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brain-deadx0 · 3 years

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Blood in the Water

Summary: Virgil is kidnapped for ransom, but when his captors don't get what they want they decide to get rid of him.

Characters: human Virgil, mer Logan, oc villain

Warnings: Kidnapping, restraints, hostage, injury of a main character, implied torture, attempted murder, drowning mention, near drowning, noncon kissing(?)/mouth to mouth, knife, uh… let me know?

Virgil had never given much thought to his father. Sure as a kid he thought the man was cool as hell. But he was more like that rich uncle you never see who sends you cool toys on Christmas and your birthday.

As he got older he came to realize this but didn't care all that much. Sure he thought he would've liked to have an actual relationship with the guy, until he got old enough to realize his mom was the only one who was actually supporting him and paying the bills. So he decided the guy wasn't worth it anyway since despite all the money he seemed to have he never tried to help out.

Virgil knew his father was a bastard.

Virgil thought he was simply a rich yet deadbeat dad up until his mom got sick. The two had never once asked him for anything, but when Virgil was a broke college student who couldn't afford the growing medical bills he reached out. Hoping that if nothing else the man would help pay for her treatment.

He didn't even go to the funeral.

So yes. Virgil knew his father was a bastard. He just didn't realize how much of one he actually was.

Virgil was currently tied to a chair on what he could only assume was a boat. Or at least he hoped it was a boat or else his concussion was worse than he thought.

He didn't bother testing the restraints. He was too tired at this point and every attempt before had ended in pain.

He didn't even know why these people had suddenly grabbed him off the street and shoved him into a trunk. Sure his estranged father was rich or something but it's not like either of them had been in contact for years. Virgil didn't even get gifts anymore since his mom died and he told the man to not even bother.

He really hoped these people didn't actually know who he was because if they tried to ransom him he was definitely going to die.

The sound of the door slamming open startled him from his thoughts.

Virgil glared despite the new ball of anxiety sitting heavy in his stomach.

"So," a man in a pristine white suit said as he walked through the door, "You must be Virgil."

"Who's asking?" Virgil growled.

He almost regretted it as one of the guards made a move for him, only to be stopped by the man holding up a hand.

"You can call me John."

"Because that's totally not a made up name."

'John' just smirked, "Remind me: what was your father's name again?"

Virgil cursed, "Look man, if you're looking for money you kidnapped the wrong guy. I haven't had contact with that bastard in years. He didn't even pay child support!"

"I asked for his name, not your life story."

Virgil huffed, "George Storm," he ground out, "why are you even asking me? You obviously know already."

"Just wondering which alias he used on you."

"What?"

"Now Mr. Storm-"

"It's Sanders. I got rid of his name when I told him to fuck off."

"Fair enough," the man said, "regardless of your name the fact remains that you're still his son and that means you're worth something."

Virgil couldn't help but laugh at that, "Didn't you hear me? He won't give you any money. He probably forgot I even existed by now."

"Then let's remind him shall we?"

Virgil couldn't help but flinch at the sudden sound of ducktape.

…

"- and if you don't? Well your little boy might just have a little accident."

Virgil's screams came out muffled as the cattleprod was once again jammed into his side.

"Enough."

Virgil shook as he tried to recatch his breath.

"Well Mr. Sanders, you played your roll quite well." John told him.

Virgil just glared back.

...

Virgil wasn't sure how long he had been in the small room. It had to have been a couple of days at least. They had taken a few more videos after his fathers response or lack thereof. Each time Virgil was beaten or tortured just shy of unconsciousness.

He wasn't restrained anymore at least. It's not like anyone thought he could do anything at this point.

He laid on the cold metal floor hoping it might somehow make his body feel less like a puddle of pain, but if it did it wasn't noticeable.

He flinched and curled into himself when he heard the door open. Several sets of heavy foot steps made their way towards him. He tried to curl up tighter in a meager attempt to protect himself but inevitably failed as a rough hand pulled him into a sitting position. A bright flash let him know they were taking another photo before the hand in his hair began pulling him towards the door.

"Hello again Mr. Sanders." John greeted pleasantly as Virgil was thrown to the deck.

Virgil coughed as he pushed himself to his knees, "I'm guessing he won't give you anything?"

"No." John hummed, "I guess you were right. He really doesn't give a shit about you."

"Will you let me go now?" He couldn't help but ask.

John smirked again in the way Virgil had unfortunately become familiar with over the last however long, "Seeing as you aren't worth any monetary value I see no reason to keep you."

For a brief moment there was a flicker of hope in his chest.

"But I've wanted to kill that father of yours for a long time now. And you do bare quite the resemblance."

Virgil screamed as a heavy net was suddenly thrown over him. He tried to fight off the men surrounding him as they began to wrap rope around the mess he was quickly getting tangled in.

"Any last words for your father?" John asked as he stood over him with a camera.

"I hope you both burn in hell!" Virgil hissed.

"I suppose we'll just have to meet you there." The man told him before nodding to one of his goons.

Virgil screamed out a slew of curses as he was dragged the short distance to the side of the boat. He managed to suck in a breath as he felt himself be hoisted over the side and tried not to lose it as he hit the freezing water.

Logan's nose twitched as the faint scent of blood traveled on the weak current around him. Normally this would be a sign of an easy meal. A struggling seal, perhaps a fish that made a narrow escape, the occasional whale injured by human vessels.

He knew there was a boat in this area. He had been following it of course. Humans were dangerous but they were interesting and it was rare for them to be in this area.

Unable to resist his curiosity he quickly followed the scent to the boat.

The surface churned as the boat sped away but Logan barely paid it any mind as his eyes caught on something heavily tangled in one of the cursed human nets.

Logan knew humans used them to catch large amounts of fish. He wasn't sure why they needed so many all at once but that was one of life's great mysteries. He also knew that other creatures often got caught in them. If they were lucky the humans would let them out. If they weren't they often drowned.

He swam closer to the poor creature that was still struggling in the net. Whatever it was had obviously been left for dead.

I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die…

Virgil struggled as the net seemed to get tighter around him and his lungs screamed for air.

Oh god I'm gonna die!

He had to get out he had to get out of the net.

Despite his mind telling him to struggle and get out so he could breathe, his limbs started to fail him as he sank deeper into the cold water.

He barely felt the nudge of panic that shot through him as a shadowy figure that looked too close to a shark came closer.

'Sharks are cool…' he thought as his vision turned dark.

Logan wasn't sure what he expected to be in the net, but he knew 'human' wasn't on his list.

The human's unfocused eyes landed on him for only a moment before closing. Small bubbles of air began to escape from their face as they went limp.

That was… not good.

He quickly grabbed the net and tried to pull it upwards to the surface but barely slowed the descent caused by the heavy weights.

Logan looked up to the sky that grew farther and farther away. He needed to cut the weights off but the human would surely die before they would make it to the surface. There was only one thing to do if he intended to save them.

He hesitated a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to the humans.

When he pulled back the human drew in a sharp breath followed by a short coughing fit. Logan was a bit concerned they didn't wake up but at least they weren't about to drown.

Logan reached into his bag and pulled out his knife before moving to cut the ropes. The heavy weights quickly disappeared into the dark below and Logan began pulling the human back to the warmer water near the surface.

…

Virgil woke up cold. It took him a moment to realize he was soaking wet. Another moment passed and he realized he wasn't alone.

There was someone next to him, humming in an odd tone, and seeming to be messing with something covering him.

He managed to crack one of his eyes open just in time to see a blurry flash of what looked like a knife. He quickly closed his eyes and curled into himself causing the person above him to stop humming.

Logan knew he should've fled back to the water as soon as the human showed signs of waking. He was only part way through cutting the human out of the net when the human's eyes opened. Only for them to immediately close again and for the human to retreat into themself.

Logically this would be the next perfect opportunity to leave.

"It's alright," he said instead, "You're safe now."

The human flinched at the sound of his voice but made no move to look at him.

After a minute Logan realized he wasn't going to get an answer, "You're stuck in a net," he told them, "I was in the process of removing it when you woke up. May I continue to use my knife to get it off?"

The humans eyes remained screwed shut but after a moment they nodded.

"Alright, I'm going to start near your abdomen is that acceptable?"

Another nod and Logan began to cut through the plastic ropes once more. As he worked the human gradually began to relax slightly. By the time he finished the human was only marginally as tense as they had been when they woke up.

Logan stored his knife back in his bag, "You should be able to get out now."

Once again the human flinched at his voice but thankfully didn't seem as scared as before. After a few seconds, the human began to shift cautiously.

By the time the other person had spoken again Virgil was pretty sure they didn't intend to murder him. But he was still confused. The last thing he remembered was being thrown overboard and left to drown.

Had another boat just happened to be near enough to see it and help him? It wasn't likely but that was all he could think of.

Until he finally got the courage to sit up and open his eyes.

The human gasped as their eyes locked onto the sharkmers tail. They seemed to freeze for a moment before their eyes rolled back and Logan lunged forward to try and catch them.

"Oh dear," Logan said as he looked down at the once again unconscious human.

He looked around the area, unsure of what to do next. The sky was beginning to shift to a morning grey and more humans would undoubtedly start making their way to the currently empty beach. Logically he should leave now and let the other humans deal with it.

Logan was feeling very illogical today.

He gently laid the human back down and waited.

It was a bit concerning how long the human remained unconscious a second time. Logan knew it was likely due to their injuries, both seen and unseen, but for some reason he couldn't help but hope they would wake up soon.

Logan kept a sharp eye on the beach. Just as the sound of voices started to travel down from the cliffs the human began to show signs of waking.

Logan hesitated longer than he probably should have before quickly making his way back to the safety of the ocean.

He hid some nearby rocks and watched as the small group of arriving humans seemed to notice the figure in the sand. When they got close the group picked up speed and surrounded the injured human.

It wasn't long before humans in matching dark clothing appeared and took the first away.

Logan took that as his queue to leave as well.

...some time later…

Virgil stared out at the ocean as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to come back to the beach so often. Honestly you'd think the almost drowning in it would make him more wary of the ocean. And while there were many things he'd rather forget, and a few he probably had, he couldn't help but think about the person he saw.

He had met the people who found him on the beach, how he got there was still a mystery, and while they were nice people, none of them were the one he'd first seen. The one who he was pretty sure saved him and cut the net.

So here he was, sitting on the dock, waiting for something to happen.

As the sun finished sinking into the ocean he almost swore he saw a large fin break the water.

#brain dead writes #blood in the water #tw kidnapping #tw torture #tw knife #tw restraints #sanders sides fan fic

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lumosinlove · 3 years

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PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:

We get our first glimpse of Finn, who is still in Saint Clair orphanage. Finn has worked out that Crucio is being given to the orphans because it allows them to see their families again and makes them want to stay at Saint Clair so they can keep receiving it—even if it means reliving memories every day that are not their own. Finn doesn’t want that at all, and he’s been in solitary for the last week because he refuses to eat, realizing that the drug is mixed in with the food.

Luke is struggling with his mother, who seems to be delighted that Luke’s father is gone. She has completely transformed into a woman Luke doesn’t recognize, offering him alcohol, and wanting to get rid of Luke’s father’s things. Luke escapes her words, retreating to his father’s study where he can take Crucio and re-arrange the events in his own mind, making it so his father never got taken away.

Remus and Sirius, at James’ house for a movie night, have an awkward exchange in the kitchen. Remus wants to ask Sirius if he wants to go sailing with him, quickly realizing the unexplainable but seemingly unavoidable crush he’s developed on Sirius, but they get interrupted by Saint.

Saint asks Remus to help him sneak into The Hogwarts History Museum, where Remus is working for the summer, but when Remus refuses, guesses he has to take matters into his own hands.

Saint finds Luke on the grasses with the others, watching a movie. Luke wants his father’s watch, which Saint stole, back, but Saint refuses. Luke can’t believe Saint has never seen many movies, but rudely puts it up to Saint’s “fucked childhood.” They argue, and it just makes Saint quietly angrier. Saint thinks more deeply about it than he lets on, though, reflecting on people’s need to control things—a need that Crucio plays on. Saint leaves, but not after stealing the keys to Luke’s car, deciding he can control things a different way—with ancient gold from an ancient pirate ship, perhaps.

Sirius follows Saint out of the house. He can tell that he’s more on edge than usual, that he has been ever since Logan arrived. Saint won’t tell him what he wants from the museum, though—a treasure map to the Voldemort. Sirius is hurt. He’s angry at himself for liking Remus. Both Sirius and Saint, it seems, have a hard time distinguishing pity and friendship.

Leo and Logan are waiting for Saint so that they can all go to the museum together. Leo asks about Finn and finds out that Logan and Finn are in love, that they’re everything to each other. It stings Leo’s slowly developing feelings for Logan.

Remus and Sirius go to the history museum to try and thwart Saint and find out he’s working with Logan and Leo, and that they’re all after The Voldemort. Saint confesses he’s trying to help Sirius, to Sirius’ surprise. Leo wants to finish his father’s work. Logan wants Finn—but no one seems willing to help him bust Finn out. When they find the drawer where the map should be kept in the museum’s archive room, however, it’s gone, having been taken out on loan by Luke’s father, Victor Deveaux. Victor and Luke loved the tale of the treasure, too. Perhaps it has something to do with Victor being sent to jail.

They go to Luke’s house where Saint climbs through Luke’s bedroom window. Saint studies a sleeping Luke, a strange, unexpected constant—a brooding, rude, beautiful one, that is. And oh, how Saint hates letting things surprise him. Saint wakes Luke, who has taken Crucio, and plans to use his father’s watch as leverage to get Luke to help them find the map.

*****cw: mentions of drugs, mentions of use of drugs, mentions of past deaths, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood*****

part vii

Luke’s father was standing over Remus’ shoulder, flickering as the Felix wore off, and it was really fucking with Luke’s head.

“Some fellow treasure hunters,” his father said with one of his soft smiles. “Sounds fun.”

“Sober up,” Remus’ voice filtered in. “What makes you sober up?”

“I’m not drunk.”

Luke watched Remus just shake his head at him. His father’s flickering frame was looking closely at Saint, who was picking up everything in sight.

“We both know what you are,” Remus replied. “Now, come on. Coffee? Anything I can do without waking your mom up.”

“She’s not going to wake up,” Luke rubbed his eyes. “She takes these—sleeping things, I don’t know.”

“Well—“ Remus hesitated. Behind him, Luke’s father flickered out.

“I’m fine,” Luke said. “What’s going on?”

“We’re bargaining, remember?” Saint held up Luke’s father’s watch again. “Tell me about your father, Deveaux.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“Well, Lupin’s already told us a little. You, him, and your treasure hunting days.”

Luke looked at Remus, who looked half-guilty and half-curious. “You mean—like when we were kids?”

Luke didn’t want to tell them about the time he had spent with his father in here, just the two of them, fantasizing about gold and pirates.

“We were at the museum just now,” Remus began slowly. “Your dad loaned out a map…it’s of the Cradle. Of a, what was it, a trading post?”

The tall, blond boy standing in a corner nodded.

Remus looked back to Luke. “Have you seen it? Here?”

“A map?” Luke scrubbed his hand over his face again. “What fucking time is it?”

“Oh, he’s swearing,” Saint said as he opened another drawer. “He’s back.”

“Fuck—” Luke clamped his mouth shut. He turned away from Saint and fully towards Remus. Sirius and another dark haired boy were standing near the blond one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Treasure?”

Remus winced. “Like the Voldemort.”

“The—what? He was never serious about that stuff,” Luke replied. “It was just for fun.”

“And yet he takes it upon himself to acquire an ancient document,” Saint piped up from behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke said again over his shoulder.

“Um—“

Luke looked towards the blond boy, who had taken a hesitant step forward.

“I know what it looks like. My dad had a copy.”

“A true father’s affair,” Saint mumbled.

“What?” Luke asked for what felt like the one hundredth time.

“If we could just look around—” the blond began.

“You come here at ass o’clock in the morning to look around may dad’s study? For a treasure map that your dad has?”

“Used to have,” the blond’s eyes went colder. “His version was lost with him and his boat.”

Luke swallowed, eyes drifting away from the other boy’s blue ones. He looked back to Remus. They used to spend hours playing pirate when they were younger. Remus looked like he was remembering those hours, too.

Luke only had to blink for that golden-edged memory to mingle with the hours Remus had held Luke close in Luke’s bed, letting Luke soak his t-shirt through when they’d taken his dad away.

“Why do you think my dad has it?” Luke said now. “What do you mean loaned?”

“We went looking for it at the museum just now,” Remus explained. “Well—not not we. Saint stole your car—”

Luke looked back at Saint. “I’m aware.”

Saint flashed a smile.

“—and went with Logan,” Remus pointed to the somber looking brunette, “and Leo,” the cold-eyed blond, “to more or less, God, break into the museum archives. If they’re going to find the treasure—which, in my opinion, they’re not—they need—”

“A map,” Luke said, then scoffed out a laugh. “You guys are fucking crazy.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Look, none of this was my idea, but your dad’s name was on the loan card. If it’s here, it's here, and then they’ll take the picture they need and we can all leave. I mean, shit, I have work at seven tomorrow morning, guys.”

Luke let out a long breath. He was tired, from being woken up and from the Felix, and he frankly wanted Saint to stop messing with his father’s things.

He nodded at Remus. “You can look around. And I will. The rest of you, don’t fucking—” he snatched one of his father’s fountain pens out of Saint’s hands. “touch anything.”

Saint just tiled his head defiantly. Luke couldn’t help but hold his gaze for a moment, remembering waking up to those syrupy eyes and feeling—he didn’t know what. Like he was standing on the edge of the Howler cliffs, above a storm-warmed, rough ocean. Saint’s hand had been in his hair, and it had been ever so gentle, unlike the rest of him. His words were tough, and, from what Luke could tell by his own jabs at Saint, so was his skin. He guessed a kid didn’t grow up the way Saint had without at least a little armor—Saint was practically drowning in his own.

As if Luke could talk. Luke looked away and gestured towards Remus. “Let’s get this over with.”

Luke opened drawers and cabinets. He looked through stacks of paper and under dressers. He checked the den, even, just in case, but there was nothing. Everything was orderly—and even more, the police had taken so much. Any paper they could get their hands on. His mom wouldn’t tell him what they were looking for, and neither would the lawyers that occasionally came to the house.

But there was no map.

Luke began to double check, if only at Remus’ insistence, but he was at a loss. There were only so many places—

“What’s your birthday, tweedle?” Saint said suddenly.

“What does that have to do—” Luke began as he turned, but his words died in his throat when he saw Saint.

Luke’s father had had the old map of Hogwarts framed and hanging in his study ever since Luke could remember. He knew its markings as well as he knew the island as it was today. Saint had it tilted to the side, revealing a sliver of sleek steel. A safe.

“I told you not to touch anything,” Luke said breathlessly. He hadn’t known about that safe. He’d stared at that map a thousand times and he hadn’t known. Did his mother know? The lawyers?

“I bet you one of Leo here’s best breakfast sandwiches that the map’s in here,” Saint replied, nodding to the frame. “Little bit of an X marks the spot, don’t you think? Now,” Saint reached for the painting and unhooked it smoothly, setting it on the ground to reveal the neat square metal sunken into the wall with a dial in the center. “Tell me your birthday.”

“Why do you think the combination is my birthday?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Because you’re his son. Fathers do that. Don’t they?”

Saint asked the last part like he was trying to be sure, but wasn’t.

“January first,” Luke replied.

Saint hummed as he leaned in. “New year, new you, huh?”

Luke just swallowed dryly as he listened to the dial tick. It felt so loud in the room that was now holding its breath. It felt like it lasted forever, but, finally, the safe opened with a gentle click.

“Damn, Saint,” Sirius said softly.

“I know, I’m so good,” Saint said, and made to push the door open when Luke pushed forward and grabbed his hand. Saint’s fingers were warm in his own. Saint raised an eyebrow.

“Like you said,” Luke still felt breathless. “I’m his son. I’m doing this.”

Saint raised his free hand in surrender until Luke let go, and he backed away. Luke faced the safe. He felt the Felix in him all over again, though it was long gone. He felt his father, smelled his cigars. Luke reached for the door, too aware of the four pairs of eyes on him, and pulled it open.

It was relatively empty. There were papers that looked like they had once bound money, but lay ripped and lifeless now. There was a case of expensive cigars.

And there was an envelope with Luke’s name on it.

“There’s a letter,” Luke said faintly, picking it up. “For me.”

He looked up at Remus, and Remus nodded.

“Like the clues he would leave us?” Remus said quietly.

Luke went for the seal—only to have it snatch out of his hands.

He looked up, eyes wide, and found the unfamiliar brunette—Logan, Remus had said—staring back at him, at all of them, with wild green eyes.

“Logan,” Leo said, voice filled with surprise. “What the hell are you—”

But Logan just backed up towards the door. There was a familiar click, and the flame of a lighter appeared in his other hand.

“Hey—” Luke stepped forward, panicked, but Saint’s palm pushed against his chest.

“Don’t,” Saint said softly, for Luke’s ears only.

“That’s mine,” Luke snarled, shoving Saint away.

“Yeah, well I have something I want, too,” Logan snapped, and then looked at Saint. He held the flame closer to the envelope. “You want to know what this says? Then—”

“So do you, Logan,” Saint said. “You need that money. You know you do. The Carrows know it, too.”

“You owe me something first. I want Finn.”

“I don’t owe you,” Saint replied evenly. “I don’t owe anyone. That’s kind of my general idea in life, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Logan faltered, and the flame slipped close enough to the envelope to make smoke trail, but when Luke stepped forward, Logan took another step back. He looked small, framed by the grand desk and leather chairs. Small and scared.

“You left us in there,” he finally whispered, and Luke thought he heard Saint’s breathing stop and hold, like a punch to the gut.

“He was seven years old,” Sirius growled, and Luke didn’t know what they were talking about, was done waiting.

“Do you know the last time I talked to my dad?” Luke said, voice raising. He glanced upstairs, careful of his mother despite her pills, and dropped it to a deadly whisper again. “He’s not allowed calls. Not until the investigation’s over. This could—” Luke hesitated at putting his wildest, most desperate hope into words. “This could prove he’s—”

“Do you think I give a shit about the last time you talked to your daddy?” Logan snarled just as harshly. “When’s the last time I talked to mine? Oh. Right.”

“Please,” Luke heard the word rip out of his throat before he could help it, but Logan wasn’t even looking at him. Logan’s eyes were on Saint.

“Help me get Finn out. The windows are barred now. There are alarms, I’ve seen them.”

“I didn’t use a window,” Saint replied.

“Then show me how you did it.”

“You won’t be able to get in the way I got out.”

“Then do it for me.”

If Luke was begging, so was Logan.

“Fuck, I’ll help you,” Luke shouted. “Just don’t. Please. My father—”

“You don’t know shit about Saint Clair,” Logan snapped, then looked back at Saint. “We both know where he is. Why I haven’t seen him. Saint—”

“All right,” Saint said, voice calm. His brown eyes reminded Luke of stormy seas, ruddy with stirred up sand. “All right, Logan. Just don’t burn the letter.”

“Promise,” Logan said.

Saint laughed, cold and clear. “What has a promise ever meant to either of us? I said I would. Take it or leave it.”

There was a terrifying moment in which Luke worried that the letter would go up in flames anyway. That he would never know what his father had wanted him to have, wanted him to know. He didn’t know Logan, didn’t trust him.

The lighter clicked off and Logan held out the envelope. Luke took it and gave Logan a shove towards the door for good measure.

“Get out,” he said. “Get out of my house.”

“What does the letter say?” Logan replied firmly. “It could be about the map.”

Luke laughed, and it rang a close twin to Saint’s in his own ears. “You should have thought about that before you held it hostage for your orphan friend.”

Logan took a step forward, mouth opening to protest, but Luke was bigger than him, stronger and taller. He met him chest to chest.

“I said get out.”

“Logan,” Saint sighed. “Listen to him.”

Leo stepped forward then, a gentle hand on Logan’s fiery frame. Logan simmered for another moment, but let Leo lead him from the room, lighter still clutched in his fist. Remus followed them with a whispered, I’m sorry that Luke barely heard.

He faintly heard Saint say something to Sirius, who followed Remus.

Saint, the only one left in the room now, looked at Luke steadily. Luke expected some sort of joke, or a snarky remark about the desperation Luke had shown—something he tried to never let slip through. He didn’t care what it was. He just wanted to be alone, to have this room feel like his father’s again. Instead of a crime scene. Instead of a lead, or a pin-point on a map. Just his father’s familiar room.

Instead Saint tossed him something that shone—his keys.

“Let us know, if you want,” Saint said simply, and held the gold watch out. Luke took it with shaking fingers, watching him go.

Then, he looked down at the letter, at his name in his father’s familiar scrawl. He peeled back the seal with a lump forming in his throat.

Remus’ steps slowed to a stop when he saw who was waiting for him at the end of his dock in the five-AM light.

Sirius had his flip-flops beside him, his feet dangling over the edge into the water, the Wolfsbane rocking gently in the early morning waves to his left.

