and Eddard Stark were not alone in that room.

Winterfell was as sturdy as it had been in years. Work still being done to rebuild what was burned down and yet it was still impressive. But Howland Reed was here when he never came before. He didn't come for Robb Stark, and tried to ignore the raven from Castle Black from their once dead Queen.

He didn't answer that call of aid until he had received the news that Eddard Stark's final remaining child, his bastard son, had been crowned King in the North. Howland showed up then, and the very second he saw his face? He felt sick. As if he had never considered the truth of this secret until then and there.

Ned had watched him grow up every day of his life, but Howland had never met him until he walked quietly and unnoticed, into the meeting hall of Winterfell. Hidden amongst the other Lords. Finally understanding that he too, had not truly lived passed that day at the Tower of Joy.

But, upon the truth that Aegon Targaryean was not only living, but had landed in Westeros and had battle first on the island of Dragonstone? There was no words in Howland's mind to describe how it felt, realizing who his opponent in battle had been. Perhaps that was why he rode to Winterfell so quick.

If he had not been too cowardly to come face to face with the memory of a ghost, Howland Reed might have been there to prevent those two men from ever meeting in the first place.

From a tryst against the wall as you and Jon were making your way to the main hall of Winterfell to see to a meeting with the Northern Lords, you had not the concept in your mind of what your life days later would have become. But you also, couldn't have known how much it would make you spiral. How much it twisted your mind into something panicked that you did not recognize.

You suddenly felt without purpose that specific night, and left to go find another in case you lost all hope to keep going before finding it.

Attempts had been made for you to look as nondescript as you could manage, as the pair of you walked into the loud and bustling noise of the tavern. Evening had fallen upon the sky and those nearby in the city took refuge in some of the only entertainment they would get in these early months of winter. Men drinking, laughing and joking as they made jesting passes as the barmaid's serving them more as their nights went on.

The raven scroll had only been able to describe the building as having a wooden sign handing over the entrance of what looked like a horse reaching in the air. If what was said was accurate, they would be here if not tonight then at some point. Your hair was messy in it's looks as you had made sure not to let yourself appear as being used to much effort. The cloak around your shoulders was dark, shabby and only enough to have a hood and cover the equally as unimpressive dress as you fit mostly in with all the others.

Not a single weapon but one hidden dagger. A normal lowborn woman wouldn't be armed as such.

More than once you had to remind Olly not to call you by your title, or even name. Sat on the back of the horse he had asked you, “What am I supposed to call you then?” Thinking about it, your creativity was not quite as good as others and you told him to make one up. A few second passed as he then came up with, “Mya?” So you nodded, saying then Mya it was.

Barrowton was coming into the distance as you and Olly went over once more the covering. “I don't want any to realize who I am, we are here to be discreet. Understood?”

The sun shined low in the sky with a gold as evening fell upon you. Walking into the tavern, you both stood there looking no more out of place then any other. “What's the name of who we're here for?”

Looking around, it wasn't obvious right away if they were here. “For our purposes? They're going by the name Satin.” Olly asking you how would he know if they were here or not, you glanced over at him. “Do you know what I look like?”

Taken back, Olly's face twisted in a confusion. “Yes..”

Turning away, you nodded once. “Good. They look like that.” You knew the boy was struggling to tell if he were annoyed or amused by your dryness over the vague details you were barley offering up. But Olly had known something deeply was wrong from the moment this little journey begun.

He had come across you in a unusually uncomposed state, asking why were you looking as if you were ready to leave, despite the lateness of the hour. “Would you keep it a secret if I told you?” You had asked, and when he assured you yes, you narrowed your eyes.

“I won't tell the King this time I promise.” It wasn't his fault, but he could see a tear in your throat scratching down into your heart that left your eyes hazy as you shook yourself out of it in seconds. Clearing your throat you instructed him that he was not to tell anyone you were leaving for the next day at the least. Not knowing what to say when Olly had asked “Won't the King worry where you went?” You simply sent the boy on his way. Beacuse you didn't know how to tell him that he wouldn't just not worry.

Jon would be grateful you finally were gone.

What was it he wanted? What had he said to you? For you to leave and stop being a burden to him. Leave him alone as he wanted, even if he wanted it for good.

Sitting down, you had ordered water, bread and stew for Olly. Giving him a stern glance to the side as he almost went to speak out to attend to you in that same manner. He wasn't here as your steward, he was here because he hadn't wanted to be left behind and you didn't have the heart to say no to him.

You were leaving in the middle of the night in secret, and Olly had to promise he wouldn't say a word if he wanted to come. You didn't know when you would be returning, how long this would take, but after helping a grieving boy burn the remains of his mother and father, the least you could do was not leave him behind again.

Theon was going to be furious with you for this one.

What you didn't expect, was the sad whine in Ghost when you had finally taken off. Having been out hunting in the wolfswood, he had caught you in sight as he stood perched on a nearby cliff side looking down at you. Wishing he weren't so smart, you knew he could sense what you were doing out here and when you gently tried to call up to him, telling him to go back, that it was alright? Ghost whined, whined more when you gave him a sorrowful look, and you heard him still when you rode off.

Maybe when he got back to Jon, Ghost would pick up what happened and hate you too finally. You had done what was advised against, told Jon the truth and it seems like that truth came at the cost of whatever love was left in his heart for you. He deserved to know, not telling him was cruel, but telling him came at a great cost it felt.

You couldn't even recall the extent of how not normal your mind felt that night. The only thing screaming at you in a very specific voice that Jon didn't want you, and for whatever reason, that might have hurt you into a panic more then anything else. In Castle Black you had been scared you would ruin his life by being in it again, but now it finally came to fruition. You did ruin his life.

As you sat in the tavern, looking around for the one person left to you, you wondered if you should do Jon the courtesy, find a way to free him from his new vows, and leave him to find a better wife you always worried he would want instead. You were tired of being the one to bring him problems.

Only days ago, you had not the inkling of what a disaster one man's appearance in Winterfell would spin into. Days ago, you still thought what Jon felt for you would stay real. You still thought you made him happy, and you now felt that toxifying poison of self loathing at how wrong you were. You told Jon the truth, and your only conclusion, was that the truth made him hate you.

But as the barmaid passed your table, clucking a plate onto it it pulled you right out of the memory. Olly's eyes narrow and concerned on you, but you just grabbed whatever bread was closest on it, and pushed the plate more towards him.

Mumbling through your chewing with a lecturing look, “You're the one still growing. Eat.” But as you chewed, washing it down a bit your eyes found a figure in the distance, and it was exactly the strange reaction you wondered if it would feel. But you looked at them, as they saw you. Jon Arryn was still not wrong.

“The seed is strong.”

One drop of Baratheon blood and the two of you looked just the same here. You could only wonder as you both looked wide eyed at one another, how alone did they truly feel to have reached out to you of all people? It had been many years since that day on the Street of Steel, and you never had a good or safe reason to think you'd see them again. Pylos said they were all dead, all of Roberts bastards. And yet, this one wasn't. The one which lived, you shockingly already knew.

Gendry had travelled all the way North, to try and find you himself.

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