“Sirius?” Remus called, more so that the first thing Sirius felt wasn’t the shaking of his footsteps than anything else.

Sirius jerked around, startled either way, and scrambled to stand.

“Hi,” he said. “Or, morning.”

“Morning,” Remus laughed a little, glancing at the boat. “I…is this you taking me up on my offer?”

Sirius ran a hand through his thick black hair. “Ah, well, I’m here to say sorry about last night. Dragging you into it and all. That wasn’t fair of Saint, but he’s…I don’t know what he is right now. I usually do but…not this time, I guess.”

Remus nodded, trying to buy himself time to figure out what to say. He stepped onto his boat and took a rope in hand, just for something to do. To hold onto. Sirius had spoken the words plainly enough. There was nothing about Saint and himself being together, but Remus still sensed some sort of intimacy that wasn’t quite friendship, just as he had at the museum.

“It’s okay,” Remus said. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Sirius’ smile was a small, relieved one. “I guess so. Still. He was on some sort of mission. He still hasn’t told me anything, so.”

Remus leaned back from stowing his phone and keys securely in a hatch. “He doesn’t seem like the type of person you can really get things out of.”

“That’s true,” Sirius laughed, and it was easier this time. “Anyway, I’ll let you…I just wanted to say.”

Remus wanted to ask again, if Sirius would come with him, but Sirius was already backing away and so Remus just nodded.

“Thanks.”

He turned after he said it, breathing in the ocean air and trying to still himself, to let the familiarity of his boat and sails wash over him. He would find someone. Maybe they weren’t Sirius Black. Maybe they just weren’t here. Maybe he’d fall in love on the water, or in a classroom, or—

“Can I?” Remus heard Sirius say, and turned to look. Sirius had stopped half way down the dock.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Take you up on your offer?”

Remus smiled, even if his hope at Sirius’ words paired with the thought of Saint made his heart a little tender.

“Of course you can,” Remus said.

Sirius jogged towards him with a grin of his own, but he paused before he stepped onto the Wolfsbane, looking down. Remus wondered for a moment if it was the gap over the water, but Sirius had said he sailed, too, he’d said—

Remus understood. He unmoored the nose. “Get that rope back there if you finally want to do something other than watch.”

Sirius jumped to unknot the rope with ease, and then stepped onto the waves beside Remus, using one of his feet to push them away from the dock. Remus let them drift a moment, feeling for the wind. It was quiet for now, but he could see rougher waves out past the point.

“Is it just yours?” Sirius asked as he watched Remus with the tiller.

“Yep, birthday present,” Remus patted the side. “My baby.”

Sirius smiled. “It’s a beautiful boat.”

The wind began to pick up as they got farther from the land, pushing towards the open water. Remus’ heart seemed to pick up with it and, glancing at Sirius, who looked contemplative and—well, beautiful—Remus didn’t think it was merely the sea’s doing.

Remus had never thought too much about Sirius Black. Sirius had been there one day, gone the next, and in the run-ins at James’ house once Sirius had started working there, he had been a suddenly handsome face. Grown into himself and strong from his outdoor work. In turn, Remus always became suddenly awkward around the boy who obviously didn’t like Gods. He and James poked fun at each other, he and Luke were downright hostile, and Remus didn’t know where he fit in.

He hoped the water and the Wolfsbane would do some talking for him, and maybe some listening, too.

They didn’t speak as they began to fly. The pontoons skimmed the waves and the wind would have snatched their voices away, but Remus swore he heard Sirius laugh.

Sirius knew how to sail, too. He breathed it all in, just as Remus did, and they worked together, balancing and pulling and leaning out to trace their fingers along the water’s surface. It felt as warm as a bath against the cool air.

Remus didn’t let them go too far out, he had to be back, but he would have. He would have sailed right to the horizon with Sirius without looking back.

As the wind died down, as they turned around, Remus felt something different. Like a wind change between the two of them. They grinned at each other, flushed with it, and as the wind cut down more, as they past the point, Sirius’ turned self-conscious but it didn’t disappear like before.

The boat settled into a glide towards the shore. Remus let his feet dangle in the water.

“So, the treasure,” Remus asked, because Sirius looked hesitant to talk, sitting there soundly on the other side of the boat. “Do you think it’s real?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sirius replied, and Remus laughed. “But if Saint thinks it’s worth it…I’ll try to go along with it.”

Remus nodded, taking that in. Saint. The mention of him slowed his heart back to a glide along with the boat. Remus cleared his throat and Sirius looked back at him from the horizon questioningly.

“What was that thing with—Logan? I mean, you don’t have to tell me but…”

Sirius took a long breath. “Logan has someone, Finn, inside Saint Clair. Finn helped him escape. And I don’t know if it’s guilt that’s making him help to get Finn out, or something more, but…Saint's the one who can help.”

“Because he escaped.”

Sirius nodded. “Right.”

“Is it complicated?” Remus asked. “Like, is he worried he won’t be able to do it twice?”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not complicated.”

He was silent for a moment, and Remus didn't want to push him. He waited, seeing if Sirius would continue.

“Saint walked right out the front door,” Sirius finally finished, and looked at Remus. “I think he’s worried because it wasn’t a grand escape, even if he tells it that way. Even if he makes it seem like he climbed walls or something. He’s worried because…because it was a fluke. Sometimes there are doors you can’t walk back through.”

Sirius said the last sentence heavily, as if he had a door of his own. Remus guessed that maybe everyone did.

“So, what’s he going to do for Finn and Logan?”

Sirius just shook his head again. “I have no idea. But I’ll help him in any way that I can.” Half a smile raised Sirius’ mouth. “If he lets me.”

“No.”

“Tell me,” Sirius demanded. Saint just rolled his eyes and popped a sweet potato fry into his mouth.

“Tell us,” Dorcas cut in from her place beside Marlene.

“Right,” Sirius said. “Sorry.”

“Saint,” Marlene sighed. “If you’re not going to tell us, it’ll make us think you have no plan at all.”

“Who invited the God?” Saint said airily.

“My girlfriend,” Dorcas scuffed the back of his head.

“Not for long she’s not,” Saint replied, and at Dorcas and Marlene’s expressions, waved a hand. “Come on. She’s going to college, Dor, you’re not…don’t tell me you haven’t talked about it.”

“We—” Dorcas began, but flushed and closed her mouth. Sirius glanced at Marlene, whose eyes were firmly down towards her burger.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Sirius sighed.

“I’m not, I’m just telling everyone what to expect.”

“Saint,” Sirius leaned forward. “How are you going to get Finn out of Saint Clair? You said last time—”

Saint cut in quickly, “I say a lot of things to you that are just for you, Black.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do with what you said,” Sirius replied. “Come on. Please. Is it because you don’t know? Is that why you won’t say anything?”

Saint stayed quiet, looking down at his food. “I know. We’ll just have to see if it works.”

“Saint,” Dorcas leaned forward and Saint turned his palm up for her hand. He knew they were trying to help. “Babe, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You mean you want to make sure it’s not too insane.”

Sirius nodded. “That, too.”

“Can’t you just rest assured that I’m doing this for myself, too?” Saint said. “I’ll get Finn out, Logan will calm the fuck down, and maybe Luke will let us know about the treasure.”

“Who gives a fuck about this treasure?” Dorcas said harshly.

“It probably doesn’t even exist,” Sirius added.

“You want off this island, like you said? Then you give a fuck.”

Sirius began to shake his head. “It’s not—” he said, but Saint pushed on, voice raising.

“We’ll get Finn out, we’ll get Luke’s help, we’ll get the map, we’ll find my mom—”

Saint stopped talking, frozen by the words that had ripped out of him of their own accord.

Sirius, Dorcas, and Marlene’s eyes were wide. Pity. The word seemed to hang in the air.

“The treasure, I meant,” Saint managed. “We’ll find the treasure and…”

“Saint…” Dorcas said, and when he looked at her…Pity. “Do you know where she is?”

Saint was furious with himself for the slip. He was looking for Sirius. He wanted the treasure for Sirius, he didn’t need it for himself. He didn’t need anything, especially not people who left. Not his mom, not Sirius.

“I don’t need help with Saint Clair,” Saint said and pushed his chair back, leaving them staring at each other across the table.

Saint hadn’t let any of them come. He didn’t want anyone here to see him tremble and shake at doing the one thing he had always promised himself he would never do. The one thing he didn’t think he could do.

But, thinking about it, the trick wasn’t getting out. Anyone could walk out the door. The nuns needed it that way, for business. For the appearance of normalcy. The real trick was getting inside without being let in. The way to keep secrets, after all, wasn’t keeping everyone out. Walls begged to be breached. The secret was to filter the truth. Let people see half, a quarter, or different parts at different times. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Maybe Saint was half of Saint Clair, keeping his cards close to his chest.

The offices. He needed to get the the offices, and then he needed to get to Finn. In and out—just not through the door this time.

“What’s the plan?” said a voice just behind him, and Saint closed his eyes.

Sirius.

“I told you not to come,” Saint said.

“And I told me yes,” Sirius parroted. They rolled their eyes at each other even as Sirius rested a gentle hand over Saint’s where it was clenched over his own knee. They crouched beside each other, staring at Saint Clair in the darkness. It was two in the morning, maybe a little past it now, and Saint wanted everyone to be asleep.

He looked towards the chimney. It was wide and old fashioned. It would be too hot for them to be using it tonight.

“Jesus Christ,” Sirius sighed, following his gaze.

“The windows are barred. The doors are alarmed. I’ve cleaned that thing, I know it’s big.”

“Yeah, everything looks big to a seven year old,” Sirius countered.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“And getting out?” Sirius asked.

“Alarms don’t go off if you open the door from the inside. There’s a kitchen door around the back. We’ll use it. We just have to get in.”

Sirius nodded slowly, and then asked, “Your mom?”

Saint pressed his lips together. He needed to get to the office, and then to Finn, and then out.

He started forward towards the drain pipe, just like on Luke’s house, and didn’t look to see if Sirius was following him.

Marlene didn’t like seeing that contemplating look at Dorcas’ face. Dorcas was chewing on her lip, eyes staring at the movie playing on Marlene’s laptop, but she was somewhere else entirely. Marlene put her pencil down at wiggled her toes, which were in Dorcas’ lap. Dorcas blinked and looked at her.

“Don’t listen to Saint,” Marlene said. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

But even saying that ate at her. Marlene thought of the acceptance email, of California and Berkeley, buried in her inbox right now. Tell her, said everything inside, but Dorcas already had that look on her face. The worrying, I-want-everything-that’s-good-for-you-regardless-of-what-it-means-for-me-or-us look.

Marlene didn’t want to see that look. She’d seen it the first time her father had banned her from seeing a Salazar girl. They had been fifteen and Dorcas had offered to stop, and Marlene had kissed the idea right out of her mouth, right out of existence.

This was different. She couldn’t kiss college away. She didn’t want to. But she also wanted Dorcas, and California felt far, far away.

Dorcas chewed on her lip some more, then rubbed a soothing thumb over Marlene’s ankle. “We haven’t really talked about it, though.”

“I know,” Marlene said softly. She pushed herself up and set her sketchbook aside before reaching over to close the laptop, cutting the actor off in mid-sentence. “I guess I’m sort of…avoiding it.”

“We are, you mean,” Dorcas offered her a small smile. “I…I know we said we wanted to just have our summer, and I do want that. But I think I would feel better knowing what you think. About, you know…about when you do start hearing back.”

Marlene looked down as she whispered, “I got into Berkeley.”

A short sucked-out sound of silence filtered in between them for a moment. Marlene looked up.

“I should have said,” Marlene sighed. “I know I should have. I just…”

“Sweetheart,” Dorcas sighed, and then Marlene was pressed back onto the bed, Dorcas’ hard kisses bringing a hot blush to her cheeks. “That’s amazing.”

Marlene hummed against Dorcas’ mouth, a sad-happy sound, and wound her fingers into her hair as Dorcas kissed along her jaw. “It can be as amazing as it wants, but it’s really far away. And you like it here, and—”

“I like you,” Dorcas said, and pushed herself onto her forearms so she could look down at Marlene. “Marls, the question about us was never a debate about you following your dreams and going to college, just like you want. The question lies with me. I don’t know how to pull off following you yet, but I’m working on it.”

Marlene looked up at her and felt tears join the heat within, felt her voice wobble. “I’ll miss you. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be with me.”

Dorcas’ kiss was softer this time. “Me too.”

Marlene enjoyed it for a moment, relief bubbling in her chest, until Dorcas began laughing into her mouth.

“Maybe the boys will find that treasure and give me a piece of it.”

Marlene laughed, too. “God, if that’s our best option…”

They wound tighter together, snuggling down into Marlene’s quilt. Dorcas pressed her forehead against Marlene’s.

“Whatever I can do, I’ll do it,” Dorcas said. “I want you, wherever we are.”

Marlene just kissed her again.

Sirius was noisier on the climb than Saint would have liked, but they made it to the slanted roof without trouble, standing on its apex to stare down into the soot-dark.

“Is this really going to work?” Sirius whispered.

“It could.”

“Why not climb the fence? Maybe that door is open.”

“Too loud.”

“Why didn’t you let Logan come with us?”

Saint huffed out an annoyed breath. “Because if this goes wrong, what Finn did was for nothing. If this goes really wrong, at least there would still be one of us on the outside who knows what it looks like inside,” Saint stared out at the trees and bit of coast they could see by moonlight from here. “One of us who doesn’t return every night, that is.”

Saint went down the chimney first, one step at a time. The stones and rusted iron rungs provided easy enough footholds, they just had to hope no one was having a midnight cup of tea when they reached the bottom. He looked up once, blinking through the fine grit of ash that seemed to hang in the air, at Sirius’ face, the silver moonlight like a halo around his dark hair.

And Saint kept climbing down. He went slowly, listening hard. If someone was down there, they’d hear him, and then he’d hear them, and he could scramble back up the chimney and out of sight. Once he was down, however, who knew what they would do to keep him that way. He could practically taste the heavy sleep of Crucio, and his stomach rolled against the images it brought back. The many different families—fathers, siblings, and mothers. So many mothers that he didn’t even know which had been his own anymore.

He hated them for it. He hated them for thinking he wanted that.

Saint’s trembling foot slipped on the last hold and he tumbled out, only barely withholding a cry as the log holders scraped heavily across his side.

“Saint,” came Sirius’ harsh whisper from above him, and Saint waved a hand beneath the flue to show he was okay, then pushed himself up from the now ashy floor, gripping his side.

He knew this room too well. He knew it through the over-active eyes of a five year old. He knew it through the only slightly more alert gaze of his seven year old self.

It was smaller than he remembered. Shabbier than it had seemed then, with its hard couches and children’s books, its desk by the window that still held a letter opener that he had eyed a few times, wondering if he could fight his way out like heroes did in the books he read. Now, he willed all to stay quiet as he walked over and picked up the dull knife. He hated the sight of it.

Sirius came after him, more smartly, landing feet first.

“You could have fucking impaled yourself,” Sirius whispered.

“I didn’t, though,” Saint said, and looked at his ribs. The cuts stung, but the bleeding didn’t look too bad, just enough to dot uneven lines across his t-shirt.

Sirius lifted his shirt to see, and passed a careful thumb near the worst of them, his other a familiar weight on the side of Saint’s neck.

“Let’s go,” Saint whispered.

“Wait,” Sirius said, and turned Saint’s gaze gently to meet his own.

“We don’t have all the time in the world,” Saint began, but Sirius just shook his head, silencing him.

“Listen to me,” Sirius whispered. “All right? Just this once. Just listen to me.”

Saint closed his eyes briefly. “We don’t have time to talk.”

That only succeeded in bringing Sirius’ other hand to his cheek. “If something goes wrong, you just run.” Sirius reached down and took the knife, setting it back on the desk. “Don’t think about me. They can’t keep me.”

“They’ll give you to your parents,” Saint warned.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said. “They can’t keep me. They could try to keep you and I won’t let that happen.”

Saint looked up at Sirius. The only person he could ever remember caring. Saint didn’t like that a side effect of being cared about was caring back, didn’t like that risk…but he liked Sirius.

“You’re leaving anyway,” Saint said. “It doesn’t matter where I am.”

“I never said that and you’re wrong.”

“But you will say it.”

Saint turned away, keeping a hand laced with Sirius’ to pull him towards the dorms. He knew the words sounded accusing and regretful, but he only half meant them that way. Sirius deserved to go.

Sirius didn’t respond. It wasn’t the moment, and they needed to listen for other things.

The dorms came up on their left. Boys to one side of the hall, girls to the other. Saint paused, looking in.

You’ll sleep here with the rest of the boys, Sebastian. Be a good boy and make your bed every morning and you’ll get a treat with breakfast. Chocolate milk, how does that sound?

“Was this you?” Sirius whispered, and Saint shrugged.

“I slept all over this place,” Saint breathed to Sirius. “I’d sneak into the other dorms, the attic, the reading room. I was just…” Saint turned away, unable to stand the softly rising and falling chests of the boys within. “I was just trying to find a place where I felt like myself. Maybe it wasn’t the place, though.”

Maybe it was the dreams. Maybe the drug.

“Maybe it’s just me,” Saint said.

Grimmauld was the closest he had ever gotten, the most settled he’d ever felt. He loved the ocean, and his gold draped vanity, and Sirius always beside him. But there was still—something. A misplaced, tweaked something inside of him that was feeling around in the dark for a comfortable position. Saint didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he did know that it was too dark to find it right now. Sirius had been the first gleam of bright, a pin-prick of a star, a friend, a lover, and a safe place. But stars weren’t a moon or a sun. He needed light to see.

“Let’s go,” Saint said. “This way.”

They walked the halls carefully, listening after nearly every step. Saint knew that the nuns slept at the other end of the house, but that they woke to check in on the children. He couldn’t remember when, though. With the Crucio, his young age, and the late hour, the nights had felt the same and endless. He’d shuffled around like a small ghost, trying to escape the unfamiliar dream-faces. They’d only caught him a few times. A slap on the wrist. Solitary.

That’s why he nearly jumped when they heard the first footsteps. He was seven again, haunting this place and being haunted in return. Saint froze, eyes on the bend in the hallway.

“Here,” Sirius whispered, and together they ducked into a room—the offices, Saint realized—and behind the open wooden door. They huddled together, barely daring to breathe as the footsteps got closer.

“Sirius,” Saint breathed, and didn’t realize he was trembling again until Sirius’ arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Shh,” Sirius hushed him.

The footsteps passed right by them, towards the kitchen, Saint realized, and Sirius pressed Saint against him more tightly, no doubt feeling the dry pants that his breathing had turned into. They would be caught. They would be seen. Saint hid his face in Sirius’ neck.

Don’t be a waste of space, boy. Line up, after number six, come on.

He took up too much space here.

Try that again, Sebastian, and you know what happens.

Saint hated that name. He couldn’t remember who had given him that name. His mother? The nuns? What was a name if it was just a number, too? A way to keep track of him. A way to tell him what he was. Orphan boy. Five. Six. Seven. Abandoned. Good. Bad. Asleep. Awake.

Go to sleep now, there’s a good boy.

The hall was silent again and Saint felt Sirius’ embrace ease, felt his hand running soothingly along his spine.

“I’ve got you,” Sirius said the words so quietly they were barely words at all. “Let’s just go. Let’s get out of here.”

“Finn,” Saint rasped.

Saint looked up and saw the protest in Sirius’ eyes. It was wrong of Logan to make you come here.

“I told him to stay away,” Saint said softly. “I needed to come. I needed to come and get out again.”

Saint needed to get rid of some of this damned dark.

Saint pulled away from Sirius carefully and peaked around the door with a dry swallow before walking over to the cabinets. Records. They weren’t in alphabetical order, though. They were numbered.

Saint fingered his cross, looking towards 1-20.

He traced a finger over a key hole dejectedly, and tried the handle anyway. Locked.

“Saint,” Sirius breathed. “Your mom?”

Saint shook his head, clutching his necklace. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t know you wanted…”

“I don’t,” Saint snapped. “Let’s get Finn.”

The door to solitary was one that Saint knew well. It was a normal door, and the room beyond was a normal room. It was the memories that made it unbearable to see. Almost every kid Saint had known knew what it meant to be in that room. Alone, the wallpaper flowers withered, the bed turned cold, and the ever-changing family members flickered through your mind without anything to counter it. No reality. There was a glass window with the shade pulled. Saint hesitated for a long moment before lifting it up.

“Finn,” he breathed.

Finn’s red hair was fiery against the white bed spread. He was asleep, and Saint swore he could see Finn’s eyelids flicker from here.

Saint wrapped his fingers carefully around the door. The trick was getting in to see the whole picture.

Everything in Saint Clair felt locked from within. Everything in Saint did, too. It had taken years of wandering around at night for Saint to discover that he could open more doors than he had thought. He was still trying doors eight years alter.

The hinges didn’t so much as squeak, and Saint felt like a ghost again.

“Don’t let this close on me,” Saint whispered to Sirius. His voice shook and just one of his feet just barely breaching the threshold.

Sirius held the frame fast and shook his head, leaning forward to press a steady kiss to Saint’s forehead.

Saint crossed the small room in two slow steps and knelt beside the bed, the motion making the punctures on his torso ache. He pressed a hand to Finn’s cheek and stroked a gentle thumb across the freckles on his skin until Finn stirred.

“Bash,” Finn murmured, eyes barely open.

“Hi, Finn,” Saint said softly and gathered Finn into a sloppy sitting position. “Let’s get you out of here, huh? See if you’re worth all of this fucking trouble.”

“Crucio,” was Finn’s only half-spoken reply. “They make it.”

And then Finn went limp again in Saint’s arms.

All Logan could taste was sour guilt, despite the heaven Leo had placed on a plate in front of him not too long ago.

For Saint. For Leo. For the letter and even Luke. For the map. The treasure. The Carrows.

Finn.

His heart ached with the thought of seeing him. Of holding him.

“Why weren’t we allowed to go with him?” Logan asked Leo for what he knew was the tenth time, but he couldn’t help it. “I asked him to help me, not go for me.”

“It’s easier to get one person in and out than two?” Leo said. He was puttering around the small kitchen, had been for the last hour, and the entire house smelled like sugar and cinnamon now, replacing the herbs, lemon, and chicken. He didn’t look at Logan when he said it.

He hadn’t looked at Logan much at all since the night at the museum.

Logan watched him taste a bit of what looked like frosting and wet his lips.

“Are you mad at me?” Logan whispered.

Leo’s restless hands paused. Logan watched his chest rise and fall once.

“I’m not mad,” Leo said finally. The heat of the oven had fluffed out his hair. “I mean, I’m not sure if we reached a dead-end or not…and you could have told me you were going to do that. I said I would help you, didn’t I?”

“I needed Ba—Saint,” Logan replied. “But I also…I should have told you. And I shouldn’t have made Saint go. I just want…he’s my family. Finn is my…”

“I understand why you did it,” Leo cut in softly. “I probably would have done worse if I thought that there was something that could save my dad.”

That just made Logan feel even smaller, sitting at the table. Leo glanced at him, gave him a tight smile, then went to the sink and began scrubbing dishes.

“Hey,” Logan said, then rose and strode over to Leo. “Hey, let me clean up.”

“I just need something to do,” Leo said shortly.

“Me, too.”

They stood, their shoulders pressed together. Logan washed. Leo dried. He slipped cinnamon rolls into the oven and then returned. They kept close to each other at the sink and it felt…so normal. Like a home. Leo felt like a home.

“I never really thanked you properly,” Logan said into the now more comfortable silence. “For letting me stay with you. And—I just want to say, and now with Finn…I understand if you want us to leave. I mean, three’s a crowd.”

“You’re welcome here,” Leo said quickly. Logan watched his throat bob. He was looking away again. “You should do what feels best for you, but you’re both welcome here. Just—”

Leo paused, and Logan found himself suddenly desperate to hear what he had to say. He knew he hadn’t been friendly all the time. He knew he’d been selfish. Leo had been nothing but kind. He was funny and warm, teaching Logan how to weld two pieces of metal, talking about the latest book he was reading while he whisked batter and handed Logan different new recipes he was trying out.

Finn would like Leo, Logan thought, and glanced towards the door. Maybe he was about to find out.

“Never mind,” Leo said, and flashed a smile.

Logan went to protest, but then his phone began buzzing madly on the table and he all but lunged for it.

Luke stared down at his father’s handwriting.

Luke, it began. And then there was a name.

Pascal Dumais.

There was no mention of himself. There was nothing. Luke had thought this would make him feel better, make it easier. Only, now, he was frustrated to the point of tears. He couldn’t seem to ease the lump that was lodged in his throat. He clutched the paper in his fingers hard enough to tear, willing something else to appear on it. He thought of Felix.

“Well?” said a voice from his window.

“Oh—” Luke flinched, surprised, then cursed at Saint, who was stretched out on his window sill. “Come on. Are you kidding me?”

Saint’s mouth twitched up in a smile, but it was strained. He was sitting awkwardly, tense rather than his usual languid posture.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asked hesitantly, trying to discreetly wipe at his face.

“What isn’t?”

Luke spotted the blood between Saint’s fingers and rose. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell down a chimney.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No.”

Luke blinked. “That’s how you got into Saint Clair? And you climbed to my window?”

Saint pulled himself all the way through the window with a soft groan and Luke walked forward, hands hovering near Saint’s shoulders, unsure if he should help.

“The orphan?” he asked instead, then at Saint’s sharp look, “Finn?”

“Sirius is bringing him to Grimmauld.”

“What’s Grimmauld?”

Saint sat down heavily in Luke’s desk chair, hand still pressed to his side. He had what looked like soot on his hands and face. “A place.” He picked up a book. Jane Eyre. “Didn’t take you for a romantic.”

“You’re bleeding all over my room.”

“Lucky you.”

Luke tucked the note into the pocket of his shorts. “Fuck—come here. Jesus.”

He walked into his bathroom and jammed the light switch up, looking back when Saint didn’t follow him. “Come here.”

Saint rose, still holding the book. “I am coming!” Saint quoted, head tilted in a way that made his neck look long. “Wait for me! Oh, I will come!”

“Very funny,” Luke sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a reader.”

“Why?” Saint said as he stepped out of the darkness of the bedroom and into the yellow-lighted bathroom. His brown eyes took on the soft yellow, too, and he leaned forward as he pushed himself up onto the counter carefully. “Because I don’t buy my books and,” Saint looked down at the book, flipping through it. “Write all over them like you do?”

“Because you didn’t go to school,” Luke said with a raised eyebrow as he ducked for the first aid kit beneath his sink. It was good to have one near during the lacrosse season—or it used to be.

Saint rolled his eyes. “You Gods and your single paths in life. You’re all stupid.”

“Then why are you here?” Luke asked as he unlatched the kit.

“Because this is the last place anyone would look for me,” Saint replied. “And you’re mean.”

“Mean? Are we in seventh grade?” Luke scoffed as he wet a towel in the sink. “I don’t know if it’s healthy to want to be around people who you think are mean to you."

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Saint said. “And that’s all Sirius will want to do. And I don’t want to. And we don’t have this shit at Grimmauld.”

“Is that where you live?”

Saint just set the book down and reached behind himself to tug his shirt over his head. Luke tried not to stare at Saint’s smooth, light brown skin. He swallowed, busying himself with the bandages and the wet towel again.

“For all the breaking into places you do, maybe you should invest in some band-aids,” Luke said, and glanced down at the finely woven muscle on Saint’s ribs, at the red edges of the slashes. “If you flinch too much, you’re doing this yourself.”

Saint smiled. “Mean.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said, out of reflex, and then pressed his lips together. Saint laughed and then hissed as Luke pressed the towel to the cut.

They were close like this, Luke leaned in to dab the blood away, and then dot it with disinfectant, all while Saint’s muscles jumped beneath the palm he had steadied low on his belly. He could feel Saint watching him, and remembered waking up to those eyes. Saint’s hand in his hair.

“How did you do it?” Luke said into the small space between them. “Get in and out.”

“The chimney.”

So, he was serious.

“What did the letter say?” Saint asked.

Luke glanced up at him warily, but wiped a hand on his shorts before fishing the letter out of his pocket and handing it over. “Do you know who that is?”

Saint read it quietly, and then met Luke’s eyes. Luke was stuck there, pinned like a tack in a map, marking the place to be.

“Yes,” Saint said, and smiled brightly. “I know exactly who this is.”

#relic keel lumosinlove #Harry Potter fic #lumosinlove ocs #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #dorlene #jily #saint #Luke deveaux #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #o'knutzy #wolfstar

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IX

Word Count: 3,087 Warnings: PTSD. Children. Fluff. Angst. Emotions. Dialogue heavy bullshit. Author's Note: Welp... this is it, y'all. I posted the first chapter of this on March 4, 2021, and it's coming to a close today on April 5, 2021, and I'm... a goddamn mess. I'm not ready to let these characters go, both the TF boys and my own character in Leah. I really appreciate all your kindness and encouragement throughout writing this, my whole heart belongs to you. Thank you, I hope you love this as much as I love you.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Her room is painted like a sunrise. He remembers the first time he went up there, like it was the first breath he ever took. All rising pinks and melting blues.

He wanted her to feel that freedom from the beginning.

Leah’s hands climb his back, a kiss pressed to the hot skin between his shoulder blades as he dips to pluck his peaceful little girl out of slumber.

“Baby, let her sleep.”

But he’s shaking his head, careful with hers in his hand, “she can sleep later, I need her with me now.”

“Hmm,” she hums, turning him to guide him back to their bedroom, “keep that enthusiasm.”

Their shuffle is quiet, Luna’s big eyes slipping back to sleep nestled into her fathers shoulder.

He’s been home for over half a year and as he crawls back into bed, baby and wife clinging to him, part of him still can’t believe it. That after everything he told her, she let him stay. That, like tonight, she’s soothed the new nightmares like the old. That he celebrated Christmas with them, Luna’s first.

That he watched her lift herself up and take her first steps. That after all he had done, those first steps were towards him.

That he helped blow out the candles that he helped light, on the cake he helped make for the little girl who has her daddy’s eyes. His dimple. His smile.

One hand splayed across each of their backs, he’s talking to Leah but directing it at Luna when her bright brown eyes open again to find his.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, Leah’s soft hand falling on his under her small back, “I’m sorry that mama and papa woke you up.”

She reaches a tiny hand up to his face and he melts into the small touch of her, his heart swelling at the unbelievable luck he has in chances granted again and again when a little, “papa,” tumbles forward in the softly lit room.

He feels Leah jump and his eyes snap to hers before they both fall back to Luna, just over one year.

“She just sa—“

“Say it again, baby,” Leah coos, tears spilling over Frankie’s eyes.

She doesn’t understand but as she grabs for him, the small voice repeats, “papa,” and he didn’t know his heart could feel so full despite all the compounding moments of fullness she’s brought to him. That they both have.

He bites his lip while looking into Leah’s glassy eyes and knows that her heart is just as swollen in this moment and all the others.

“The next one’s first word will be mama,” his hand finds the small swell of her lower belly, “I promise.” —————

She presses a coffee cup into his hand before taking a seat across from him on the living room floor, baby toys and blankets strewn across the space between them.

“What happened?”

He takes a deep breath, finding the words he spoke out loud to his team in Lorea’s mansion, “A serious fuck up.”

“I figured that much, Francisco, but what happened?”

So he tells her and she lets him.

He tells her about the seventeen grand of Santi’s own money. How he promised himself no live fire and let himself and his desperation to give her and Luna and himself the best lead him into shattering his soul again. Ripping it up as life drained from the eyes of his fellow human beings and how he didn’t even have the protection of a flag on his shoulder to ease a semblance of that pain. How even if they were bad guys, they weren’t his bad guys to worry about.

He tells her about the helicopter crash, the result of his own greed for the money and for a lack of conflict led to more loss and conflict. How he doesn’t know if he’s the one who fired first on that village but he knows he fired, an automatic weapon slung across his shoulders as easily as the diaper bag he carries through the grocery store for her.

He tells her about the crumbling mountainside, how all he saw at the bottom looking down was himself never coming home to his girls. How that’s when something within him finally snapped, when he and Will silently decided to take the reigns from Tom and Santi’s hands.

He tells her about the fire, burning hundreds of thousands of dollars to keep warm in the freezing air that wrapped around the Andes. About the gunfire that followed them through the rocks in the morning sun.

About standing over Tom’s dead body, the relief and guilt crashing inside him like a warm front meeting a cold one. How he thinks he’ll feel those both every day that he wakes because, unlike the survivor’s guilt easing through you on active duty at the knowledge that this just happens sometimes, this time was different.

He tells her that, after all of that, he threw millions of dollars down a snowy ravine in the middle of Peru where no one would ever see it again, not even his girls who needed it so much because he realized it wouldn’t be fucking worth it for them to have it if it meant not coming home.

He tells her how he almost shot that kid in the jungle. How he would’ve shot every kid standing between him and the boat to get home to his own.

He tells her that he thinks, at the end of it all, Santiago and his plan ended up doing more damage to that country than not.

She listens intently, focused wholly on him. Her face never breaks but he can see the cogs turning behind her eyes, trying to take it all in. Trying to understand.

“I understand if you want me to leave, if you never want to see me again,” he reaches out for her hand, a shiver of shock running through his spine when she doesn’t pull away from him.

Blinking as the words catch up with her, her head shakes, “I just got you back, Francisco, you promised me you wouldn’t leave again so why the fuck do you think I want you to go now?”

“Because what I did is unforgiv—“

“It’s not, there are terrible men in this world who do worse everyday,” he sees the slight sheen of tears coat her lashes, “and you helped stop one of them.”

“There will be others to take his place,” he says around a sip of his drink, his coffee gone cold in the spaces between all his words.

Her hand gives a squeeze to the one it holds, “there will always be others to take his place.”

His breathing evens out, anchored in his chest by a warmth he doesn’t deserve, “there's something else you need to know.”

He tells her about the five million dollars they were able to make it to the boat with, “we signed it all over to Molly and the girls. Will and Benny and I, we decided to do so while Santi was sleeping. We figured, ya know, at least we were coming home. It wasn’t really money we were losing since it was never ours to begin with, Tom’s family lost everything and they didn’t even know it.”

The tears do come now, streams running down his face, “I couldn’t stop thinking about how close you came to losing everything and not even knowing it too.”

His stunted words around the hiccups in his throat draw Luna’s attention, her babbles reaching out to him the way she tried to soothe Leah’s over the weeks prior. Their attention is on her now, eyes wide as she lifts herself with the couch for leverage.

She toddles one step towards his still shaking body before tumbling forward, his hands dropping the now empty coffee cup and Leah’s hand to catch her.

He pulls her small body close, hiding his face in the crook of her neck to inhale the scent of baby lotion. As she giggles in his ear, he looks up to Leah’s soft face, “the boys and I still took three hundred thousand.” —————

“You're fucking insane,” Deana doesn’t quite whisper into Leah’s ear, “a whole ass baby with another one barely even a year old, have you heard of a condom?”

“How many mimosas did you have already, D?”

Kristyn struggles with her key in the door, a large bag in hand, “judging by the slight slur, I’m going with about three so far.”

“Fuck off, K,” she points, turning back to Leah, “I'm just saying that if that big goofy idiot husband of yours goes on another of his boy’s trips, I will kill him this time.”

Her fingers are still quoting around the air as the threat falls around them, Frankie’s attention at the other end of the room grabbed away from the pureed carrots of Luna’s lunch.

“Well,” Kristyn interjects, holding the bag forward, “that’s why I come bearing the gift of one Benjamin Miller, he couldn’t be here because of a boy’s trip.”

“What do you mean?”

Leah looks back at Frankie, his eyes now turned to the conversation. She sees the pain and confusion there, he didn’t know.

Kristyn follows Leah’s gaze before looking back at the older sister in front of her, “he promised me this was his last one and he’s sorry it had to take place during your baby shower but,“ she holds the bag out again, “he says you’ll like this one.”

“It's not a shower,” Leah rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kristyn interjects, “a sprinkle. Whatever.”

“It’s not even that since, ya know,” she looks down at the tiny bundle in her arms, “he's already here.”

“A birthday present then,” she beams, “Benny says he’ll set it up when he gets home.”

Frankie’s laughter finds them now, choking around the baby food he’s trying to convince his stubborn daughter of—she’s not and she’s learned how to voice that disgust with all thanks given to her Uncle Benny.

“Baby, it’s another military surveillance camera.”

Kristyn laughs, “yeah, our whole house is strung up with them at this point but they come in handy to watch the neighbors since I’m nosy.”

“When did they leave?” His voice is small, a slight worry behind it.

Kristyn lets out a breath, “about four hours ago, he made me promise not to tell you until he was gone.”

He just nods his head, a silent clock beginning to tick in his brain. —��———

It’s been two weeks since he heard from Ben or Will.

The boys have been here day in and day out since they came home last year, always were before that and even more so now that all they truly had was each other and the families they were making with and around each other.

Benny ran through Kristyn’s apartment complex screaming her name so loud as he started to bang on her door that he was met with a baseball bat. Now that idiot was going to be his brother because the sight she was met with was one of Benjamin Miller on his knees with a ring in his hands.

They gave them space with the baby’s arrival, small and short visits until Leah felt ready to have them all over again. He spoke to them that morning as he shaved the night’s stubble away, they talked like they were coming by and how they couldn’t get enough of their new nephew. How they were getting him the best present.

Frankie runs his forefinger and thumb along his mustache now, the compromise of facial hair he settled on. He didn’t want his full and sparse beard but he also felt lighter at the way Leah laughed into him with every brush of his lips.

He’s pacing the living room, bouncing the baby as Leah and Luna nap upstairs. There's only silence and the soft gurgling of a newborn when the quiet knock comes.

Already close to the entryway, he closes the distance and whispers a silent prayer to himself. A prayer that this isn’t bad news. That this is Will or Benny, not using their keys out of courtesy to the newness of little life inside his home.

He opens the door and is met with the tired eyes of Santiago Garcia.

“Hey, Frank,” he says. All bravado of his being seeped from him and replaced with, what sounds like, apology.

He adjusts his son in his hold, ushering the shorter man in so the warmth of the house doesn’t keep seeping out, “I thought you were in Australia.”

“Yeah, well,” he turns to face Frankie again as the door closes, “I make some really shit decisions sometimes.”

Frankie scoffs, half a laugh hidden in the sound. He’s not wrong but he’s not exactly right either.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He’s walked through to the kitchen, the shorter man falling in pace beside him, “we’re a dry household right now with the baby and my therapy bu—“

“Nah, Fis-Frank,” he stutters, “just came to talk to you. And Leah. She around?”

“She’s resting but I can pass along a message if I like it.”

Santi reaches into the leather folder he always carries around and produces a booklet, the one from the lawyer in St. John’s.

But different, a different cover and date, a different name stamped across the front.

“The boys sent me to give you this alone, said we needed to talk about a few more things than just this. Said I needed to apologize to you and to your wife, that I owed you that for so much but especially roping you into that shit last year.”

“Water under the bridge,” Frankie replies softly, changing direction to move through to the living room, “I gave up on an apology a long time ago and Leah never expected one, but nobody’s mad at you.”

Frankie carries the bassinet into sight from the kitchen before walking back, “what is this, Pope?”

“It’s your cut, we went back.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re stupid and greedy and we fucked ourselves up getting it in the first place so we figured we’d go back and we figured we fucking owed you.”

Frankie squints at the shorter man, searching his eyes for the hint of a joke he’s not laughing at. There is none. His cold brown stare is dead serious.

“This is my apology to you, Fran—“

“Frankie,” Leah’s voice filters into the room, he can hear her sleepy shuffle as she pads across the carpet now, “did you feed Santiago while I was asleep or should I?”

“I fed him, baby,” he calls over his shoulder.

He looks back at the man who helped shape his life, tears welling in his eyes, and hears Leah talking about ordering Chinese for dinner as she crosses the threshold but he doesn’t hear her. He can’t hear anything over the squeeze around his midsection, Santi’s quiet strength taking all of his air and senses.

He lets go as quickly as he grabbed him, Leah’s presence heavy in the room now and he crosses the room to gather her in his arms, a kiss pressed to each cheek and then her hair. He’s careful not to hug as hard as he had Frankie, conscious of her still healing body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between them, “for everything I’ve done and everything I wasn’t around for.”

She’s trying to catch her breath, trying not to cry herself, “it's oka—“

“I should’ve been here for you guys.”

Her small hand comes up to pat the curls, a little more gray than a year ago, “you are now.”

He pulls away from her, a hitch in his voice as he says, “can I hold him?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “but you gotta wash your face and hands, no tears or snot on my baby.”

He mumbles to himself about how that makes sense as he moves to the sink, fumbling over the soap in the holder as he shakes with nerves.

She makes her way across the kitchen, wrapping her still sleepy being around that of her wide awake husband. The low lying winter sun is filtering through the windows, bathing everything in soft, warm light.

She sees the golden cover of the booklet on the counter and taps it, “what's this?”

Daylight Family Trust is stamped across in big bold words.

“That was the boy’s trip,” he whispers, “that’s our cut.”

He watches her as she slowly reaches for the document, the one that explains how this all works and looks between the men.

“How much?”

Santi rips a paper towel from the roll, “about thirty-five million.”

Frankie holds her as her knees start to give out but she’s still looking at Santi, she’s still looking for the joke he never made.

“Daylight's your call sign, you know,” he says cooly, “all the wives get one too, did he ever tell you?”

She shakes her head, looking at her husband now and thinking of all the times that very word fell from his lips.

“On our last real deployment,” Pope continues, “he was flying as the sun was setting and the sky was pure gold over the desert—“

Frankie’s eyes never leave hers, arms tight around her now.

“—he said it reminded him of the way the gold flakes in your eyes reflect the sunlight back at him, he called you Daylight until he got home and shed the callsigns altogether.”

“Frankie?”

He presses his lips into her forehead, his hand a heavy weight on her lower back that says, I’m right here.

“Your daughter has the same golden flakes in her eyes, like you, Daylight.”

Frankie runs his thumb along the swell of her cheek, "all I wanted to do last year was get home to you both, all I wanted was to make it right and see that reflection of light back at me through you both again.”

He leans down to softly press his lips to hers before nuzzling his nose into her hair, “our son has them too, the same gold in his eyes, it was the first thing I said to Ben when I walked out of the delivery room.”

"It was the first thing they said to me," Santiago says, "when they got off the plane."

“Like me?” Her voice is soft, the heaviness of sleep still clinging to her limbs.

“Mmhmm,” Frankie hums, “like Daylight.”

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onlyangelcas · 3 years

Text

boats and a blue-eyed birthday boy

read on ao3

The boat won’t start, because that’s just Dean’s luck. His son is inside, celebrating his 4th birthday, and his surprise gift is malfunctioning right before the big reveal.

Ever since Dean, Cas, and Jack moved out of the bunker and into their cottage-style lake house, Jack had been obsessed with the water. He was enthralled by the lake, spending hours on the dock watching the fish swim by or dipping his feet in on warm days. Cas fueled his interest by purchasing every book and guide about lake-dwelling creatures and plants.

Jack’s obsession was pushed even further when their elderly neighbor had offered to take him fishing on his boat. From that moment on, boats became all the rage in the Winchester home. Books about boats moved in next to the lake books on Jack’s bookshelf, his cowboy themed bed sheets were swapped for a set adorned with tiny sailboats. Dean and Cas had to practically restrain him from pestering their neighbor for a boat ride everyday.

That’s how Dean found himself purchasing a repaired boat from some guy in southwest Minnesota. He had made the drive to pick up the boat a few weeks ago, it was relatively affordable, not a luxury speedboat or ridiculous pontoon, but perfect for about 6 people to climb on board for a day of fishing or relaxing on the water. Dean had made a plan with El, their elderly neighbor, to keep the boat stored in his garage until Jack’s birthday. El was happy to help, even took apart the motor to make sure everything was working and got it in the water that morning to surprise Jack.

Now, Dean is huffing over the damn thing, trying to decipher why it won’t start. Everyone else, including El, the only person that could actually help him, is inside trying to keep Jack distracted while Dean preps the boat.

“Shit,” Dean curses, after another failed attempt at turning the engine over.

He slams his forehead into the steering wheel, frustrated tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Four was the worst year of Dean’s life, for obvious reasons, and he wanted to make sure that Jack’s fourth year was everything that his wasn’t. He knows it’s stupid, to get this worked up over a freaking boat, but this boat was so much more than that. It was a promise to Jack that he would always be there, he would always love him. So if he’s a little emotional over the possibility that this boat will ruin his son’s very important 4th birthday, who can blame him?

Dean turns his face toward the sky, the sun peaking through the tree branches to warm his skin. He thinks this is a moment he would pray, if he had anyone to pray to. Considering his two favorite angels are already inside the house, it seems kind of arbitrary. Instead he just looks at the sky, watches puffy white clouds drift by lazily, and wonders pointlessly about what he did to deserve this.

“Looks like you could use some help.” Says a gravelly voice Dean instantly recognizes as belonging to El.

He runs a hand across his face, quickly wiping away any evidence of tears. “You think you can get this thing going?”

“I should have told you earlier, you got to give it some gas as you turn the key.” El says simply, nudging Dean out of the way before pressing his foot to the accelerator and starting the boat.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Dean declares, slapping a hand to the other man’s back. “I thought the day was ruined.”

El laughs, adjusting his trucker cap and turning to face Dean with a serious look. “Boy, you think this boat not running would have ruined the day?”

Dean cocks his head to the side slightly, a mannerism he’s picked up from Cas after all these years. “Would have been a bummer if Jack’s surprise tanked.”

“You coulda given that kid an old thing with a couple of paddles and he woulda been ecstatic.” El smiles, clapping his shoulder affectionately. “All he really wants is something to share with you.”

In moments like these, El reminds him of Bobby so much that it almost knocks the wind out of him. There’s a lump in Dean’s throat, he quickly turns his head toward the ground and lets out a wet laugh.

“You and Cas,” El starts again. “And I guess Sam helped out, too. You guys raised that boy right, he doesn’t need things to be happy, he just needs people.”

Dean looks up, his glossy eyes meeting El’s, he gives him a soft smile. “Now, how’s about we go get that kid and show him his gift.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughs. “It’s showtime.”

El promises to keep watch of the boat while Dean jogs back up to the house. He pulls open the backdoor and immediately bumps into Kaia, who is looking at him guilty with her hands tight around Claire’s waist.

“Really? This is a birthday party for a 4 year old.” Dean attempts to scold, but there’s no real heat to it.

“Sorry!” Kaia yells as Claire says, “Who died and made you a patron saint?”

Dean laughs loudly at that, pressing a kiss to the side of Claire’s head as he passes. He makes his way into the kitchen, where Sam and Eileen are putting the finishing touches on Jack’s birthday cake.

Where’s Cas? He signs when Eileen catches his eye.

Living room. She signs back, giving him a warm smile.

He can hear Rowena’s laughter filling the room before he even steps over the threshold. She’s standing to the side of the living room, deep in conversation with Jody and Donna. Jack is on the floor with Alex, talking animatedly while he secures one of her braids with a bright pink hair tie. Jack’s wearing a red cowboy hat with a t-shirt that says ‘This is my 4th rodeo’, the shirt was Cas’ idea, along with the matching ‘Jack’s 4th Rodeo’ shirts that everyone in attendance is adorning.

Cas is perched on the sofa, watching Jack and Alex with a fond look in his eyes. Dean slides his hand across Cas’ shoulders and bends down to plant a sweet kiss against his lips. “It’s go time.”

Cas smiles excitedly as Dean sticks his hands under Jack’s armpits and pulls him to his feet. He reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a bandana that he begins to fasten over Jack’s eyes.

“Alright everyone, it’s time for Jack’s big surprise.” Dean says as he secures the bandana around Jack’s head. “Head out to the backyard so we can show our birthday boy his present.”

Everyone files out the backdoor and into the yard behind the house. Dean and Cas each take one of Jack’s hands in their own, leading him toward the dock.

“Okay buddy,” Cas says once the three of them reach the rocky shoreline, the rest of their family gathered behind them. “You ready?”

“Yes! I’m ready!” Jack nearly squeals.

Sam has his phone out, no doubt recording the moment so no one ever forgets it, as if they ever would.

“Everyone countdown with me,” Dean says, reaching for the bandana.

“Three… two… one!” The group counts off in unison as Dean releases the bandana in one swoop.

Jack stands there slack-jawed and in awe for a moment, clearly overwhelmed by the sight in front of him. “A boat?” He asks more than states.

“Yeah, baby, it’s for you.” Dean says, a little confused by the 4 year old’s reaction.

Jack turns to him and Cas, his hands still holding tightly onto theirs. “Our boat?”

“Yeah, Jack, your daddy picked it out for us.” Cas states, running a hand through Jack’s hair.

Jack releases both of their hands then, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck so aggressively that he tumbles from his crouched position onto his butt. “Thank you daddy!”

Dean buries his face into Jack’s neck, hiding his suddenly teary eyes, and says, “Happy birthday kiddo.”

Jack pulls away and places his small hands on the sides of Dean’s face before leaning in and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “I love you daddy.”

Dean huffs a wet laugh, looking over Jack’s shoulder to see his family watching with eyes as shiny as his own.

“I love you more, Jack.” He says, smacking an equally sloppy kiss to his forehead. “Now, how ‘bout we take it for a spin?”

“Papa too?” Jack asks, eyes lighting up.

Dean looks up at Cas, who has tears slipping unashamedly down his cheeks, and smiles. “Yeah, papa too.”

After they get Jack secured in his life vest, he takes his spot at the front of the boat, kneeling on the seat and leaning precariously over the edge to watch the boat carve through the water. Cas is seated next to him, one hand looped tightly in the back of his life vest, and Dean is at the wheel. The sun is setting over the horizon, reflecting off the lake and painting them in a picture-perfect orange glow.

Jack looks back at Dean, his blonde hair curling slightly from the spray of the boat, his gap-toothed smile is wide and unapologetic. Cas is looking at him, too, affection and love spilling over every feature, his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

“I hope I can be 4 forever!” Jack yells, letting out a wild laugh as Cas reaches over to tickle his neck.

Dean knows, somewhere in the back of this mind, that he should be worried that Jack is getting older. One day he’ll grow up, probably move away, and their house will no longer be littered with plastic sailboats and tiny socks discarded around every corner. At this moment, though, he can’t find it in himself to worry. Jack won’t be 4 forever, but he’s sitting in front of Dean with a smile like sunshine, toothy and perfect, laughing raucously, unashamed in his joy, and that will always be enough.

#happy birthday jack #he's 4!!!!!#nougatparty #userzaddy #seraphcastiel #dclcu #djdjdk yes i posted this already but i wanted to include the text in the post not just the link #spn #supernatural

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Flowers on the Grave - c. 10 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Everything finally comes to a head.

A/N: So...massive thanks for following this series all the way through to the end. Seriously, means so much to me cause I was so unsure of this when I started it.

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ I was on the verge of breaking down when you came around ✞

The phone rang, shrill in your ear, and you felt like a weight had settled on your chest as you waited for someone to answer.

Timothy was talking about the same three things that he had overwhelmed you with at the Wreck. Getting his pilot’s license, becoming a missionary, and his strength in the Lord. When he said it you could almost feel your father’s gaze burning into you, your own strength barely a register on the scale.

He had questioned you further the night before, after he had sent everyone home you had spent nearly the entire night sitting at the kitchen table with the two of them, demanding a repentance for your sins as you tried not to tell them everything that you had done to betray them. If they knew half of it...if only there were nunneries for Baptists. Your eyes had stayed on the clock, watching minutes turn to hours and knowing that JJ was waiting for you. That you wouldn’t make it.

Now you sat in the living room, watching those same minutes tick away, an escape plan the only thing on your mind as you listened to all the voices around you mingling. All you could imagine was yourself with JJ in Charleston and you desperately wanted to be there, wished you could transport yourself there.

You excused yourself from the couch beside Timothy, walking into the kitchen under the guise of needing something to drink. In actuality you just needed the moment to breathe. Everyone in the living room seemed fixated on the impending nuptials, regardless of the fact that Timothy had yet to propose to you. It didn’t seem to bother anyone, Timothy’s mom and your’s gushing about what sort of dress you would wear and your flowers. Every second spent with them felt like you were sinking further beneath the waves, unable to get your bearings, you imagined yourself drowning in all of this.

You glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching you before sneaking out the kitchen door, pulling it closed behind you so that it didn’t make any noise. The back patio had been cleaned off and all the kids were around the front of the house, playing between the church and the front porch.

“Ace,” the familiar voice came from your left and you almost burst into tears at the sight of JJ stepping onto the patio, careful to stay out of view of the window.

“JJ...I-”

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting you off. His eyes looked bloodshot, more so than when he smoked too much and you realized that he looked like he had been crying. “It’s okay...I know your family is inside and all, I just wanted to stop by to, uh, to see you...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“What, I don’t-”

“I understand, I swear. I knew that you might not come, that wasn’t like...I get it.” He insisted.

“No, JJ...” you shook your head. Careful not to draw attention to yourself as you slipped passed the window to meet him at the edge of the patio, you placed your hands on either side of his face, heartbreaking at the way he turned his eyes away, “my parents found your vape pen in the house. I...my dad like freaked out on me, I’ve never seen him like that. I couldn’t come to see you, I wanted to, so badly...I still want to.” You swore. “I love you.”

The words processed a little slowly, giving you the opportunity to watch JJ’s face as realisation sunk in. You hadn’t left him waiting at the Phantom because you were choosing what your family wanted, you hadn’t been able to get there. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I swear. I told you I was coming and I was. I just-”

“Hey, it’s alright, I get it.” He promised. He knew how dependent on your family you felt. How dependent they made you feel.

“Is it too late?” You asked, looking back to the screen door as if someone would walk through. The bruise on your arm was still there, stinging under the sleeve of your dress but somehow it didn’t feel as harsh as before, as much like a shackle as it had last night, “is it too late to leave?”

JJ looked surprised, “you still want to?”

“Yes. But we have to go now.” You knew there was no way you could go back inside that house.

The renewed sense of optimism that gripped JJ was not without understanding that your window oy opportunity was limited. Leave now and you still had the chance to make it to Charleston before dark, wait and there was a chance someone would step outside and see you.

“Okay.”

Your absence was becoming increasingly noticeable until finally your mother stood up, promising that she would be back in just a moment, she needed to find you first. “She has a tendency to wander off, probably playing with the children.” She explained as she walked into the kitchen, positive that she had just heard the screen door creak shut.

Stepping out onto the porch, she looked quickly around the yard, a survey of the area within the trees, looking for you by the clothesline or the church or the old swings that had been set up nearly five children ago. You weren’t there though, the yard was empty. She pushed the door open again, walking back into the kitchen and catching sight of the refrigerator. A note, scrawled on the grocery pad that was kept by the door, had been tacked to the front of the fridge along with a delicate gold cross hanging from a chain.

Mom + Dad,

Sorry, I told dad I wouldn’t marry Timmy and I meant it. Call you when I can.

Ace

Your mother screamed so loud it was a wonder that you didn’t hear it, running through the trees with JJ, your hand in his. Once the woods parted to make way for the closest drive-way you saw JJ’s dirt bike. There were plenty of times that you had almost taken him up on the offer of riding on the back of the bike with him but you always backed out at the last second, far too terrified of falling off or getting hurt. Today you hardly thought twice of it, climbing on the rungs and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You leaned forward, kissing JJ’s cheek before he kicked up the stand and took off, “I love you.”

“Love you.” JJ replied quickly before taking off, grinning at the feeling of your grip on his shoulders tightening.

The middle of the afternoon was far different from midnight and Heyward’s was open, Pope and Kiara coming out when they heard the sound of the dirt bike, as if they’d been waiting. The moment you each dismounted Kiara was pulling you into a hug, swearing that she ‘knew it’, knew you weren’t standing him up. She passed you over to Pope, who hugged you and whispered in your ear that he was glad you came, knowing without having to tell you that you understood just how much this relationship meant to JJ.

“Come on,” JJ grabbed your hand, pulling you away from them. “We gotta go.”

“You can take ten seconds to give me a hug JJ,” Kiara said, already pulling him into a hug.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, hugging her back and lifting her a little off the ground before letting her go, “we need to leave, I love you guys, I’ll see ya soon.”

“See ya man,” Pope hugged him, “call us.”

JJ was guiding you away from them again, over to where he had docked the Phantom. He had taken your duffel bag the day before and it was still sitting there under the bench along with his backpack. The last time you had been on a boat with JJ had been out on the Pogue, in the Marsh. This was a lot different, the outlet to the ocean just beyond your vision but getting closer as JJ steered the Phantom. Kiara and Pope shouted their goodbyes from the jetty and you waved, suddenly feeling like that weight that settled on your chest was gone.

“Are you freaking out?” JJ asked, catching your attention.

You got up from the bench, careful as you walked over to him. “No but I'm sure my mom is.” You replied, laughing a little when JJ wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you in front of him, putting you between him and the wheel. You turned your head, tilting back to kiss him.

A police car rushed past Kiara and Pope as they stood outside of Heyward’s, heading in the direction of the church and your house. When Shoupe pulled in, the yard was quiet. Your siblings and their families were all inside, your oldest sister trying to do damage control with Timothy’s family while your mom and dad stood outside, your mom clutching the letter and the necklace.

The cross was something that your mom had given you on your thirteenth birthday, a symbol of your devotion and love for the Lord, now it was tucked in her hand as she tried not to absolutely fall apart. Timothy’s mother was simply upset that you had seemingly skipped out on her son but your mom was dealing with the reality that you were gone and she had no idea where you would even go.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Shoupe asked, skeptical as he took down your information. You were 18, according to your parents, 18-year-olds didn’t need permission to leave home without telling anyone. So far, he was unconvinced of a crime.

“Hardly an hour ago.” Your mom replied, thrusting the note into his hand, “she left this...I know that boy she was sneaking around with put her up to it.”

“Do you know this boy’s name?” he asked, looking over the vague note you had left.

“JJ Maybank.” Your father said.

Shoupe frowned, if there was any name that immediately sparked his interest it was JJ’s. It didn’t matter whether JJ was guilty of something or not, nine times out of ten Shoupe was positive that any misconduct on the island could be traced back to JJ and his friends. “Look, usually in cases like this I would tell you that, your kid is 18, if you haven’t heard from her in 24 hours then I’ll file a missing persons. But I know that Maybank kid...I’ll talk to his friends, see if anyone knows anything. You hear from your daughter, you let me know.”

“Thank you, deputy.” Your father said, his arms around your mom as she continued to cry. You were gone and he wasn’t sure if he was angrier that you had walked out on your family’s expectations of you or that you were embarrassing them in front of a potential future husband. Either way, the thought that something they did contributed to your disappearance never occured to them.

Charleston wasn’t half-way between North Carolina and Florida. There wasn’t anything special about the place and even Pope had asked why JJ didn’t just take the Phantom down to Georgia for a stopover. JJ’s only explanation was that he knew a guy in Charleston and, technically, he did. When Luke had served an 18-month sentence for a petty misdemeanor his cellmate had been an in-the-process-of-reforming drug addict who took himself down to South Carolina to work in a program for recovering addicts. He kept in touch with JJ, making sure that Luke was treating the boy right and JJ always lied through his teeth that everything was great.

“Nothing to worry about.”

But he’d called a few weeks before with an odd favor. One that Luke’s cellmate readily agreed to, no questions asked, but a strange request all the same. “Meet me at the courthouse in Charleston.”

Now you stood outside, scuffing the toe of your converse against the pavement, JJ’s cellphone held in a vice grip against your ear. Independence didn’t exist in your family, at least not for you. You belonged to your father until you belonged to a husband and there was no other way around it. JJ was sitting on the hood of his friend’s car, talking about heading down to Flordia, watching you as you stood a few feet away, fiddling with the strings that tied the dress he’d bought you in Chapel Hill. You’d dug it out of a drawer in your mom’s room and wore it now, a small symbol of freedom.

“Hello?” Your mother’s voice came through the phone, a little grainy.

“Mom?”

Suddenly she was shouting for your father and you could practically hear her switching the phone over to speaker so he could hear you too. His footsteps were heavy in the background and when you were sure he was in earshot you spoke again, not ready to hear whatever bible verse he had earmarked for this very specific occasion.

“I just wanted you to know I’m okay, JJ and I are heading down south. We’ll be staying with a cousin of his until we can get our own place.” You told them, “but we’re safe. Kiara told me you called the police; you can tell them you made a mistake...I left on my own.”

JJ stood up, walking over to where you stood, nodding to you as if silently asking you to put the phone on speaker. You held it away from your ear and tapped the button on the screen, your father’s reprimanding voice pouring through the phone.

“Stop, stop,” your mother insisted, cutting into the conversation with the only thing you knew she cared about. “What am I supposed to tell Timothy’s parents?”

“Tell ‘em she’s already married.” JJ answered for you, winking at you when you smiled. Charleston wasn’t anything special, expect they let you get married the same day you applied for a license and you knew it was the only thing your parents would listen to. When you had told JJ he’d been more than onboard with the idea. Surprisingly okay, eager even.

“What?” Your father practically shouted through the phone. He had sat up the night, waiting for the call you promised them only for it to come through early in the afternoon the next day with this, news that you had married this kid.

“Ace-” your mom seemed like there was something more she wanted to say, something that she couldn’t say with your father hovering beside her.

“I’ll be in touch, love you.” You said, ending the call and realizing, as JJ pulled you into a hug, that you were crying. “I really hate them sometimes but I don’t...want them to hate me.”

“Trust me,” JJ reassured, “I know all about it.”

Your shoes sat abandoned on the small front lawn, socks stuffed inside as you stood a few feet away, ankles deep in a plastic kiddie pool that was slowly filling with hose water. You still had your uniform on, a short sleeved, short-hemmed, yellow waitress dress that buttoned up the front. Balanced on your hip, your arms around her, was JJ’s cousin’s daughter, his niece for the sake of simplifying things. She wore a white bathing suit with rainbow flowers all over it, a frilly skirt around the waist. Her Elmo submarine bobbed in the water as it got higher.

“Look, Daisy,” you cooed, drawing her attention to you and then pointing to the object of your interest. An older model Ford truck pulled into the driveway, JJ behind the wheel. “Whose that?”

“JJ!” Daisy clapped her hands with each syllable, thrilled at the sight of him.

The car door slammed behind him, standing there with his coverall’s tied at his waist, white wife-beater dirty from work. His cousin had gotten him the job at the autobody shop that he’d been promised and JJ was enjoying it more than he thought he would. The smile on his face when he saw you was infectious.

“Where’s Brett?” He asked, looking around the small yard of the trailer. It was nothing terribly special, a double-wide trailer that JJ’s cousin Brett had bought after his girlfriend got pregnant. Now he lent out the room that Daisy had been sleeping in to you and JJ, asking only that you pay for groceries every other week and babysit whenever need be.

“Went to meet April for lunch.” You replied, “you’re early.”

“Don’t act so excited.” He teased, getting close enough that you could kiss him, Daisy reaching out for him and calling his name again. “As soon as I change Dais,” he promised, kissing the baby’s head.

“Kiara called, asked if we’ll be up for Pope’s birthday?” You mentioned, setting Daisy down in the kiddie pool and getting out to shut off the hose. “I said yes.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He nodded, pausing at the steps as if he wasn’t quite sure what he had intended to do next, finally turning to look back at you as you kneeled down on the outside of the pool in hopes of keeping your uniform clean. “You okay with going back for a weekend?”

“Now that I’ve fallen into like, total debauchery, definitely.” You joked, “my parents probably won’t even recognize me if I don’t, you know, get stuck down by lightening just walking onto the property.”

JJ snorted, “slow your roll there Cheech, you still can’t smoke and you definitely can’t handle your liquor.”

“Go get changed so I can...Brett basically handed me Daisy, threw a shirt on and left. I didn’t even get to change.” You mentioned, pointing to the dress, “I know it’s some weird turn-on for you but I’d like to put a bathing suit on.”

“Hey, I’m happy to oblige,” he called, the screen door clambering behind him as he disappeared into the trailer.

You had tried to imagine a few times, what you would’ve been doing right now if you had stayed in the Outer Banks, if JJ had never asked you out to begin with. Probably packing for Tennessee, signing off on a life-sentence with someone who thought your greatest contribution to his life would be in how many children you could give him and how well you kept his house. Certainly not living in a trailer in a small town, saving dollars in a jar, with a future ahead of you that was as much yours to decide as JJ’s.

“Alright, get your ass in there and change.” JJ said, coming out of the trailer. He’d left the white tank on but changed into an old pair of swim shorts, climbing into the kiddie pool as if it was intended solely for him.

You stood up, brushing grass off your knees and leaning over to kiss JJ one more time, “be right back. Don’t have fun without me.”

“Oh we’re gonna have all the fun!” He called as the door shut behind you.

As you passed the mirror on the door you stopped to look at your reflection. You looked the same as you had when you left for Florida four months ago but there was something there, something so different that you couldn’t recognize yourself sometimes. A good different though, the kind that settled over you like a warm sun in the summer, the kind that blossomed up in your chest and let you know that all these decisions that led to right now had been the right ones.

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

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Hey! Could you do these headcanons [💖,💐] for Jaime, or Tyrion? I've been in the GoT fandom “recently” (like a month or two ago?), and I don't see much of them; especially Tyrion (I don't know book-Tyrion yet 👀). I've been reading your blog for a while, and I really like your writings; I'm taking my time to read them again jsjsj. I understand if you don't want to, or doesn't catch your eye; I hope I'm not being rude or anything, but I wanted to try my luck. Please take care and be safe! <3

welcome to our cluuuub! welcome to our cluuuuuub!

im glad youre enjoying GoT so much, and my blog! You should def give the books a try if you ever have a chance! Book Tyrion is rlly diff in many cool ways, same with Jaime.

also i uh ... did the thing where i confused the emojis again, so I did “date” for both of them as well LOL oops

💘 Tyrion Date HC

Once Tyrion really starts liking you, he takes you to the loveliest places. We’re talking walks through gardens with little ponds and animals, a covered boat ride on a river, or walking through an exciting market full of Essosi traders. The thing is, he’d never call this “courting”. That makes it too official, too serious. He plays it off as simple visits two friends would make.

He’s excellent at finding out the things you’re interested in. You aren’t aware of it, but Tyrion really pays attention to what you respond to and what you like the most. I mean, he’s already watching you because he loves you, but if you aren’t vibing with an activity and location he’ll take that into consideration for next time.

He has lots of fun experiencing new things with you, period - after you’re together, after you’re married. If he finds out about something new, he’ll tell you so you both can do it together.

Tyrion prefers more private locations, since the court is exhausting and nearly all people he meets don’t like him anyway... but there’s something exciting about having such a pretty girl on his arm, someone who clearly adores him and wants to spend time with him.

Gifts! You tell him he doesn’t have to, but he likes presenting you with little things at the beginning or end of a date. First it’s practical things, so he can brush it off as “You seemed like you could use that”, before it’s just outright pretty jewels and dresses and he has no excuse. At that point it’s because he clearly loves you.

When it’s your name day, he has such a great evening planned out. If you’re married, make that a weekend or a week to travel and enjoy a little mini-vacation. Tyrion is excellent at planning an event in secret, so you have no idea what he has in store until the morning of your birthday.

In a modern AU, he’s not too different - he wants to explore new places and new things. He’d probably live in a city and would always find the strangest hole in the wall places to eat and shop at. If you like books, or records, or clothes, he’s gonna find something really out of the way and specific.

💖Tyrion Pregnancy HC

From the time you announced your pregnancy to the entire 9 months, it was like the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever had. There are SO many thoughts going through his head. Some of them are:

One, he’s delighted you want to have a family with him. Yes, you two are married, but it’s not out of duty to the Lannisters. It’s the ultimate proof you love him, he decides - because there’s a real chance your child could turn out like him, and you don’t care. And he knows you’ll love the child if that happens. He just knows you’ll be a wonderful mother. Second, you clearly express your joy to his family and the courtiers. You’re proud and you don’t care who knows. Third, he thinks about how horrid his own upbringing was, and he’s absolutely 100% determined to be an excellent father. Fourth ...

You get the point. He’s so torn between worry - what if the child is born with a problem, what if you die in childbed, what if he turns out to be a terrible father - and absolute, unbelievable devotion. You thought he was protective and doting before? Nothing is too good for you. You have to tell Tyrion to dial it back a bit, you don’t need new clothes every month and ten sets of silken bedsheets and all this jewelry....

He’s a bundle of nerves the closer the due date is. You two might actually get into spats because you’re exhausted and achey, and he’s just a mess. Jaime actually has to knock sense into him and get him to calm down.

But once your child is born... it all washes away, like a wave carrying him. He’s so happy. He can’t even function. He wants the hold the child all the time, he wants to see them, talk to them - and he asks so many questions to you and the maester. When will the child talk? When will they walk? Can they understand him? Do they know he’s their father? And so on.

Also, his protectiveness would go through the roof. He would never forbid you from going anywhere or doing anything, but.. he would be obviously nervous if you mentioned you were going travelling or something.

And it goes without saying he’s keeping extra tabs on Cersei, certain courtiers, maybe his own father. He doesn’t trust any of them for anything.

Bronn will probably get assigned to bodyguard duty for you. He’s clearly not pleased, and you just sigh and dismiss him for the day so you don’t have to listen to his smart mouth.

He likes to feel your stomach, especially when the babe kicks! It relieves his worries that the child might be born “wrong” somehow. The fact they’re kicking, wiggling and moving, seemingly in response to him, makes him feel much better.

💐 Tyrion Family & Kids HC

He’s an excellent father, even though he has his moments of emotional hang-ups. He wants to ensure his child is educated, empathetic and uses their damn head. While he’d be doting and affection, he wouldn’t be a total pushover and can reasonably discipline them. Tyrion is great at talking to children respectfully and treating them like people.

On that note, he has no patience for someone like Cersei or his father trying to butt in on his parenting. He’ll stand up to them and firmly insist he can raise his child on his own, thank you. He won’t take any “advice” or threats from them.

He’d be quite good at figuring out what his children are talented in, and encouraging them. He’s seen what it’s like when a child is forced into a single box and hinge all their worth on that (Jaime) and when they’re looked over and ignored (him and Cersei).

Yes, he basically decides to do the opposite of whatever his father did.

There would be times when he’d want to educate his children himself, but only on certain subjects - reading and writing, for example. He trusts the maester just fine, he just wants to have that bonding opportunity with them.

(He’s so proud of all of them no matter what though 😭)

If you’d be up for it, Tyrion would like several children. He’s not 100% on how many, since he’s never really given himself a chance to hope and daydream for a family. He knows he needs a son for the Lannister line to continue, but he’d never force you to continue risking your health for that. Ultimately, however many you want, that’s what he’ll be happy with. If it’s all girls, he’ll love them the same.

💘 Jaime Date HC

It’s actually amusing how bad he is at taking you somewhere interesting. It ends up being an accident - you run into him in a beautiful garden or some obscure part of the Red Keep, and he offers to show you something interesting he found. From there, you two get lost and take a while to find your way back.

... Or you take him somewhere you thought was interesting, and he goes along with it. When you point out that Jaime is pretty bad at this “courting” business, he just scoffs and says that’s definitely not what he’s doing. He’s just visiting with ... a friend ... .... just a friend. Yup.

Another aspect is the fact he’s a Whitecloak, and he might be having to avoid Cersei. That kind of makes things dicey.

However, when he returns from the Dreadfort and that absolute hell of a journey, he’s doesn’t care so much who sees you two. He wants to get away from the Red Keep, even if that’s his duty, so he starts wandering out with you. When Jaime is patrolling on his own and sees a place of interest, he makes a mental note to bring it up to you later. And when he does, and you offer to go with him ... Well, he won’t complain.

Since you two have been so many places, he starts to associate them with you. When he’ll pass by it on his own, he thinks about something you laughed at, or something you told him there. If you ever touched his hand or his face while you two visited a garden, he will remember that touch every single time he passes by.

After you’ve known each other for a while, and he’s feeling sentimental, he’ll ask, “Do you remember those docks a mile away from the Red Keep? There was a man pushing a cart that had these colorful glasses and wares. You were wearing a blue dress, and when you dirtied it, I carried you around down the street?”

You have no idea where he’s talking about, but that’s the sort of road his memory lane is.

In the modern AU, he’s still pretty terrible at dates. He’s more of the type who wants to wander around with you and just pop into a place that seems interesting - and then he’ll associate you with it. Anytime he sees that cafe chain again, even in a different city, he remembers the hot cocoa you ordered and the little marshmallow mustache you gave yourself.

And honestly, he prefers to stay home with you, cuddling and watching something. He can be as bad as a needy cat when he wants cuddles and attention; you aren’t escaping anytime soon.

💖Jaime Pregnancy HC

Oh no.

Back when Jaime was a boy and lectured endlessly on the duties of a Lannister heir, he didn’t truly understand what that meant. Especially after Cersei coerced him into taking the white cloak, he figured he’d never have children of his own.

... Well. Then there was three. but they never felt like his, which was Cersei’s intention. It was so strange, even if they looked like him, he couldn’t connect Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen to himself.

Also, look who his father is. That’s a lot to unpack.

It’s not until he’s completely left Cersei and lost his sword hand that he starts thinking and seeing things differently. It feels different when you play with the children, when you look longingly at mothers, when he’s intimate with you and you let him finish inside. He starts thinking what it’s like, and that’s scary, considering it never crossed his mind before.

And then he thinks about how his mother died, and what it did to his father. He never openly discusses it with you, but he has nightmares about it. Jaime doesn’t sleep well for a lot of your pregnancy, especially toward the last few months. He does a little better with each child. To distract himself, he takes care of you.

He likes the idea of having two children, a boy and girl, or two boys, but he’s fine with one or more than two. Anything more than four would probably overwhelm him.

Gods save the person who threatens you, even if it’s his sister. His protective instincts go into overdrive, to the point where someone being disrespectful to you on the street will make him want to fight.

💐 Jaime Family & Kids HC

When you tell him, honestly... his first thought is what an awful parent he’d be. He had one example for what a father is like, and he was hardly an influential part in the lives of the three children he sired. You’d have to reassure Jaime and give him confidence, because he has none where this is concerned. He’s positive he’ll screw it up somehow, he’ll be too distant, or too cruel. How do you even hold a baby? What do you say to little ones? He’s going to take care of you, there’s no question of that, but his nervousness is palpable.

Still, he has such a cute smile when he holds his child - what he considers his first real one - and he right away sees you in them. Their nose, and smile, and eyes. It’s amazing, he decides.

Jaime is a terribly indulgent father. He tries to scold where he can, but more often than not he’s amused by his kid being mischievous. When they pull pranks on guests or get into fights with other kids, he’ll let them off easy if he felt like it was justified. If you’re the more disciplinary parent, the kids totally learn to go to Jaime when they want something.

He’s not overly physically affectionate, but he often ruffles their hair (even if they’re a girl with hair you just braided), gives them rides on his shoulders and lets them sit on his lap and fall asleep. He also has a habit of patting their cheeks or shoulders when he’s pleased.

Jaime didn’t think he’d be excited to teach swordplay and horseback, but he’s so happy when one of his kiddos is interested in both or either. Even if they’re a girl, he can’t help but teach her everything he knows. It also makes him feel better that he has something to teach and pass on even if he lost his sword hand.

Also ... he’s a terrifying papa lion. Do not ever even slightly threaten his children or wife in front of him. His temper and pride will flare and he’ll start a fight right there.

Related to that, he can fight off Cersei’s cruelty and coldness to you and your children together because he knows how to deal with her. If Tywin disapproved of you in some way, or was trying to take control of how the children were reared, Jaime would genuinely struggle to stand up to him. He doesn’t want his kids to go through the childhood he had, but it’s difficult for him. He won’t go into full “fuck this” mode unless the children are seriously threatened.

#libra headcanons #jaime lannister x reader #tyrion lannister x reader #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #i swear ive dorked up that date and pregnancy emoji like three times

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Audio

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Charlie’s 6✩ Inspiration: Midsummer’s Gilt [仲夏鎏金] Date Translation (END 4: Listen)

“Why do you have your eyes closed again? Sleepy? Go ahead and take a nap then. Remember to dream of me.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Charlie’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *6✩ Inspirations have 6 Endings!! *Charlie’s tag will be #For Night, For Paradox

✥ Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

What should I do? How should we spend the rest of the time?

⊹ Ask him if there's anything he wants to do ⊹

Thinking about it now, I still feel like it'll be better if I let Charlie decide what he wants to do instead of following my plan.

MC: Hey, let me ask you something. Do you have anywhere you want to go? Or… anything you want to do?

Charlie: Oh? You're prepared to fulfil a wish of mine for me?

MC: I guess so? I mean, heaven is big, earth is big, and the birthday star’s is the biggest.

MC: Oh. Anything but marriage!!

Charlie: You’re setting restrictions on my only birthday wish in a year? How cruel of you.

MC: Not like I can help it. Who told you to be the most vicious queen of all time, hm?

Charlie helplessly shakes his head, lowering his eyes in thought before looking back up at me.

Charlie: What I want to do today is very simple.

MC: ...Which is?

I don’t know if I was just imagining it, but I suddenly felt like I just saw a sliver of mischief flash across his eyes.

Charlie: Come with me.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I followed him back to the farmhouse and out into the yard. Charlie immediately settled himself on the deck chair.

I watched him suspiciously, not understanding him at all.

Charlie: Come here. Let’s lie down together for a while.

MC: This is the one thing you want to do the most today…?

Charlie: That's right.

Charlie: I’ve been dragged and pushed around for the entire day. I just want to have a good moment’s rest with my fiancée.

The deck chair wasn’t exactly small, but it’d be a slight squeeze to fit two people on it.

I was dubious about it for a while.

Charlie: Hmm, looks like being the birthday boy doesn’t help at all, huh.

He sighed, watching me. I stood rooted to my spot. It was rare enough that I got to look down at him, but the look he was giving me was a little like a kicked puppy...

Never mind. Heaven is big, earth is big, and the birthday star’s is the biggest.

Mentally reciting the phrase again, I closed my eyes and laid down next to him.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie: And here I thought that you wouldn't agree to it.

Charlie: Why are you closing your eyes for? Am I that ugly?

Charlie: A handsome face is right beside you, and you're not even going to admire it?

Charlie: Are you really not going to look at me?

Charlie: Not bad. You "woke" in a timely manner. If you hadn't done so, then I'd have…

Charlie: What CAN I do? Have you never heard of the fairytale called "Sleeping Beauty"?

Charlie: You moved over to give me more space? How rare of you to be so considerate towards me.

Charlie: What? You get mad when I speak and feel uncomfy when I don't.

Charlie: *Sighs*...Never mind, my dear fiancée can only be coddled by me after all.

Charlie: What do you want me to talk about? My mood?

Charlie: Much better than I thought it'd be.

Charlie: Are you uncomfortable?

Charlie: Then come over here a little more…

Charlie: I know I said "a little", but you've only moved just a mere millimetre, haven't you?

Charlie: Any further and you'll-

Charlie: Alright, stop moving.

Charlie: Move any more and I'll just have to fall off with you in tow.

Charlie: I won't move, but you can't go making me loosen my grip on you either.

Charlie: Why do you have your eyes closed again? Sleepy?

Charlie: Go ahead and take a nap then. Remember to dream of me.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

After dinner, the night gradually grew darker.

Having changed into my pyjamas, I was just about to close the windows when I suddenly heard a commotion coming from outside.

It sounded like a lot of people were gathered in one place, chattering along with the joyful cries of children.

MC: What’s going on!?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Curious, I crossed the yard and walked out of the back door. I was immediately dumbfounded the instant I opened the door.

The originally empty plain had somehow accommodated a helicopter from somewhere. Charlie was standing by the helicopter’s door with his head bowed as he adjusted his shirt collar.

There were many villagers from around the area beside him. The old, the young, the boys, the girls; some of them taking photos, some of them discussing within their midst.

Little Boy: Big bro, do you really mean what you said earlier?

Charlie: But of course; I never lie.

Little Girl: Wow! I’m gonna get dad to bring me to a good spot right now!

Little Boy: Wait a minute, me too!

A couple of kids fussed about wanting to get to higher ground, to which Charlie only smiled at. The sides of his mouth curled upwards as he let out a soft snort, an inconcealable look of pride on his face.

Suddenly, I can’t help but have a very bad feeling about this new turn of events. I subconsciously turned to flee.

Charlie: I haven’t even gone looking for you yet, and here you are.

Charlie: Looks like we truly have an affinity with each other.

A big hand lands on my shoulder, making me unwittingly turn around only to face his triumphant expression.

MC: And what are you trying to pull again? What’s with this helicopter here?

Charlie: I’m going to take you for a spin.

MC: ……

MC: I’m going to bed. Good night.

I turned to leave again, but the same hand landed on my shoulder once more, this time backed with an irrefutable strength as he dragged me up into the helicopter.

Ten minutes later.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Chuf, chuf, chuf.

The sound of the helicopter’s propeller reverberated in my ears. I’d eventually given up struggling against him; and now, I sat next to him blankly, decked in pyjamas and slippers.

Charlie: Why so quiet? Are you scared of heights?

MC: Har, har, very funny. Just think of it as me being sleepy.

Charlie: Then, you’d do well to wake up; because what’s coming up next is something worth remembering for a lifetime.

MC: …What?

Charlie: I did give my birthday some serious thought.

Charlie: While it’s true that I don’t like attending birthday banquets, it is not in line with my personality to spend my birthday in such a low-key, simplistic, manner.

MC: ……

Charlie: Plus, my fiancée worked so hard to prepare so many surprises for me. So, I have to give her a gift in return, won’t you say?

He’d only just said that when a loud bang sounded from outside the window.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I saw fireworks blooming behind him, suddenly lighting up the night sky, as well as the hand that Charlie had started to reach out towards me.

My eyes widened in surprise. I’d totally forgotten that reactions were a thing. And that was how Charlie had pulled me over to admire the scenery outside the window together.

And that was how the gorgeous fireworks bloomed seemingly near, yet far. It was almost as if one could simply reach out and touch them.

The boundless night sky was skin to a long and endless river, while the fireworks resembled the starry sky, reflected on the surface of the river. We were seated atop a small boat, free to move and traverse this galaxy as we so wished.

I couldn’t help but raise my hand, pressing it against the glass window and fixing my eyes firmly to the fireworks blooming outside.

Charlie: What? So moved that you could cry?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. I glanced at the handkerchief that held out before me and turned away with a huff.

MC: Thanks, but I’m not that easily moved.

MC: And these fireworks… It’s really beautiful, but please don’t do such overly exaggerated things in the future.

Charlie: So you’re already contemplating how to celebrate my future birthdays?

MC: I’m not…

My eyes dilated in rage, yet the flicker of flames died out the moment I raised my head.

Reflected within those twin violet orbs of his were the flashing lights of the fireworks… and two little reflections of me.

MC: Let’s leave the stuff next year… to next year.

Charlie: Don’t worry, you can have it every year.

The fireworks outside the window continued. Looking at the magnificent splendour outside, I suddenly remembered that I didn’t exactly wish him a “happy birthday” yet.

MC: Charlie.

Charlie: Hm?

MC: Happy birthday.

Charlie: Thank you.

This might actually be the first time that he has ever seriously thanked me for anything before.

My heart squeezed, immediately starting to race soon after. There was no longer any way to hide it.

MC: And there’s something else I want to tell you…

MC: Actually, I wouldn’t have known that it was your birthday today if you didn’t mistakenly think that I was making “longevity noodles”.

MC: I only agreed to go on a trip with you because I didn’t want to owe you any favours.

MC: And… I only decided to come here to this rural countryside to spite you because I knew that you’d be uncomfortable with it.

MC: And I didn’t prepare anything in advance as your birthday gift either…

I paused, not knowing how to continue. However, it was Charlie who carried on with the conversation, much to my surprise.

Charlie: So?

MC: So… Aren’t you angry?

MC: I clearly lied to you, in a way.

Charlie: My fiancée has been pondering hard and busying about like a busy bee today to celebrate my birthday.

Charlie: I don’t think there’s anything to be mad about.

I was stunned. For a moment, I didn’t quite know how to reply to him. All I registered was the soft thud of my heart as it skipped a beat.

MC: …I really don’t understand you sometimes.

Charlie: Then, I suppose you’ll have to put in more effort to understand me. After all, I can already understand you like the back of my hand.

Charlie: You can just tell me if you need help. I’ll get someone to collate my information and send it to you in a file.

MC: No need!

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I softly snorted, turning around to continue admiring the fireworks outside the window.

Even though I knew clearer than anyone else, deep down in my heart, that fireworks were nought but merely a fleeting moment of brilliance…

I still can’t help but hope…

To hope that everything would be etched into stone, preserved forever and evermore.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose another Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 5 + 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ✩Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Paradox⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: Prologue

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #查理苏 #Charlie #For Night For Paradox #仲夏鎏金 #Midsummers Gilt

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randombtsprincessa · 3 years

Text

Buoyed Up

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Words: 4.8k

Genre: Fluffy Smut

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Summary: You take your boyfriend to soak up the sun on his birthday.

Playlist: Robokid - Ur Touch | Figgy - Do It Like Us | Tinashe - Days In The West (Drake Cover) (Ekali Remix)

Warnings: Yatching trip, Hoseok gets wet and shirtless, ogling, explicit smut, nipple/breast play, nipple biting, face sitting, unprotected sex (be safe folksies), hickies, profanity, dirty talk and dirty thoughts.

A/N: Happy birthday to my beautiful Sunboy! I would also like to thank @yeoldontknow for the nipple play inspiration and a special someone who shall not be named for the face sitting scene. I know you’re going to read this, don’t play.

You had never been this thankful for a correct weather forecast before.

The sky and sea stretched out seamlessly in front of you in a brilliant canvas of blue. The wind was crisp and fresh. The wooden slats of the dock platform squeaked in your ears and right in your line of sight was the magnificence you had booked for one of the most important events of the year.

The star of said event was behind you, clutching your hand stretched out between you, fingers entwined. The squeezes he trapped your hands in could be seen as a form of expressing his affection…or simply conveying how nervous he was right now.

Your eyes, protected by the darkened haze of the sunglass could spy the captain and owner of the Yacht boat, wrapping and tying cords at the entrance, feet following the direction when one final, tighter squeeze made you pause, turning to look askance at the man behind you.

Hoseok, the birthday boy, wore a silky white shirt, so long and baggy it almost completely hid his lithe frame, nearly kissing his knees. Beneath them, you could just spy his denim shorts, and beneath them…well, his knees shook a little and toes squiggled in his sandals.

“What?” You asked.

“I just…um, are you sure, it’s alright for us to…take a boat?” He queried.

You paused. “What?” You tried again.

“I mean, things could go wrong if we’re alone. Storms, leaks, shark attacks, whale attacks,” He listed and for a split second, you allowed amusement to color your tone.

“Whales, baby?” You teased and he grumbled.

You had to sigh. You knew your boyfriend was a bit…easily rattled. So when you’d announced your plans for his birthday and he’d whooped enthusiastically, you’d taken a minute to talk him through it. It was a yacht, a decently large and comfortable engine based boat which would take you across to a private section of the shallows where you would spend the day. You would drive, there would be food and drinks and a luxurious day of sunning.

He had been thoroughly stress relieved, with fried chicken and soda before agreeing to your plans.

Of course, you should’ve known that coming out here and seeing things for himself would bring his earlier fears back to the surface.

You tugged him closer to your body. “If you’re really worried, then we can go back. I’m sure I can get a bit of a refund if we ask nicely.”

Hoseok didn’t meet your eyes, looking over your head at the captain who had spotted you by now, getting to his feet expectantly. “Did you pay a lot?”

“Just the standard fee; but your comfort is more important.” You promised, soothing a hand across his bicep.

“I’m…I’m fine, I just…”

“I’ll be steering, we will only go to the shallows and come straight back tomorrow.” You reassured again.

His big brown eyes met yours now, triangle lips pouting in thought before he uttered one word. “Fine,”

The captain, a hand carding through his crew cut, grinned at you when you finally towed Hoseok over to him and his boat. “Good morning, ma’am, didn’t I tell you there’ll be good sun and wind the day you want her?”

You laughed. “Yes, captain, you sure did. This is the birthday boy, by the way; Hoseok, my boyfriend.”

“Pleasure,” He stretched out a hand to shake Hoseok’s, toothily beaming. “You got a fine vibe around you, sir.”

Hobi hesitated before managing a smile. “So, who’s the ‘her’ you were talking about?” he asked.

The Cap turned, placing a gentle hand along the gleaming body of the yacht. “The most precious thing I own, meet Ferret. Come on in”

You couldn’t help but giggle at Hoseok’s stunned expression as he moved in. “He calls it Ferret?” He muttered.

“It’s cute,” You returned, turning your attention to the man in question as he gave you a basic run down of the boat again. You’d already gotten the tutorial and studied the manuals thoroughly over the last month.

You moved over the large reception and living space, glancing through the stocked little kitchenette in the back. The bedroom and bathroom were below deck, and the sun bed and fore deck sparkled from the cleaning it had undergone.

“What do you think?” You asked.

Hoseok sat on the padded sofa in the living, looking around and considering. “It’s good, I like it.”

“That’s what I like to hear. So, if that’ll be all, ma’am; I’ll hop off board.” He walked off, untying the rope that held the Ferret to its spot. “You’ll be back by noon tomorrow, eh?”

“Absolutely,” You shook his hand again, watching him cast a look over the vessel once more.

When he walked off, disappearing around the corner of the wooden walkway, you turned around to see your boyfriend smiling lightly at you.

“What?” You said, returning the smile.

“Nothing, just…” His teeth peeked out. “I’m happy I get to spend the day with you. I hope the guys don’t miss me too much.”

“They can have you tomorrow.” You reached out to pull him to his feet, planting a smacking kiss on his upturned lips. “Today you’re mine. Now come up, let’s take Ferret for a ride.”

Hoseok and you climbed up on to the ‘cockpit’ of the Ferret, set up high on the deck and over the galley for visibility and navigation.

“You’re sure you know how to do this, right? Don’t make me have to sail us back tomorrow.” He joked, climbing on to the day bed next to the steering console table as you sat in the chair.

“I might just throw you overboard on your birthday.” You warned absentmindedly.

You slid in the master key first, turning it and pressing the toggle switches on. The LED display lit up, welcoming the captain and panels of instruction and controls came up.

“Where are we going?” Hoseok asked again, curiously, watching you fiddle with the steering, the autopilot and infra red view to go over anything that may come up under the boat. He wasn’t too enthused with the idea but safety was key if he wanted to come back to shore with you.

“We’ll head over to the shallows; find a quiet spot to spend the day. Tomorrow we sail back.” You explained before the purr of the engine carried over the winds.

He watched you turn the small wheel on the control, carefully maneuvering out and away from the docks. The other boats and water vessels slowly decreased in size with the distance gained and again Hoseok internally expressed some gratitude to the heavens that his birthday came up on a relatively less busy day. It was not too cold to take far off vacations but it was still too cold to take one as this.

“Kick back, we have some time before we get there.” You said and he did just that.

Dropping his head back, he tossed his arms up behind to cradle his skull. The sun basked platform warmed his back, which his face heated up with the sun overhead. Soon it would be hot enough to actually warrant a dip in the seas.

He turned his head to look at his girlfriend, hair tied up and off the face, back ramrod straight even though there was nothing in the vicinity to even remotely pose a threat. She was wearing his chain, he noticed. The idea bloomed adoration in his chest, expanding and breathing air into his veins.

The engine had moved from a kitten’s purr to a loud roar, kicking up sea spray that misted around the vessel, cool and smooth as it hit the exposed parts of his skin. He undid the small scarf he had looped into his belt loop to wrap around his hair. He doubted it would do much, but he didn’t want to risk the salt water messing with the dye that was still settling into his scalp.

By the time they reached the shallows, it was reaching midday. You had cut the engine when you reached the shallows, steering till you were close to one of the small out crop of beach land that attracted the tourists. He could spy only one family, farther away into the distance but thankfully, they were too far to make their presence known obviously.

The autopilot engaged just in case, both of you migrated down to the galley, with you digging out a bottle of chilled champagne from the kitchenette. The bubbly popped loudly, with Hoseok cringing at the volume before the rich, crisp alcohol was poured into a stem less flute, kept to the minimum because his tolerance of alcohol was laughably low and well known.

He shuddered to imagine flushing crimson and losing touch with reality this early into the day.

The first hour was given to simply sitting in the shaded part of the deck, nursing the alcohol and catching up on the activities that were missed out on due to the hectic schedules of your lives.

Hoseok wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his frame as he lounged back, feet up on the table, hair fluffing with the passing breeze. The heat, contrasting with the coolness of the sea air and the champagne was enough to lull you into the sleepy state, his soft hums echoing in your ear.

“Hey,” He said finally, his voice teasing. “Don’t’ fall asleep on me now.”

You smiled, sitting up against him. “Sorry, you just feel so peaceful.”

Hoseok kissed you softly before his eyes flickered to the expanse of water behind you. “Take a swim with me?”

Hoseok had been right. The sun had warmed the air enough for the water to be tolerable. Salty, cool and soothing, he plunged into the not too deep waters, his girlfriend laughing as she tossed one of the yacht’s floats in after him.

His head popped up just as you sat down at the edge of the boat, your feet kicking up water towards him.

“Aren’t you going to join?” He called.

“Nah, I want to watch you enjoy.” Your smirk made it clear you were enjoying the view indeed, fingers playing with the fabric of his discarded shirt.

Hoseok smirked right back, swimming closer so he could grab onto a wayward ankle. “Are you planning some mischief, darling?” He asked.

Your face turned impish. “Of course not,” You returned.

“Too bad, because I am.”

A hand smacked hard at the water, cupping and sending a wave of water straight at your face. He backed up quickly, laughing wildly at the stunned look on your face.

“Oh my god, I’m going to kill you!” You screeched, slipping off the deck straight into the water, uncaring of the water soaking through your clothes as you chased after Hoseok.

You spent about an hour in the water, splashing at each other and trying to swim around the other to escape the constant barrages of water. Even as the sun began to dip westwards, the temperature dropped, the cool water chilling against your skin.

Hoseok made you clamber up first, following quickly as you allowed the sea water to drain away first before entering the living space of the yacht.

The evening sun slanted down the slatted windows, illuminating the bags of clothes you’d stocked for the trip two days ago, when you were checking over the yacht one last time. A duffel bag, stuffed with both of your underwear, two extra tops and a change of pants.

Hobi moved to his clothes quickly as you flung them out onto the bed, quickly shucking off the shorts he wore, revealing his boxer briefs, the band hanging just at his pelvis. He grabbed one of the towels from the warming racks, hastily rubbing at his torso even as your actions slowed and then stopped completely, staring at your boyfriend’s visage in the mirror.

Thinly muscled arms moved quickly but precisely, catching any stray drops of water that gathered on his skin and you had to bite your lip, shaking yourself to snap out of it. You still had a cake to cut, damn it.

“What?”

You started, catching Hoseok’s gaze that had now found yours in the mirror. “What are you looking at?” He asked, looking down at himself to see if it was something stuck to his chest that had garnered your attention.

You smiled, handing him the hoodie from the bed, which he quickly zipped over his body, the zipper only reaching midway and leaving his clavicle available to your fervent gaze.

“It’s nothing,” You shrugged. “I just like seeing you shirtless. Never going to get over it,”

Hoseok stopped fluffing his hair, his mouth falling open first in shock at your blatant admission before he was snorting in laughter, body caving from his mirth. It had always been an endearing sight for you. The way his hair turned to floof, his lips and cheeks trembling to contain his chortles and the strain of his body - not from anything stressful though, but pure laughter.

He was beautiful and while it softened your heart for the man across from you, it did nothing to slake your lust.

If anything, it increased your desire to lay him down on the bed and ride him till he was a panting and moaning mess under you, your name on his tongue as he spilled in you.

You cleared your throat, looking away from the mirror and the real thing, down to your fresh clothes.

Cake…you had cake to cut…and dinner to eat.

And even though your body screamed to jump him right then and there, you were a self disciplined woman. You could last.

“Babe, do you mind waiting outside for a bit while I change?”

“Of course,” Hoseok smiled, grabbing the towel to drape around his neck as he exited the room, clicking the door shut after him.

Only then did you relax, peeling your own wet clothes off to change into the dry ones.

Fifty minutes later, Hoseok and you sat on the small dinner table that folded up from one of the couches. Hobi set the table while you cooked in the small kitchen attachment, all of Hoseok’s favorite food and snacks making their way on to the table. Kimchi fried rice steamed, sending tendrils of white mist up which curled around your man as he inhaled the aroma, a glass of Sprite bubbling at his hand.

You had decked out the room with soft fairy lights, too paranoid to risk candles, even though you were out into the water.

“This smells so good, did you add anything extra?”

“Just a lot of love,” You winked, already having promised to not reveal that fact that his mom had given you most of the secret keys to Hoseok’s heart…via his stomach. Fried sesame seeds in a little soy sauce underlying the taste of Kimchi…and here you were.

You swirled a finger around the glass of wine at the counter, waiting for him to dig in and take the first bite, moaning almost immediately as the rice hit his taste buds. “God, I swear my mom cooked this.” he shot you a suspicious look before deciding to let it go.

You grinned, reaching into the small under the counter fridge to pull out the cake.

You had bought, decorated and candled it at least ten days ago, making your best friend hide it in her fridge first before bringing it here. The glass top of the container was lifted carefully, lighting the candles quickly.

Making sure he was still eating, you quickly reached back and turned off the lights, plunging the room in near darkness. Another switch flicked on the fairy lights and the room was then lit up in a beautiful array of orange and pink, revealing Hobi’s surprised face as he looked up with a squawk of protest.

“What’s going on?” He asked, a little high pitched.

You didn’t answer, only picking up the cake and carrying it to the table. Hobi’s expression melted in an O, eyes sparkling at the army bomb candles you’d found. The small picture of you two on the standee, taken on your last anniversary, mirrored his smile.

“I hope you like it.” You mumbled. “I got cherry and strawberry cream filling inside.”

“This is amazing baby, thank you.” He whispered, leaning forward towards the cake.

You folded your arms on the table, “Go on; make a wish.”

Hoseok’s face sobered. He glanced up at you before closing his eyes, a second later blowing out the candles in a quick puff, the only source of light now the twinkling tiny beads that littered the ceiling and walls. His eyes opened, meeting yours with something like awe in his gaze.

“Happy Birthday baby,” You said lightly.

“Babe, you really pulled out all the stops this time.” He whispered.

I laughed, shrugging non-committal. “You’re my boyfriend, and it’s your birthday. I just wanted you to have a nice time.”

“I am.”

“I may have also made a bet with the guys about who you’re going to enjoy spending more time with.”

There was silence in which Hoseok sighed, shaking his head at yours and his friends’ antics but then you were straightening up. “So, what did you wish for?”

“You know, revealing a wish makes it moot.” He pointed out with a smile before grabbing your hand. “But I don’t need to wish for anything more because I have everything I could want right here.” He raised your hand to place a kiss to your knuckles.

You gave him a look. “You wished for a Grammy, didn’t you?”

Hoseok burst out laughing for the second time that evening, thumb caressing the back of your hand. He gave you a coy smile. “You know, I’m having a very nice time right now.”

You nodded.

“But I could be having a nicer time…how about dessert?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You have a whole cake in front of you.”

“Babe!” He whined even as you giggled, leaning over to kiss his nose.

“Well, lucky for you I was thinking the same thing.”

Hoseok beamed, meeting your lips halfway in a soft kiss. His hair tickled your forehead, fingers brushing over the shell of your ears to delve into your hair. He scratched the soft skin of your scalp, a tiny trigger for you. It made you moan, keen further into his body. Somehow he managed to stand you up, guiding you back towards the yacht bedroom with giddy giggles left in your wake.

Once inside, Hoseok pulled you tighter against him, mouthy sounds and soft pants filling the room along with the gentle lapping of the waves outside and noises one can hear at night out in nature. It made the experience feel closer, more intimate as his hands ran over your skin, mapping out roads he’d explored time and again.

The first thing you did when you managed to pull your hands from around his neck was unzip the hoodie, taking your time to trail your fingertips lightly down the now exposed span of skin. Smooth, soft and supple, you couldn’t help but marvel at him being yours.

Hobi gathered your hair away from your neck, his mouth tracing from the edge of your jaw, nuzzling and nipping towards your neck. His fingers played with the hem of your blouse, hitching it up till he was pulling it up off you, tossing it to join his hoodie on the floor.

“Fuck,” he whispered at the sight of your naked chest, having forgone a bra.

Nudging his knee to yours, he backed you into the bed. You sat down with a thump, the mattress bouncing with your fall and started crawling back, Hoseok stalking after you on his hands and knees.

When you were finally propped on the pillows as to his liking, he dipped to kiss down your body again, encasing a sensitive, peaked nipple in his hot mouth, laving it over with saliva. Your head tilted back, back arching into his mouth until his other hand wrapped around the other, kneading it in rhythm with his tongue, essentially pushing you down to the bed.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you cried when he playfully bit into the nub, blunt teeth testing the waters between pain and pleasure. You glanced down to see him look up at you, pulling his lips back to show you the sight and you had to wrap a leg around his waist to tether you to earth. Swollen and dark with the attention, your chest stood out, resting in his hot mouth as he continued to swirl his tongue around it.

When he saw your attention was on him, he lowered his teeth again, pressure increasing steadily until you whined and he let go, pulling away to blow cool air onto the skin.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, pressing further in to make friends with the heat that settled in your thorax. It pulsated and thrummed in your blood, the very line he had made you just walk, mocking you.

The return of Hoseok’s hand, cupping your other mound, fingers gentle but insistently pulling at the other nipple made you look at him again.

“Good?” he asked.

You smiled nodding; your hand joining his to brush your own nipple before you followed the length of his arm, touching his chest, dragging over the sternum to where his happy trail disappeared into his pants.

He leaned in over you, kissing you again, slower, more intense, enough for you to chase after his tongue to suck on. You threw your arm around his neck, holding him to you as tight as you could as if his kissed poured life-breath into your soul.

“Easy baby,” he chuckled in your ear. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” He placed a kiss under your jaw and added a pinch to the nipple he was playing with for added measure.

He moved further down the bed, tugging on your hand to sit you up.

“Come on, I want my dessert.” He winked at you mischievously, throwing his body down to the bed to comfortable lie down, grinning up at you. “Get on here.”

“Are you sure?” You asked. “I mean, it’s your birthday, don’t you -,”

“Shh, it’s my birthday and I know what I want. That’s you; grinding that pretty pussy into my mouth, till you come on my tongue. You can suck me off all you want when it’s your day.”

You gasped, smacking at his shoulder till you were getting onto your knees, crawling over to him and swinging a leg across him. His hands immediately clamped onto the tops of your thighs, squeezing in reassurance.

This wasn’t the first time you were doing this, Hoseok being insistent on your pleasure before him or sometimes only yours, allowed for ‘experiments’ that would enable him to find clues and notes to your body that he blatantly exploited to make you putty in his hands.

A dash of compliments, a pinch of soft kisses, grips of comfort and maybe a good meal if you’ve had a long day revealed to be the key to get you to ride his face. And today, to your dawning realization, he’d played you just as you had attempted to play him.

Damn his brains…

“It’s okay,” he whispered again, much closer to your core now before he was helping you lower yourself to his mouth.

Your breath hitched when you felt his lips rove in a circle over the most sensitive part of your inner thigh, just at the apex where he loved to hover. He nibbled the skin, teasing it with his tongue and teeth before a hand was smoothing over your rear, warning you of the coming onslaught.

You leaned back to watch the sight. Hoseok’s dark hair upon the bed, his glimmering forehead with a few stray strands matted to the skin and then those eyes.

Eyes that shimmered with greedy lust, mirroring yours and overwhelming in the way they channeled your wants through them. If there was anyone who was truly able to give you a peek into their soul by their eyes; it was Hoseok.

And you, oh so, loved it…

The first deep, hard swish of his tongue along your slit had your moan catching in your throat, coming out broken and whiny. There was no time to get acclimated to the sensation of the barest hint of stubble against your soft skin as he moved his tongue again, back and forth, collecting your arousal and massaging it back into your folds.

You chanced a look downwards, seeing Hoseok’s eyes closed too, eyebrows furrowed in pure concentration. His nose was buried inside you and you could feel his breath waft against you.

“Fuck Hobi,” You finally breathed out, not even out of pleasure but the sheer picture he painted with the way he looked. You could write odes but none would ever match his glory.

He pulled away from your core, grinning up at you.

“I like it when you say that.” He told you, index finger resuming the path of his tongue, circling on your clit. He looked down at it. “I like it when this pussy quivers.” He slipped the digit inside and you swore he had hit the spot at first try.

You wouldn’t be surprised, he had had enough practice.

“Yeah?” You asked, sounding lame.

“Oh definitely,” he hummed. “But you know what I like even more?”

You looked at him puzzled, eyes widening when he smacked your ass lightly, jolting you against his finger. “I like when you actually ride my face.”

You stared.

“What are you waiting for?”

You kept your eyes on him before slowly anchoring your hands back on his chest. Hoseok’s eyes narrowed, his tongue poking out and then you hesitantly rolled your hips, the pearl of your clit catching the ridge of his tongue.

“Good,” He nodded as best as he could from under you. “Now; do it like you mean it; use me, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the small burning ember in your pelvic floor before grinding down insistently; feeling the bare hint of tongue increase till it was basically a landing pad for you. Your nerve ending sizzled with each contact, Hobi’s hands moving and tracing patterns into your hips to keep you going until you were giving him exactly what he wanted, coming over his tongue.

The digit in your cunt doubled, the soft muscle digging into your core to lap up any wetness he could find but all it did was add to the mess until you couldn’t stand the friction. You writhed away from him, rolling onto the bed haphazardly, Hoseok following. He gripped onto your wrists, pulling you closer to coo over you, praising you for the job well done.

You were his good girl, he was going to fuck you real slow and nice for this; you felt rather than hear his whispers, muffled even though they were against your shoulder.

Hoseok collected you in his arms, winding and tight to your back.

“Can you lift your leg, baby?”

You did as he asked, with Hoseok helping you prop the leg until it lay over his upper arm. The stretch burned, but you knew he was walking the line between pain-pleasure again.

When you felt him enter you, slow but steady, filling you to the brim in one practiced slide, your eyes met his – gazes locked with unsaid words that didn’t need to be voiced out loud.

It was there in your touches, in your kisses, in the way you looked at each other.

He thrust, hips canting into yours and your head fell back, knowing he was going to take care of both him and you this time around. His pace remained calm, the only indicators of his unraveling being the grunts echoing in your ears and the way his lips and kisses became teeth and bites; littering the skin of your neck and shoulders with the mark of his desire for you.

His hands had moved from your back to your ass, gripping the soft flesh to fuck into you, rolling his hips until your sweat slicked bodies moved as one, plunged into a blissful orgasm that painted your body with splashes of his overflowing pleasure.

Hoseok cursed, grabbing onto his length to drive further into you, cock twitching and emptying the last of its essence into your cove.

“Holy shit,” You were the first to speak.

“Yeah,” Your loved raised his head, eyebrows quirked. “No shit,”

You both broke into giggles before he was gently pulling out, tutting at the mess that was probably on the bed. “I sure hope the captain of Ferret has fresh sheets on board.”

You raised a lazy hand, pointing towards the cupboard where you were told extra linens would be. Hoseok got up, golden and naked for your viewing pleasure before a particular notion had you grabbing at his hand, making him turn to you.

“You enjoyed your birthday with me more than you will with the guys’ right?”

“Oh baby,” He laughed, kissing your nose. “They can’t hope to give me the kind of celebration you just did.”

#bts jhope #jhope x reader #bts #ficswithluv #btsguild #bangtansorciere #btswriterscollective #jhope smut #jhope fluff #jhope fanfic #jhope fic #jhope #jung hoseok #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic

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uncommoncold · 3 years

Text

Treasure

Summary: After a lengthy chase, Park Seonghwa finds himself face to face with the dread pirate Hongjoong. Will he find a blood thirsty pirate or dashing rogue? Will he lose the one thing that he holds most dear, his heart?

Word Count: 11.2k

Content Warning: Top Park Seonghwa, Bottom Kim Hongjoong, Pirate-teez, Boys Kissing, Oral Sex, Two Sex

The flag whipped violently with the gale winds and blistering rain. “Captain, if we keep going like we are, we’re going to break apart.”

“I know but unless you’re looking for a long drop and a short stop, we have to keep going.” He peered through his cabin window and into the storm, trying to make out the shape of their pursuers. The fact that he couldn’t see them gave him hope.

At first they had kept their distance, following just far enough away to make him think perhaps he was mistaken. But they had followed for two days, getting closer the closer they got to the islands. He knew what that meant, they were being hunted.

Not that he wasn’t sure that someone thought he deserved it. He had done more than enough to put himself a few people’s sights.

“They can’t possibly see us if we can’t see them.” Hongjoong mused.

“Let’s head for the leeward side of this island.” He pointed to the map. “There’s a cove there we can shelter in. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they already took refuge from the storm, or better yet, maybe they sank.”

His first mate, Yunho smirked and nodded.

A short while later, they were pulling into a sheltered cove. It was a risk, if their pursuers were still chasing them, then they were stuck with nowhere and no way to run. However, it was sheltered enough that if you didn’t know it was there, you could sail right by and never see a ship. The island wasn’t populated by more than flora and fauna but it would do to sit out the storm.

Normally, it would have been a good time to pull out the casks and enjoy some downtime but he didn’t dare when they didn’t know who was on their tails. It seemed unlikely that whoever it was was hunting him to give him birthday wishes. He couldn’t count out revenge or the authorities.

***

“We’ve lost them sir.” Seonghwa informed the captain.

“It’s this blasted storm, keep looking. I’m not letting that son of a bitch slip away again.”

“Again sir?”

“I’ve been looking for him for nearly three years since he took my last ship. Brazen, cocky, and slippery as an eel. I’ve been so careful… I’ll have the reward and see him dance on the end of a rope yet.”

Seonghwa wasn’t entirely sure he liked the malicious light that lit up his captain’s eyes as he talked about seeing the pirate they were chasing hang. It wasn’t that he was ignorant of crime and punishment, he just preferred not to watch it and he took no joy in death. The captain was no longer a young man and he was determined to have the pirate Hongjoong in his grasp before he died.

“Since we’ve lost him, I suggest we shelter from the storm at one of the nearby islands, sir.”

For a long moment, the captain was quiet before heaving a weary sigh and nodding, “Alright, take us in. We’ll pick up the search after the storm dies down.”

“Yes, sir.” Seonghwa went out on deck and informed the helmsman of the captain’s decision and they fought their way into the bay of a nearby island. It was just in time as well as the storm was only getting worse. It was just a little spit of land, mountainous and good for nothing unless you liked coconuts and sea birds.

***

“Captain!” Yunho tore into the room.

Hongjoong had been nursing a headache but he bolted upright from his bed, “What is it.”

“A ship pulled into the bay sir. They’re making no moves toward us but if they get any closer, they’ll surely spot us. What do you want to do?”

Hongjoong headed up on deck and looked through his telescope at the ship’s colors. Shit. He knew exactly who that was, he had been chasing him for nigh on three years now, ever since he took his ship. In fact, it was his ship that he was using now. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the railing. He could send the men with the cargo inland but there were no promises they wouldn’t go looking for them and they would be vastly outnumbered… “I have an idea.”

Yunho turned slowly, Hongjoong was grinning broadly at him. “I don’t like that smile.”

“It’s a really stupid idea that just might get me killed but will ensure everyone else’s safety.”

“I really don’t like this idea.” Yunho crossed his arms and glared at his captain sternly.

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I’ve heard enough to know I don’t like it, not if it might get you killed. The last time we went with a plan that might get you killed, I ended up running naked through town.”

“You won’t end up naked this time. I promise.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“No, you won’t like it.” Yunho tended to think of himself as Hongjoong’s keeper, he chased after him when he needed to be chased. He protected him from his own most dire instincts. He was the best first mate and friend Hongjoong could ask for. This time he wasn’t joking, it really might get him killed. It was a roll of the dice, then again, life was a roll of the dice.

Yunho groaned, “Alright tell me.”

Yunho listened to Hongjoong’s plan and it was absolutely the daftest thing he had ever heard in all of his life but if he could pull it off, it would save the lives of everyone on board but it still would leave his own life in a precarious place. Honestly, he couldn’t think of a better plan. They were a small ship and they had two guns out of commission. He also knew that Hongjoong put the lives of his crew above his own, it was part of why he was so well loved. He was a great captain… and friend. “Why do I get the feeling if I say no, you’ll do it anyway.”

“Because I will.”

“Shit.” Yunho ran his hands through his hair and braced his hands against his hips. “Fine, I can’t stop you.”

They set to work, loading one of the dinghy’s with provisions and a small amount of the treasure they had accumulated. It took a little cajoling but he had Yunho punch him a few times.

Hongjoong then cut his head with his trusty knife and let the blood run down over the side of his face and ear. “How do I look?”

“Like a man who has had a rough time.”

“That’s how I want to look. Let’s go.”

“Be careful.” Yunho grabbed Hongjoong in a tight hug. “If you get yourself killed I’ll never forgive you.”

“How do you think I’d feel about it? I’m not ready to die yet.” Hongjoong grinned brightly and stepped into the dinghy. He waved as it hit the water. Happily, the wind was on his side, he sailed out to where he should be able to be seen by the larger ship and lowered his sail. He then lay down in the boat and waited. It didn’t take long before he saw two boats break away from the larger boat and come his way. “Ahoy!”

Hongjoong put on a show of struggling to lift his head before raising a hand, “Ahoy!”

They towed him back toward the bigger ship, when he was brought on board, he spun a tale of intrigue. There had been a mutiny on his ship and he had just barely managed to escape. The men who had picked him up were enraptured by the tale he told. Seonghwa stood by and listened, he certainly looked the part. He had seen better days. There was something about his story that niggled at the back of his head but their guest was still a man alone with few provisions and just looking for a lift to the closest populated island.

They were a full crew of able bodied men with arms. Seonghwa was just about to show him to a cabin when the captain came out. Immediately he began pointing and sputtering. Hongjoong paled when he saw the captain. The old man immediately lunged at Hongjoong and caught him right on the chin with a forceful left that knocked him to his knees. In all truth, it had taken Hongjoong by surprise. He wouldn’t have thought that someone of his age could have come up with such speed.

“What’s he doing here?” The captain said as he stepped back nursing his sore knuckles.

Seonghwa told him the story that had been relayed to them. The captain’s expression slowly shifted from incredulous to gleeful. “All of these years and I’ve finally got you where I want you. Toss him in the brig.”

“Yes, sir.” Seonghwa grabbed one of Hongjoong’s arms and another sailor grabbed the other.

Hongjoong shot a look of pure venom at the captain.

“What are you going to do? Swim? We’ve got your boat and this island is uninhabited. Maybe the magistrate will be lenient on you but considering you're a wanted man, I doubt it. Oh and one more thing…” The captain hauled off and punched him again and again. “That’s for my ship.”

By the time he was thrown into the brig, his head was swimming and his ears were ringing. Yunho hadn’t pulled his punches, nor had the captain. He was alive… for now. Considering that they didn’t go into battle, nor were the rest of his crew joining him, his ruse had worked. He breathed a sigh of relief and waited.

Eventually, the storm passed. He could hear sounds overhead of the crew making ready to get underway. It was another hour that he strained his ears for every little sound before deciding that they really were underway and heading back out to sea. Only then did he risk laying down and closing his eyes.

Seonghwa lay in his bunk and stared at the ceiling. It seemed almost miraculous that the very man they were looking for just happened to have a mutiny and just happened to end up in their hands. He couldn’t think of a reason why he would just hand himself over to someone who wanted him dead. Surely stranger things had happened in the history of the world. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, pirate or no. He had had a string of really rotten luck.

Since the captain hadn’t given him any orders to not feed the prisoner, he took it upon himself to bring him down some food. The fact that the captain just so happened to be busy when he did was purely coincidental… mostly.

The prisoner looked a good deal worse for wear, bruises had formed on his cheek, jaw, and left eye into his hairline. The swelling had gone down though. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Hongjoong lifted his head and offered a half smile as their eyes met.

Seonghwa’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately looked away, unable to account for the strange feeling.

“I’m going to guess this wasn’t the captain’s order?” He said as he reached out to take the bowl of porridge. There were bits of some sort of meat in it, salted fish if he were to take a guess.

“How did you know?” Seonghwa looked back surprised.

“Someone who has been chasing me as long as he’s been chasing me, is not likely to be the forgiving sort. I doubt he would be worried at all about my comfort and would probably like to see me suffer as much as possible.” He took a bite, their ship’s cook wasn’t as good as Wooyoung was but it was passable. He was lucky he was getting anything at all.

“I guess you weren’t expecting to end up here.” Seonghwa watched Hongjoong take another bite.

“No, I have to admit, it was a big surprise to me. I’m not sure what I thought would happen when I left my ship.”

Hongjoong paused for a moment before asking, “Are you supposed to be talking to the prisoner?” Despite what might be a harsh question, there was an almost mischievous light in his dark eyes.

“No, probably not.”

“A man who likes to break the rules, I like men like that.”

“Are you trying to charm me?” Seonghwa asked. It was unusual to find someone as charming as he found their prisoner. He found himself wanting to get to know him. His smile was a physical weapon he could wield as surely as a sword or a pistol.

“Only if it’s working. If not, then of course not.” Hongjoong flashed an easy smile.

That forced a surprised laugh from Seonghwa. There was that smile again, the weight of it hit him and he found himself gazing at Hongjoong’s lips. For some reason Seonghwa was suddenly wondering about the details of his mutiny. He seemed like an easy man to like, which meant that wasn’t why his crew had mutinied. Still, he was going to have to face the fact that they were probably taking him to his death. Then again, maybe he was entirely different here than he was with his men, perhaps he was a tyrant but something whispered to him, told him that wasn’t the case.

He didn’t like it.

If the prisoner was a pirate, then he had killed dozens of people. He found himself asking, “How many men have you killed?”

Hongjoong looked surprised at the sudden question, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you?”

“That means it’s either very high or very low.”

“Very low.” There was no hint of teasing when he said it. There were times when killing someone was unavoidable but every single death had repercussions, if not for himself then for someone, somewhere and he took each death as something that should be respected and honored, no matter who his foe was.

“Really?” Seonghwa asked, genuinely curious.

“There are usually many, many ways to get what you want without resorting to murder.”

“Then why are you wanted?”

“Ah, now just because I’m not a wanton murderer doesn’t mean that I haven’t broken any laws. I have broken more than a few laws and I don’t feel bad about that in the least.” The smile was back and this time he turned its full power on Seonghwa who felt more than a little shaken by it. Bruises and all, the pirate Hongjoong was a beautiful man and a fascinating one. He opened his mouth to ask another question when someone bellowed his name from above.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll bring you something later.” He turned and started to walk away.

“How far are we from shore?”

“We’re about three days out from the nearest port that I know you are wanted at.” He might be a pirate but he wasn’t a big enough name to be wanted everywhere. However, one group of people that wanted to hang you was more than enough.

“Three days… I didn’t catch your name.” Hongjoong said.

“Park Seonghwa, you?”

“Kim Hongjoong. For what it’s worth, I appreciate the food, even if it is going to waste in a dead man’s belly.”

“If it gives you comfort, then there’s no waste.” Seonghwa walked away then, heading up to find out who was calling him.

Hongjoong played with his food while he thought about his guest. He wondered if he might be inclined to help him escape. He drummed his fingers against his knee as he contemplated it. Yet his thoughts kept drifting back to the man himself, he was almost heartstopping in his physical beauty. There was a gentle aura around him that made him seem like someone he would want to protect. He sighed and pushed the thought of his sparkling eyes and sweet smile out of his head.

Despite what he said, he had no intention of dying. There were a thousand ways to get what you wanted, he had managed to save his crew now hopefully, he could find a way to save himself.

Over the next few days, Seonghwa continued to bring Hongjoong his meals and they spoke at length. Seonghwa told him all about his home, his family. His father used to have his own ship but he had decided that with the pirates, it was safer on shore so he had retired from the sea to run his own shop, which proved to be an excellent move on his part. Their family business did far better than expected and he had managed to secure an excellent retirement for himself and his family.

Hongjoong had planned on playing it close to the vest but he found himself opening up to Seonghwa, he told him of his ill-spent youth, why he had turned to piracy. He told him a good deal more about himself than he ever intended, he found himself waiting anxiously for just a glimpse of Seonghwa’s face through his day. It wasn’t just because he was bored either, it was because he genuinely enjoyed his company. He loved listening to his deep smooth voice, he loved listening to his stories. He was going to be sorry to lose him when there was still so much he didn’t know about him. Unless he could swing it so that he didn’t have to.

There was a buzz in the air on the fourth day since Hongjoong had been captured. He wasn’t sure what time it was when two burly men came down to his cell to let him out. When he was brought up on deck, the captain was standing there looking like the cat who caught the canary. Seonghwa was standing nearby but the expression on his face was conflicted. There were three men waiting, they looked like town guards and perhaps a magistrate. They handed the captain a small purse, presumably the reward for catching the dread pirate, before they clapped Hongjoong in irons and began to drag him away.

“Bye bye, I’ll see you at your hanging.” The captain called after Hongjoong.

Now that Hongjoong was taken care of, the captain turned a brilliant smile on Seonghwa, who couldn’t help feeling a little sick. “Now that I’ve seen to it that that miscreant will hang, what say you we have a talk eh?”

Seonghwa took a last look at Hongjoong’s back, he wanted to run after them but he managed to suppress the impulse before following after the captain who headed into his cabin. “You’ve proven to be an excellent first mate, have you ever thought about captaining your own ship?”

“Sir?” Seonghwa looked puzzled at the question.

“Well now that I’ve done what I wanted to do, I’d like to retire, head back home to my wife and family. That means this ship will need a captain, I’d like to hand her over to you. You keep running it in my name and we split the profits, what do you think?”

It sounded like a dream come true, “Are you sure, sir?”

“I think it sounds like a fine plan. Your first task as captain is to let the men have shore leave for the next week.”

“Yes sir!” Seonghwa did as he was bid to the delights of all of the crew

Seonghwa himself headed into town and found an inn. He was looking forward to sleeping in a bed that didn’t sway and a fresh meal. As he sat down to his lunch he couldn’t help but imagine Hongjoong in jail. In the days they had spent together, they had grown to know each other quite well and he just couldn’t stand the idea of him locked up without a friend nearby to hear his woes or maybe help to make him a little more comfortable. If he were completely honest, the man he had gotten to know didn’t deserve the hangman’s noose. He deserved his freedom. He kept telling himself that he wasn’t going to interfere but still he found himself asking the locals as to the location of the local jail.

It was in a small wooden building, the front was where the guards sat and the back was the jail. It was a small town and it didn’t look like their city guard was the largest employer in town. It was a small and run down building. He couldn’t imagine it would be particularly warm or well insulated.

“What am I doing?” Seonghwa paced back and forth. He wanted to go see him, make sure he was alright. But he already didn’t like the idea that he was going to die. He didn’t like the idea of him being hurt or suffering at all. Maybe he was too soft hearted. By the time he finally made up his mind to go, it was getting dark. He marched up to the guardhouse. There was an exceptionally tall man talking to one of the guards animatedly.

He approached the other guard who was sitting behind a desk smoking a pipe and looking bored. “Excuse me, I was wondering if I could see a prisoner.”

“Sure, I’d ask who but there’s only the one?” The man drawled as he pulled his feet from the desk and sat up.

“Kim Hongjoong.” Seonghwa said anyway.

The man who was talking to the other guard looked momentarily surprised and stopped talking but seemed to shrug it off and returned to his conversation. He couldn’t tell since it was at his back but the man was now watching him.

The guard took him back into the back of the jail, there were only two cells and only one of them was occupied. Hongjoong was stretched out on the floor staring blankly up at the ceiling, when he heard the footsteps stop in front of his cell, he said without looking over, “I was wondering if you were going to come see me.”

“I almost didn’t.” Seonghwa said as he grabbed a chair from the corner and dragged it over to sit by the cell.

“What made you change your mind?” Hongjoong sat up and turned to face his visitor.

“I had a question for you.”

“Oh?” Hongjoong perked up and gave a curious tilt of the head.

“Is it true?” Seonghwa leaned forward, lowering his tone and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Is what true?”

“How you came to be on our ship?” It was the one question that he hadn’t asked that he had wanted to.

Hongjoong was quiet for a moment as he contemplated Seonghwa, “Let me ask you a question, how close are you to the captain?”

“He’s my employer. He took me on after my father retired. It’s purely business and if I’m completely honest…” He looked around and added, “I don’t really care for him much.”

Hongjoong pursed his lips thoughtfully, “Hm… Then in that case, I don’t feel bad letting you know the truth. It was a plot.”

“A plot?”

“A plan, a ruse, a machination, you see… my ship was harbored in the bay that your ship sailed into. If I didn’t do something, then we would have been stuck with no way to run. Your ship is a good deal larger than mine, we were outgunned, outmanned and trapped. My crew means everything to me and if I could save them by sacrificing myself then I would… and I did. I was kind of hoping for an opportunity to escape but one never came.” Hongjoong sniffed and brushed the back of his finger against the tip of his nose.

“Is that why you were so friendly with me?” Seonghwa asked.

“Yes and no.” He answered honestly. “If you would have given me the chance, I would have taken it but you didn’t. I don’t hold it against you and I don’t regret having spent time with you. I-”

Hongjoong looked thoughtful, carefully thinking about what he wanted to say. He finally gave up with a sigh and shrugged, “I like you. I like talking to you, spending time with you. Even if we had met under different circumstances, I would have still liked you.”

Seonghwa opened and closed his mouth a couple of times and dropped his head thoughtfully. Conflicted emotions reflected in Seonghwa’s face, “I almost wish I had, you sacrificed yourself for your men. That’s not an act that should be punished but celebrated. I think, believe it or not, you might actually be a good man.”

Hongjoong smiled brightly, “That’s a hell of a thing to say to a man sitting in a cell waiting for escape or the hangman’s noose.”

“I believe it.”

“Then,” Hongjoong scooted closer to the bars, “if I asked, would you help me?”

“Help you how?” Seonghwa was completely cognizant of the fact that he might be being played but he didn’t think that Hongjoong was playing him.

At the skeptical expression on Seonghwa’s face, Hongjoong waved his hands. “No, it’s nothing like that. Could you take a message to one of my crew, I know they are here. There’s no way they would let me swing without trying… something.”

“Only a message?”

“Only a message.”

“What’s the message and who am I taking it to?”

“There’s an inn on the far side of town, away from the harbor, near the blacksmith. There’s a man named Choi Jongho, he’ll be staying there.” He proceeded to describe him down to the fact that he dressed far more nicely than you would expect of a pirate, a bit of a dandy and his jewelry.

“Would you tell him that if the weather’s fair then open the sails and if the skies are threatening, to fold up the sails and ride out the weather.”

Seonghwa frowned at the message, it sounded plain and harmless enough but he wasn’t a total fool. He knew there was meaning to what he was being asked to say. “Alright, I’ll deliver it.”

He took a deep breath and looked at Hongjoong squarely, “If you get the chance…”

Hongjoong turned a brilliant smile on him, “Absolutely. I’m a man who takes every opportunity he gets.”

“After I deliver your message, I’ve got some business to attend to but I’ll come back to see you again.”

“You know,” he paused and then nodded, “I think I’d like that very much. I’ll look forward to it.”

Seonghwa bid Hongjoong farewell feeling both better and worse than he had when he had arrived. He now knew the truth of how he had come to be on the ship but now that he knew the truth, he couldn’t just let him sit in a cell until they hung him.

He followed the directions he had been given to the inn near the blacksmith. When he asked for Choi Jongho the man eyed him coolly until he said he had a message from his captain. He repeated it back to him word for word. “He would say that. Idiot.”

He looked Seonghwa up and down, “Why did he send you with it?”

“I told him I wanted to help him if I could. I don’t think he deserves to be executed, maybe some prison time but not executed.”

Choi Jongho laughed outright, “Hopefully, it won’t come to that. Thank you for the message.”

If the captain trusted him, he felt like he ought to extend him the same but the captain tended to fly by the seat of his pants sometimes and he was more cautious than that. He bid Seonghwa farewell and called together the other members of the crew to tell them about the captain’s message and then they all waited for Yunho and San to return to find out whether or not the guards were bribeable.

It was quite late when Seonghwa got time to go back to the jail. He should probably just wait until the morning but he didn’t want to leave Hongjoong waiting to know that his message had been delivered, assuming it was as important as he thought it might be. Much to his surprise not only was the door unlocked but there were no guards to be seen. Did they go home at night? That would be strange wouldn’t it? It wasn’t as if they had a lot of prisoners to watch but what if something happened? What if someone escaped? Although, in this case, he wished someone would escape. If it was empty and the keys were nearby...Yes, he would let him out.

If his men were here then that meant that his ship was here and they could escape. The captain would be livid if Hongjoong escaped but he didn’t care about the fragile ego of one vindictive old man who spent three years chasing someone because of one lost ship when he owned a whole fleet.

Seonghwa turned back to look at the open guardhouse door when he heard a sound behind him. He turned to see Hongjoong and then just as suddenly, he felt the other man’s lips close on his, his hand reaching up to cup Seonghwa’s cheek. He was too startled to remember to respond or push him away or react at all. He felt the hot wet brush of his tongue against his lips before he pulled away.

All he could manage was to gape at the shorter man who had just kissed him. Finally he managed, “You’re out.”

Hongjoong smiled, “I am and I’m getting out of here. Wanna come with me?”

“With you?”

“Whether you're coming with me or not, let’s get out of here. The guards won’t be gone forever.” Hongjoong grabbed Seonghwa’s hand and tugged him out of the guardhouse and toward the docks. As they walked, Seonghwa looked down at their still joined hands in total bemusement. He didn’t know what to do or say but he did notice when a man intercepted them.

“Captain.”

“San, is the ship ready?”

“Sort of.”

“I can’t really linger around these parts, we need to go - Now.”

“We had more damage from the storm than we realized and by the time we got into port… There’s no way the shipwright can have the repairs finished by the time we needed so…” San gestured for the pair to follow him. He spared a glance at Seonghwa, wondering if that was the man who had delivered the captain’s message to Jongho.

If the captain thought he was good to join the crew then it was alright by him. The more the merrier. However, the way they were holding hands made him think it might be something else. He guided them to the docks and right to Seonghwa’s ship. Seonghwa stopped before following up the gangplank when Hongjoong pulled up to a stop, “Are you serious?”

“It really was the best option,” said San.

“And Yunho was feeling vindictive.” said another man who was a little shorter than San and bore an open smile. “It’s good to have you back captain. If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll keelhaul you myself.”

Hongjoong laughed, “It’s good to see you too Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung grabbed Hongjoong up in a warm hug and squeezed him tight. Hongjoong gave a little squeak at the force with which he was hugged.

“Where’s the crew?” Hongjoong asked as he canted his head toward the ship.

“Shore leave.” commented Seonghwa. All heads turned to look at him questioningly.

“This is Park Seonghwa, he was the first mate on this ship but he’ll be joining us now. Right?” He turned to look at Seonghwa.

Finally Seonghwa snapped out of the haze that he had been pitched into when Hongjoong kissed him. “I-”

Did he want to go with them? It surely meant being hunted, they were wanted men after all. Hongjoong was an escaped prisoner, a thief, a pirate, and who knew what else. Yet he was thinking about it, seriously.

“Go on, I’ll catch up.” Hongjoong said to the assembled men before he turned back to Seonghwa. “Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

“But you want to.”

“Yes.”

“Well then there’s only one thing to do, come with us and you can say you were asleep in your room when we took the ship, so we accidentally kidnapped you. If you change your mind later, then we can let you off at the next port of call.” Not waiting to see if Seonghwa agreed with him or not, Hongjoong grabbed his hand again and dragged him behind him up the gangplank.

“Captain.” Yunho walked out onto the deck and smiled broadly.

“How much did it cost?” Hongjoong asked.

“They really should pay their guards more because it didn’t even take a quarter of our last haul to see to it that they found something else to do for half an hour.”

Hongjoong nodded, “Good, good if everyone’s on board, let’s shove off shall we?”

“Aye, aye captain.” Yunho turned and began to bark out orders. The men all jumped to and began to make way to set sail.

“By the way Yunho…”

Yunho stopped what he was doing and turned to look at his captain.

“Thank you.”

Yunho smiled and nodded, “You’re welcome. It’s good to have you back captain.”

“It’s good to be back. This is Park Seonghwa, he’ll - hopefully, be joining us permanently. He was the first mate of this ship but I think he needs a little time to get to know us first… or maybe just me. Seonghwa, this is my first mate Jeong Yunho. After we get out of here, I’ll take you around and introduce you to everyone. We’ve got some really good people on this ship.”

“Energetic people.” Yunho added with a touch of mirth.

“Maybe we have too much energy.” Hongjoong posited.

Yunho snickered and went back to work. As they cleared the harbor, the town bells sounded, likely announcing that there had been an escape. Hongjoong turned to Seonghwa, “Want to show me around? Show me the captain’s quarters. I know the brig well enough, it’ll be nice to see the rest of the ship.”

Seonghwa still wasn’t quite sure this all felt real. One minute he had been trying to think of the best way to help Hongjoong escape, the next minute he was on a stolen ship making their escape. Then it occurred to him exactly what they had just done. They had stolen yet another ship from the man who had spent three years chasing him down for having stolen his ship.

Would he immediately outfit another ship and give chase again? He knew that his wife held the purse strings and she wanted him back home. Somehow he couldn’t imagine her sanctioning another three year long wild goose chase. He was likewise sure that Hongjoong wouldn’t allow himself to be caught again so easily, unless his men were on the line again. That didn’t seem like the kind of situation that happened more than once. The real question was, now what was he doing here? Was he perhaps infatuated with the dashing pirate? That was the only reason he could think of that he had accepted the offer of joining them as a trial run. His family was going to kill him if he became a pirate. He was supposed to take a few years out to sea and then come home and learn the family business with his brother, not take up piracy because he had a crush on a pirate.

“Sure,” he said after perhaps too long of a pause. “I’ll give you a tour, we can start at the bottom and work our way up.”

Fifteen minutes later they were standing at the door to the captain’s quarters. The door was locked but Seonghwa had the key.

“I guess he trusted you.” Hongjoong commented as he watched Seonghwa unlock the door.

That gave him a pang of guilt as he pushed the door open, “He offered me the captaincy of this ship after they took you away.”

“So I stole your ship?” Hongjoong asked as he followed Seonghwa into the room and closed the door behind them. It was poshly appointed. The furnishings were over the top in the extreme, it was as if the former captain was furnishing a mansion instead of a room on a ship. No wonder he had locked it.

“I hadn’t exactly taken control yet.” He said. It hadn’t actually sunk in yet that this ship was going to be his. Perhaps it was his ship that had been stolen but it didn’t feel that way.

“That’s not right, I don’t steal from friends.”

“Friends?”

“We are friends aren’t we?” Hongjoong took a step toward Seonghwa.

Seonghwa felt his heart pick up pace and he swallowed hard in a suddenly dry throat. “Are we?”

“Unless you want to be more…” Hongjoong reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers over Seonghwa’s cheek.

“What do you mean more?” Seonghwa’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat.

“I want to be your lover. You don’t know that already?” He asked.

Without really realizing he was doing it, Seonghwa took the final step forward, closing the distance between the two of them. There was nothing that separated them now. He leaned down, eyes intense as they met Hongjoong’s before he kissed him. The softness of their lips played together, their tongues met giving an electric thrill.

Seonghwa gave a small sound of pleasure as they sank into one another, their arms stealing around one another, bodies flush together. Their hands began to roam over each other. Seonghwa’s lips traveled down over Hongjoong’s jawline, down to his throat. He tasted his pulse thrumming against his lips, he scraped his teeth over the silken skin of his neck. “Why am I so captivated by you?”

“The same reason that I can’t get you out of my head.” Hongjoong gasped and sighed.

“I know the feeling, every time I close my eyes I see you, hear your voice, I can’t stop thinking about you. God you taste so good…” He leaned back in and reclaimed Hongjoong’s lips.

Running his hands up over Seonghwa’s stomach, he caught the material of his blouse and pulled it up, his fingers grazing against his bare skin as he did so. They traveled further, slipping under the soft linen as they moved over his bare chest, the slightly long tips of his nails raking over Seonghwa’s nipples. They tightened at the delicate scraping. A soft moan slipped between their joined lips, let out with a sigh.

Seonghwa pulled his jacket from his shoulders and let it drop at their feet, Hongjoong caught his shirt and pulled it up over his head, immediately dropping his head to rain kisses over his bare chest, to taste his skin.

Seonghwa moved to pull off Hongjoong’s clothes as Hongjoong worked at his partners’. They moved in concert back toward the bed, Seonghwa moving over the smaller man as they moved. The heat of their bodies grinding together, their cocks sliding together. Hongjoong reached between them, wrapping his fingers around their lengths, trapping them against one another as he stroked.

Seonghwa’s golden skin was beginning to glisten in the low lamp light. A drop of sweat trickled down over his smooth chest, running down to where their naked bodies pressed together. His kisses traversed their way down over Hongjoong’s chin, his throat, suckling and biting his nipples before continuing down. The muscles in his stomach trembled as Seonghwa’s lips brushed down over his ribs to his hip bones. Hongjoong squirmed, his hips rising up as Seonghwa’s beautiful lips wrapped around the head of his cock. His finger’s winding in Seonghwa’s thick dark locks, a heady sigh falling from his parted lips.

He had never wanted anyone so badly as he wanted Seonghwa and his body was on fire and Seonghwa’s touch were the flames that consumed him. He watched the way his lips glided over him, consuming him. He was so beautiful, their eyes met and Hongjoong smiled, “You’re going to make me cum if you keep that up.”

“Maybe I want you to cum… or maybe I just want to make you squirm.” Seonghwa smiled in return as he flicked his tongue against the sensitive underside of Hongjoong’s throbbing prick. Then quite suddenly, Seonghwa dropped his head down, pushing Hongjoong’s cock all the way to the back of his throat before bobbing his head up and down.

A sudden hiss and a sharp inhalation of breath as Hongjoong slammed his hands down against the bed, his hips arching upward without his bidding. His orgasm was ripped from him as he fucked back against Seonghwa’s face.

The first spurt of sticky sweet cum hit the back of Seonghwa’s throat as he sucked milking him for every last drop.

Slowly he let his lover’s cock slip from his lips as he crawled back up over his body. He caught Hongjoong’s lips in a sultry kiss before murmuring against him, “We need-...”

“I came prepared.” Hongjoong interjected before he turned and leaned over the side of the bed to capture his clothes. From a pouch tied to his belt, he produced a small corked bottle. As he wiggled back onto the bed, he held it up and shook it slightly.

“See?” He pulled the stopper and poured a liberal amount of oil into his palm and reached for Seonghwa’s swollen length. Seonghwa’s head fell back, throaty groan slipping past his full lips. He rested back on his hands, presenting himself for Hongjoong’s attentions.

The teasing smile was back on Hongjoong’s lips again as he lifted the bottle and poured some of the oil over Seonghwa’s chest and stomach, leaving him glistening as he ran his hands down, to return to stroking. He bowed his head to suckle Seonghwa’s balls and nibble the insides of his thighs. God he was so beautiful in the lamp light, his eyes filled with a universe of stars as he stared at him with unabashed lust, his golden skin aglow.

His breathing grew short, he could feel himself getting close so he reached out and caught Hongjoong’s hand and brought his fingers up to kiss them. “I want more than that now, I want you.”

Hongjoong licked his lips and nodded as he leaned into Seonghwa’s and kissed him. Seonghwa’s arm slipped around his waist as he leveraged Hongjoong back into the mass of pillows, slipping easily between his thighs. He buried his face against his throat and breathed, “I want to be inside you.”

Hongjoong gasped at the nip of teeth at his neck, he could feel Seonghwa’s cock sliding against him, not as eager as his words made him seem but slowly and methodically grinding against him. He wriggled against his touch as Seonghwa’s reached between their bodies and slid his slick, oiled fingers against him and into him.

“I’ve never done this before…” Hongjoong breathed. “But for you, I want you.”

Seonghwa raised his head and looked down at Hongjoong, instead of teasing or darkly lustful, there was supreme tenderness and affection. “I’ll go slow.”

As he promised, he slowly worked against him not going any further than his virgin’s body was ready for. Incrementally, Hongjoong began to relax beneath him. Only when almost all resistance was gone did he begin to enter him. Jesus, so hot, so tight. As he hilted himself he let out a sigh and for a lingering moment, he just held still, “Are you alright?”

Hongjoong nodded, “Yes.”

While the slow entry had spared him any discomfort, it had driven him slowly insane so that now he would have killed any man who dared to try to separate them. “Now fuck me.”

Seonghwa’s tongue flicked out to lap at Hongjoong’s lips before he languidly and fluidly began to move. “As you command.”

With little rolling lifts of his hips, Hongjoong rose to meet each and every thrust. His lover’s cock stimulated something deep inside of him, driving him nearly wild. They moved together, their pace increasing with a shared urgency.

Hongjoong’s fingers dug into Seonghwa’s back, leaving small crescent indentations. His balls tightened as molten sugar unwound in his stomach, slowly reaching its burning tendrils through him. The first spasm forced him to slam his head back into the pillow, the second brought a cry as his cum shot up between their joined bodies. Seonghwa’s arms sealed around him as he began to fuck him with ferocity. Each thrust brought a deep guttural growl, his cock swelled, balls tightened, and then he came, filling his lover with wave after wave of his seed.

For a lingering moment, they lay still, both lost in their own little world of pleasure. Seonghwa was the first to move, turning his head to pepper Hongjoong’s neck and ear with little kisses. Eventually, he sighed and rolled off to the side, grabbing a pillow and tucking it behind his head as he pulled Hongjoong into his arms. Hongjoong took a deep breath and let it out in a rush as he laid his head on the pillow beside Seonghwa.

“I think,” Hongjoong began as he adjusted himself in the bed. “I’m glad this all happened. Sure I had to spend a few days in a jail cell but I got you.”

Seonghwa chuckled and let his eyes fall shut. He hadn’t realized exactly how stressed he had been, not until he felt the last of that stress flow out of him with his orgasm. “My new captain is making me feel quite welcome indeed.”

“Are you sure you can do it?” Hongjoong lifted his head and looked at Seonghwa seriously.

“Do what?” He reached up and ran his long, slender fingers over Hongjoong’s sweaty hair and face.

“Piracy.” While he had no doubts that Seonghwa would stay with him if he asked him to, he wanted to make sure that it was actually something that he wanted. He was equally sure he had the other man’s affections but was this life really what he wanted or had he allowed himself to be swept away.

Seonghwa bit the corner of his bottom lip thoughtfully, “I don’t know, really. I never thought I would become a pirate. I also never thought I’d help a fugitive escape jail and a hanging and then steal my ship.”

“Take some time and think it over.” Hongjoong sighed and laid back down. “It’s late and being in a comfortable bed reminds me of how little sleep I’ve had the last few days. It’s late, what say you we get some sleep?”

“Alright.” Seonghwa hadn’t really been giving any thought to his predicament. He had, as Hongjoong thought, just allowed himself to be buoyed along. Now that he had time to think about it, would he be able to do it? He wasn’t a fighter, he never had been and had only fought when his life had deemed it necessary and that wasn’t more than a couple of times. What would it do to his family? He was quite close with his family and he didn’t want to hurt them.

There was another matter, he was quite sure he was falling in love with Hongjoong at breakneck speed. If he were to stay with him, he would hurt his family and perhaps shorten his life. If he were to leave then… then he would break his heart? He wanted nothing more than to give into his heart but what should he do? It was the same thoughts chasing each other around his brain until he finally fell asleep in the small hours of the morning.

He awoke early as he felt Hongjoong slipping out of his arms. He opened his tired eyes to see the other man smiling down at him before brushing a kiss across his lips and whispering, “Go back to sleep, you deserve it.”

Seonghwa didn’t argue. His eyes were already closed before Hongjoong’s feet hit the floor and he was already returning to slumber before he reached the door.

Yunho gave him a look as he sat down at the officer’s table, a knowing smile on his lips.

“What?” Hongjoong asked the younger man.

“Me? I didn’t say a word.”

It was obvious from the expressions on the faces of the assembled men that the entire crew probably knew but none of them seemed inclined to ask the questions. Silent smirks and two looks of feigned innocence, one from San and the other from Mingi, were all Hongjoong received as he looked down the table.

“So!” Jongho broke the silence, “What position is our new crewman going to have? Yunho is the first mate, that’s not to say you couldn’t have two first mates… I think I heard Park Seonghwa was supposed to be captain of this ship?”

Hongjoong’s own smile faded a little at that. He wanted Seonghwa to stay but he wasn’t sure he should. Most of the men under his command had come to him from other pirate vessels or had their own situations that made serving with him ideal. Seonghwa’s situation was quite different and as much as he wanted to keep him with him, he wasn’t sure it was best for him. The thought of letting him go twisted his heart into knots. He had never been in love before but he was getting dangerously close to loving Park Seonghwa. Maybe he already did, it was hard to say never having felt this way before. Sure he had slacked his lusts but love? Never.

“What new crewman?” Mingi asked.

All of the heads at the table turned to look at him.

“The new crewman who came aboard with the captain last night.” Wooyoung answered.

“I didn’t see him. Where is he now?” Mingi asked for more information.

Yunho dropped his head into his hand and Wooyoung’s grin grew a little wider as he decided to answer again, “I imagine he’s still in the captain’s quarters.”

Yunho peeked up at Mingi through his fingers as if to beg him with his eyes alone to cease his line of questioning before it got uncomfortable.

Mingi started to open his mouth when he yelped in pain. He was seated at the end of the table between Yeosang and Wooyoung. He shot a look at Yeosang who was an expert at looking like a beautiful serene statue. Whatever he had done, his expression hadn’t changed but Mingi seemed to get the hint. He reached under the table and rubbed at his leg.

Hongjoong shook his head, “We can decide that, if he decides to stay. I’m not sure he will yet.”

“Why wouldn’t he stay?” San asked curiously.

“I’m not sure he’s cut out for the pirate’s life. He’s got a good family, a good job if he wants it.” Hongjoong shrugged and reached for his breakfast.

San straightened his spine as he said, “We’ve got the best family.”

All of the men hurrahed at that and breakfast settled down into something more normal… and boisterous.

The next three weeks were like a dream for Seonghwa. He sailed with the men of the Treasure, spent his days working beside them, spent his nights with the man he had come to love but there was a growing unease. He knew that Hongjoong was avoiding other ships but he was a pirate and he couldn’t avoid other ships forever. The men were looking forward to their next great haul. Hongjoong was not just a pirate but a successful one and the day they rather accidentally ran into some low hanging fruit was the day he knew.

Seonghwa stood outside the door listening as he heard Yunho and Hongjoong arguing about the validity of the target, a poorly defended merchantman carrying fewer than 8 guns. He knew Hongjoong was avoiding getting into any scrapes to protect him, he couldn’t let him keep doing it. A very angry looking Yunho stormed out of the captain’s room and he went in. “You should take it.”

Hongjoong didn’t look up from the map he was looking at, “Why’s that?”

“Because the only reason you haven’t already gone for it is because of me. The men are restless as it is. You can’t keep avoiding it because you think I can’t take it. This is, as much as we might like to have it otherwise, a pirate’s ship and you are a pirate. If I’m to stay with you, I have to learn to live with this part of life. If I can’t do it then…” Seonghwa let his words trail off, a knot forming in his throat.

Hongjoong finally looked up and met Seonghwa’s eyes and sighed. He was determined. Hongjoong was silent for a long moment before he nodded and walked over to Seonghwa and kissed him. “Alright, tell the men.”

Seonghwa clung to Hongjoong for a lingering moment before he turned and briskly walked out of the cabin. The next few minutes were an absolute whirlwind of activity. All of the usual silliness, chaos and levity were gone and they became a force of nature. They were focused and deadly accurate. They carried out the strike perfectly. Seonghwa watched with a semi-detached air. Could he do this? The first thing that hit him was the thrill, the exhilaration but he wasn’t sure.

The two ships collided. The men from the Treasure poured onto the decks of other ship. Blades clashed and the men of the Treasure worked as a well oil machine. Hongjoong found their captain readily, he was old but still defiant as they crossed blades. What he lacked in youth, he made up for in sheer bloody mindedness. He concentrated as he fought the captain, there wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t tell you his next move if you were attentive.

There! Hongjoong feinted to the left as his opponent made a move to block but he left himself open. He struck, bringing him down. Just as he struck he heard a voice yell, “No!”

The rapport of a pistol shot rang out across the deck and momentarily all fell silent. Directly behind Hongjoong, a man lay supine. He had been just inches away from burying his blade in the pirate captain’s back. Seonghwa stood with perfect form, holding his pistol, smoke wafting up from the tip.

Seonghwa had just saved Hongjoong’s life.

The men were elated with the booty they had looted, it was far more than anyone expected. The casks were opened and the alcohol poured freely as the men rejoiced.

Seonghwa sat silently in the captain’s quarters in the dark. He hadn’t even realized that the sun had set, so deeply lost in thought was he. It wasn’t the first time he had killed a man and he had done it in defense of another. He didn’t feel badly about it and that was what bothered him. The captain had been the only man who had died today but he wouldn’t be the last. Every single man of the Treasure would fight to the last to protect one another and their way of life. They loved it, they thrived on it. He too had felt the touch of exhilaration, the rush of blood in his veins. The only thing that came close was making love with Hongjoong.

He knew he could do it. He knew he would grow to love it if he stayed. That was what scared him.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

A voice yanked him from his quiet reverie. “Oh, yes.”

“We’re headed in, we should make port in about eight days.”

“Eight days? I didn’t think we were that far from shore.”

“We aren’t but I thought it might be nice for you to go home, see your family.” Hongjoong didn’t put on a lamp, but just walked over to stand behind Seonghwa’s chair, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“I see.”

The silence was thick and heavy between them but neither seemed inclined to break it.

“How did you know?” Seonghwa asked at long last.

“One of the things I love best about you is your tender heart. What kind of man would I be if I destroyed the one of the things that I loved best about you?” Hongjoong’s voice was barely above a whisper but it carried in the darkened space.

“Promise me something.” Seonghwa said as he turned to look up at the moonlight kissed visage of the man he loved.

Hongjoong cocked his head slightly to one side, reaching to run his fingers over Seonghwa’s hair, “What’s that?”

“Promise me that if you ever decide to retire from piracy that you’ll come find me.”

Hongjoong smiled and drew a slow breath, “I will come find you.”

“Bring the rest of the crew too, we always need more hands.”

“You’re part of the crew. They’ve grown as fond of you as I have.”

“Have they really?”

“Well, maybe not quite as fond as I have.” Hongjoong turned his head and pressed a kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek.

Seonghwa closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth of that small kiss. Eight days…

***

Seonghwa stood on the cliff by his family home looking out toward the sea. It had been three years to the day since he had said farewell to the crew of the Treasure and its exceptional captain. He hadn’t really known whether he would see Hongjoong again and he regretted his choice everyday. Now with three years between him and the roguish captain’s smile, he could see clearly. Life only gives you chances at real love maybe once if you’re lucky.

He had his chance and he had surrendered it because he was afraid of change, because he was afraid of the lifestyle. He had been wrong and now there was no way to go back and change it.

Hot tears trickled down his cold cheeks and he sniffed before reaching up to wipe them away. He knew now he would never see Hongjoong again and he had to live with that, as much as it hurt him everyday.

“Can’t you find him?”

Seonghwa turned and saw his mother standing behind him. She was the only one he had ever told the truth about his ‘accidental kidnapping’. The only one he had ever told the truth about the only love he would ever have. Not entirely trusting himself to speak, he shook his head before looking back at the sea.

“You don’t have to go through with this you know. I know your father is pressuring you and Soojin is a nice girl but…” His mother sighed. The wedding was in two days and she had tried to talk Seonghwa’s father out of it but he didn’t see the problem. Seonghwa was a good looking, polite boy from a good family. Soojin was a good looking, polite girl from a good family. They made for a good match and they seemed to like each other as friends at least. It was as good of a start for a marriage as any, so her husband thought. It was better than the beginnings of most marriages these days. She understood his reasoning but he hadn’t been the one to hold Seonghwa as he cried his heart out as he explained what happened.

She knew it wasn’t as if you could just post a letter to a pirate. If she could see his broken heart mended, she would go find this pirate herself and send her son to him but she didn’t know any better how to find a man who was constantly on the move and didn’t want to be found any better than her son did.

“Come on, let’s go inside. You’ll catch a cold and you don’t want to catch a cold right before your wedding.” She caught Seonghwa’s hand and he gave one last lingering look at the horizon before turning to dutifully follow after his mother.

“Why don’t you go down to the market and buy some of those buns you and I both love?” His mother suggested to take his mind off of things.

“Why don’t you come with me, mother.”

“Your father will be home soon, I wanted to talk to him when he gets home.”

“You’re going to try to talk him out of the wedding again aren’t you?” he asked with a sad smile.

“I’ll talk to him about what I’ll talk to him about. If it was for your ears, I would ask you to be there. Now shoo.” She swatted his behind lightly and bodily shoved him off toward the market while she stood watching him go.

The market was bustling, he had to squeeze his way between bodies to make his way to the vendor he was looking for. Someone bumped into him without apologizing or even slowing down. They hit him hard too. He turned and caught a glimpse of a familiar face, Choi Jongho? No, it couldn’t possibly be. He turned and tried to follow after the man, trying to push through the throngs of people who were all trying to go in the opposite direction. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make any leeway. He finally caught a pocket of space and managed to break through. He raced after the man he thought he had seen and caught up to someone wearing a jacket the same color as who he thought he had seen. The man turned and it wasn’t him.

Of course it wouldn’t be.

It was all he could do to keep from breaking down there in the middle of the market. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He turned around and made his way back to the vendor who was selling the buns he had been sent to buy. He wasn’t hungry anymore but his mother wanted them. The entire way home, he scanned the faces of the crowds of people around him. Surely who he had seen had just had a resemblance to his old friend.

He realized how much he missed them then, not just the love of his life but the entire crew. He had grown close to them all and it felt just as much home to him as the place where he had grown up.

What a fool he had been.

The entire next day, he moved through a haze. It didn’t feel like he was going to get married. He liked Soojin, she was a nice girl but she never could or would be the one he loved. Yet he would do what his father wanted him to. Maybe she could help him find some kind of, if not happiness then contentment.

His wedding day dawned bright and early. The families had planned the wedding for the late morning. He honestly hadn’t been too bothered by it one way or another. Actually, he hadn’t really cared about any of the wedding arrangements and only nominally cared about the choice of the bride. He checked the time and got dressed. He was just checking the mirror before heading out when a sound caught his attention. It sounded like someone saying, “Sorry about this.”

Just as he started to turn, there was a sharp and sudden pain behind his left ear and consciousness faded. The last thing he saw was the ground rushing up to greet him.

When he opened his eyes, it was dark but the room was warmly lit with lamp light and candlelight. At first, he had no idea where he was. There was something familiar though, a scent, old paper, candle wax, the tang of the sea. No. He had to be dreaming there was no way.

“How’s your head?”

Very slowly, he turned to see Hongjoong sitting beside him. His jaw slowly dropped open and he stared open mouthed at the very man he had been dreaming of for the past three years. “Hongjoong?”

“I’m glad you remember me. I would be heartbroken to think we had gone to all of this trouble and you didn’t even remember me.”

“Like I could ever forget you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Hongjoong smiled and put down the book he had been reading.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“You kidnapped me!” Seonghwa accused.

“Well, technically I didn’t do it. San, Jongho, and Yeosang kidnapped you but I did ask them to and I was in on the planning. I was on the distraction team, I didn’t think I could hit you.” He reached out and gingerly brushed his fingers over Seonghwa’s hair.

“Why did you kidnap me?” Seonghwa asked, wholly bemused.

“When I found out you were getting married, I wasn’t sure that you would walk away from it. You know I can be a little impetuous sometimes and I’ll be honest, I was a little hurt.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. It’s been three years…”

Hongjoong winced, “I know but I wanted to be sure that I was the man I wanted you to come back to… and I love you.”

“Hongjoong…”

“I’ll be completely honest, I was so hurt I was ready to walk away and let you get married. Wooyoung was the one who decided we needed to kidnap you, for your own good. If you want to go back then we can take you back. If you want to stay-”

“I want to stay. I know I was wrong, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t regretted the choice I made. I missed you, every minute of every day. Every night I would lay in my bed wishing I could turn back the clock to make my choice again. If I could have, I would have never walked off of this boat.”

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong asked leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything. I want to be here. I want to be with you. I want … I want the ocean, I want to sail the world beside you. I want to be part of this family.”

A slow smile curved Hongjoong’s lips and he blinked his eyes, overbright with unshed emotion. “How dare you try to make me cry.”

“I’m not trying to make you cry.” Seonghwa said innocently.

“I know, that makes it worse.” Hongjoong drew a shaky breath and reached out for Seonghwa’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being on my side, for wanting to be with me.” He leaned in, their noses almost touching.

Seonghwa squeezed Hongjoong’s small hand in his, he leaned further, closing the distance between them, sealing Hongjoong’s lips with his. God how he missed the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him. He tasted tears, he wasn’t sure to whom the tears belonged but he didn’t want to stop kissing him, not ever.

“This is only the beginning,” whispered Hongjoong against Seonghwa’s lips.

Seonghwa smiled, his eyes still closed. “Here’s to our beginning.”

Again their lips came together, Seonghwa reaching up, his fingers slipping into Hongjoong’s wild locks, pulling him closer. Hongjoong rose and climbed into the bed beside his lover.

“I missed you so much.” Hongjoong murmured into their kiss.

“I’ll never leave your side again.”

“You better not, I’ll just have to kidnap you back again.” he teased with a nip of Seonghwa’s lips.

“Who knows, I might start to like it.”

Their lips, their bodies, their destiny came together in joy and love.

NOTE: Other words can be found on my master list.

#ateez #ateez imagine #Ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #seongjoong #honghwa #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez smut and fluff #kpop smut #kpop imagine

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leilabeaux · 3 years

Text

In My Sights III

Masterlist | Two

Pairing: Ivar/ Fem Reader

Word Count: 3570

Warning: None? 7 years bad luck?

Summary: A meeting with two brothers from Vestfold takes Ivar off guard.

Author’s Note: Well, this part was a long time coming. That means I will have part four ready next year.

The dining room was sparsely occupied that early afternoon with women who lunch, businessmen on lunch breaks, and their quiet chatter. The Vine had long been considered a historical landmark in Kattegat and was formerly a struggling fine dining restaurant. It had only gained popularity with the upper class once Aslaug Lothbrok, a well-known Götaland socialite who was newly married and new to the city, started to make her presence there. Though it’s popularity faded over the years, it was still preferred by the old money elite. Mostly for the staff’s discretion rather than the food and ambience.

It was for that reason why the Lothbrok sons preferred the establishment for their business lunches. Extra care was also usually taken with a generous tip to the host to ensure no other guests would be seated next to their table but today it was turning out to be a waste of money as the hushed voices from their corner of the room began to grow.

Ivar drummed his fingers against the table as he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, glaring across at his three older brothers. Apparently, the idiots had forgotten the importance of discretion as they were busy bickering over why their associates called for today’s meeting. He hoped the clinking of his cup when he set it down roughly onto the saucer would disrupt their chattering but, to his annoyance, still they continued.

Leaning back in his chair, his left hand mindlessly traced the carved out dragon on his cane, last year’s birthday gift from his dear Uncle Floki, while he scrolled through the day’s news on his phone. One particular article detailed the resignation of a Mercia diplomat after the unexpected death of her eldest son, mentioning that authorities were looking for a red-headed female who was last seen with him for questioning.

Good luck finding her, Ivar thought to himself. He had given up all attempts at trying to find you or any information about you after a year upon your meeting. After coming up empty through hacked databases and facial recognitions, he concluded that you were virtually a ghost or at least knew very powerful people who worked hard to keep you hidden. All he could do was sit and wait until he heard from you again, hoping his right hand and the memories of your last tryst would keep him satisfied till then.

He felt his slacks tighten as he got lost in a memory of you trapped underneath him as he pounded into your sweet cunt. The whines of you begging him to make you come he heard in his head were interrupted when Ubbe pounded his fist on the table, causing the glassware to shake.

“For fuck’s safe, Ivar, get off your fucking phone!” His older brother harshly whispered, checking over his shoulder at the other patrons, finally aware of the scene they were making.

“And why would I do that, dear brother?” Ivar still had his eyes turned down to his phone as he sent you the link of the article and a brief message: You’re on their radar. I wonder what you’re willing to do to make sure I don’t turn you in. Throwing his phone on the table, he raised an eyebrow as he bestowed Ubbe with his undivided attention. “So I can join you fools in biting our fingernails, worrying why they called for a meeting at the last minute?”

“They” were two brothers from Vestfold, owners of a large fishing company based out of their hometown and, most recently, out of Kattegat as well. To the public eye, it was assumed that it was hard work, determination, and a wise investment from Ivar’s father that turned the once struggling business into a multi million dollar success. But the young men currently seated at the table knew that the wise investment was generous compensation throughout the years for hauling more than just fish on their boats. Whether it was guns, stolen art and, for a very brief moment in time, opiates, Halfdan and Harald provided safe transport for anything the Lothbroks were running.

“You're not the least bit worried? What if they’re wanting to pull out of our deal? The Rus are not going to be pleased if we’re not able to deliver their shipment.” Ubbe wrung his hands as he thought of the worst. He was not looking forward to telling the Rus leader of any potential delays. The man wasn’t the most level headed or understanding and honestly, he creeped him out a bit.

Hvitserk nodded his head in agreement. “They might be. Remember, they were wanting a cut of our profits the last time we met with them but Ivar thought it wasn’t a good idea…” He pursed his lips in disapproval before cutting his eyes toward the youngest Lothbrok.

If Ivar had rolled his eyes any harder, he would have given himself a headache. “They’ve been doing the same job for our family for nearly twenty years, nothing more and nothing less, and have been paid fairly for it. Maybe a little too much in my opinion but I will honor our father’s wishes. Still they have no business being greedy. If it wasn’t for the Lothbroks, they would still be hauling fish into a sinking dinghy.”

“There are probably others who are looking for a way to transport their shit and all they need is a smug asshole like Harald to offer his services.” Hvitserk swirled his drink in his glass, taking a sip before continuing. “I think we should give them at least half of what they were wanting.”

Ivar gave an aggravated sigh and was ready to shoot down what he thought was the stupidest thing to come out of his brother’s mouth.

“I don’t know, I think Ivar’s right.” Sigurd chimed in. “They should be grateful for all our father did for them, not bite the hand that feeds them.”

The other men at the table sat in silence as they stared at him in confusion. It was thought that Sigurd would rather eat a bullet than agree with anything Ivar had to say.

“I changed my mind. Give them everything they ask for.” Ivar had joked, he would never admit out loud or to himself that he appreciated his least favorite brother taking his side. Officially done with the conversation, he picked his phone back up. He held back his smile as he read the new message: Anything you want me to do, handsome. But first, you’d have to find me.

Ubbe looked up from behind his nerve-wracked hands toward the lobby and gave a sigh. “Thank gods, they’re finally here...and of course he brought his fucking girlfriend. To our illegal business lunch meeting. Great.”

Hvitserk gave a quick and quiet wolf whistle as his eyes studied the woman on Harald’s arm, from head to toe. “Is that the same one he brought to your birthday party? Didn’t she have different hair and was a bit taller?”

“How can you not tell? I thought you fucked her while cake was being served?” Sigurd questioned.

“All I remember was the back of her head, to be honest.”

Ivar couldn’t hold back the snort at Hvitserk’s comment. Whatever smart ass response that was about to come out died on his tongue as he looked up at the woman that was being led to them. This was definitely a new girlfriend because if you were the one Hvitserk had fucked in the coat check room, he was going to have one less brother.

As always you looked like perfection to him but he knew your presence, or rather your outfit, was causing a bit of a stir in the restaurant especially among the older women who were busy clutching their pearls. From the plunging neckline of the loose dark green silk shirt to the matching miniskirt with a side-slit it was tucked into, your ensemble was far from the acceptable dress code of the Vine but the host knew better than telling Ivar and his brothers that their guest would have to leave, no matter how many complaints he’d get from the other patrons.

“Can you two shut the fuck up before he hears you?” Ubbe scolded Hvitserk and Sigurd before standing up to greet their guests. Shaking Halfdan’s hand before moving onto Harald, “Gentleman, I’m glad you could finally join us.”

Halfdan gave a frustrated sigh as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and plopped himself down on an empty seat. “Believe me, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh come on, brother. We didn’t keep you waiting that long.” Harald slapped a hand on his shoulder before parading the young woman on his arm. “Boys, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend Veronica.”

Ivar instantly wished he had ordered something stronger than coffee. He didn’t want to believe for a moment that you would choose to be with someone like Harald but you did warn him before that he hardly knew you.

In his opinion, the Fishmonger wasn’t much to be desired. And if it was money you were after, Ivar’s funds could have kept your excessive shopping addiction quelled more than the mere pennies the other man had. He knew he could satisfy you in that way and others.

Patiently sitting back in his chair, he watched as you politely smiled while you shook hands with each of his brothers. Hvitserk was unaware how close he was to a dinner knife to his thigh after lingering a second too long while kissing the back of your hand. Fortunately, Harald had the good sense to pull you away.

Ivar balanced his weight on his cane as he stood up to introduce himself, taking a risk and gently caressing his thumb against your hand. “Lovely to meet you, Veronica.”

Although you said nothing back, he didn’t miss the small smirk that briefly graced your face letting your alleged boyfriend lead you to your seat.

“I hope you boys don’t mind her being here. I know we try to keep these meetings to ourselves but I’ve been a little busy and this beautiful thing has been missing me.” He kissed the back of your hand, causing you to giggle. “Didn’t even want to take my card and go on a shopping spree.”

“I swear you won’t even hear a peep from me.” You promised, miming zipping your lips closed while you took a seat across from Ivar. “Harry’s shop talk ends up sounding more like gibberish to me anyway!”

Ivar had to focus to not show his confusion when he heard you speak. The words coming out of your mouth sounded as if they were dipped in saccharine and nowhere near the lower sultry tone he was used to. He hoped to himself that you would stay true to your promise and remain silent.

Unfortunately, promises meant nothing to his brothers.

“So what do you do for a living, Veronica?” Sigurd asked while cutting into his beef tenderloin.

You gave him a closed smile, dabbing the corners of your mouth with your napkin as you swallowed your last bite. “Oh my goodness! Nothing as important as what you gents do! I worked in this cute little boutique over in Vestfold before Harry whisked me away!”

“Wow, you must have made a killing in commissions.” Ivar couldn’t resist this opportunity to make you sweat, if that was even possible.

He was sure that hint of confusion on your face seemed authentic to everyone else. “No? Actually, I worked hourly...”

You were cut off by an annoyed groan from Ubbe as he rubbed his face, the food on his plate was barely touched. “Harry...I mean Harald, why did you call this meeting?”

“You couldn’t wait a few more minutes until we were done eating? I’d expect mommy to have taught you some manners.” Harald sighed and tossed his napkin on the table before leaning back in his chair.

Ivar didn’t miss you curling your hand around your knife. The tension surrounding the table definitely wasn’t missed by you.

Before Ubbe could respond, Halfdan had cut into the conversation. “Look, we know the last meeting didn’t go well.”

“Actually, you shot one of our men in the head.” Hvitserk stated, staring at Harald as he made his point.

Halfdan quickly interjected, “One of our captains went rogue. Was convinced by some mysterious buyer to deliver your last load of weapons to them. Don’t worry, we took care of the problem”

The younger Lothbrok brother stayed silent while his brothers voiced out their displeasure. You took a sip from your glass, your eyes cutting back and forth to the men surrounding you.

“Oh, did you?” Ubbe questioned incredulously. “Because there shouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Yes, we did.” Harald finally broke his silence with an emphasis on every word. “The man liked a good drink...a little too much. It was unfortunately only a matter of time until he drunkenly stumbled off his boat. I’m sure the medical examiner we paid off would attest that it was accidental drowning. As for the guns, they’re on another boat with a crew we know we can trust.”

“The buyer? Do you think it was the Saxons?” Sigurd suggested to the table.

“No, they thrive on letting it be known when they screw us over. I suspect they either are or know someone close. In either our circle or yours. I just hope our actions show that we are loyal and can be trusted.” Harald regarded that last statement to Ivar, knowing his silence throughout the exchange meant he was the one he had to win over.

The young man grinned as he sat back in his seat “You know, before you got here, my brothers were saying they didn’t think you deserved any part of our profits but I personally think a five percent cut of every successful shipment is reasonable.”

A smirk slowly spread against Harald’s face. “I think that sounds very reasonable.”

----

Ivar slowly made his way to the front of the restaurant. The remainder of lunch was uneventful other than the mindless chatter of Hvitserk and Sigurd asking you 20 questions. Ubbe promptly left after taking care of the bill and with so few words.

He rolled his eyes in disgust as he watched Harald wrap his arms around you, not even trying to be modest as his hands grabbed your ass. He had to fight the urge to not cut the man’s hands off for touching something that belonged to him.

You squealed and playfully swatted his chest. You gave a quick glance at Ivar as he slowly approached. “Baby, I’ll meet you outside. I just need to touch up my lipstick real quick.”

“Okay, lovely. Don’t be too long, we have a plane waiting on us.” He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before letting you go. He walked out of the restaurant, not even noticing that Ivar was close by.

Your heels clicked on the marble floor and you peeked over your shoulder toward Ivar, giving him a small grin before you made a quick turn into the washroom.

Ivar looked around to make sure there were no eyes on him as he made his way in the same direction as you. He didn’t expect his brothers to worry too much about him. He would’ve been surprised if one of them had waited for him especially since he took his own personal town car to the restaurant.

Before he could even walk through the door, you yanked him in by his tie then pushed him against the adjacent wall. He barely had time to react when he felt your lips against his own. He wrapped his arm around your waist and groaned when your hand tugged down on his locks.

Usually you enjoyed taking your time kissing him, teasing with a soft touch of your hand at the back of his neck, savoring every small whine he made when you nipped on his bottom lip. But today was different as you rushed to deepen the kiss. Both of you knew that if you were gone too long, Harald would come hunting for you.

When you broke away from him, you looked into his eyes, stifling a soft giggle. “Hi there, handsome.” You teased, your voice finally back to normal.

“Gods, that voice you were putting on was annoying.”

“I don’t know. Harald seems okay with it.” You pushed yourself away from him, walking over to the sink and pulled out a tube of lipstick from your clutch.

Ivar stayed put against the wall, watching as you leaned over the sink to look yourself in the mirror.

He repeatedly tapped his cane on the tile, “Is he why you said no?”

“Said no to what?” You stayed focused on reapplying the red color on your lips. You couldn’t help but laugh when you looked up and saw the annoyed look Ivar was giving you.

You smooth a finger around your lips, cleaning up any smudges. “I’m not his girlfriend, Ivar. He thinks I’m the very expensive call girl he hired to keep him company over the weekend. Just your basic girlfriend experience.” You dropped the lipstick back into your clutch before closing it with a snap.

“Your client wants him taken care of?” He walked over and propped his hip against the counter next to you. “That would save me some money in the long run. One less brother to pay.”

“No…” You looked down at the porcelain instead of looking him in the eyes. “I’m just collecting information on him by any means necessary.”

“Any means necessary?” While Ivar usually admired your dedication to committing to your undercover work, he found himself not liking the idea of you following through on this one. “Y/N, please tell me there’s a target on his head.”

You quickly glanced up at him through the mirror before turning to lean against the counter. You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “At the moment, no.”

“Goddammit, Y/N” Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose. Though the thought of someone else hands over your body aggravated him, the idea of another man inside of you incited him. “Are you going to fuck him? Have you fucked him?”

“Ivar…you and your brothers were waiting for a reason. It would have been suspicious if the hooker refused to fuck him.” You stated as if that was a reasonable explanation.

“How much is your client paying you? I’ll double it—fuck it, I’ll triple it if you just walk away now.”

“No one is paying me. I’m on my boss’s orders.”

“And who do you work for again?”

“Tsk, tsk. You already know that if I told you, I’d have to kill you and I don’t want to have to mess up that pretty face. Again.” Pressing up against him, you gently brushed your thumb over the faint scar that went across his cheek. A sweet parting gift from one of your earlier encounters with him.

“Tell me what information you need and I’ll get it for you.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “Just...just don’t go with him.”

You cradled his face in your hands. For a brief moment, there was a look that Ivar had seen on your face before, a mixture of pity and sadness. You shook your head then pressed a gentle kiss on his lips before you walked away from him.

“Please don’t hate me, handsome.” Through the wall length mirror ahead of him, he saw you turn to face him after pausing at the closed door. “You can be mad and you can curse at me until we’re old and grey. Shit, you could even throw another knife at me but I think it would hurt me more if you hated me.”

You waited a moment for him to say or do anything, but when all you got was silence, you walked out of the door.

Ivar took a deep inhale to try to calm the anger that was beginning to flow through his body. He turned toward the mirror, his knuckles going white as he grabbed onto the edge of the sink. No care when his cane falls to the ground with a resounding smack.

When he was younger, he had got into some trouble after he hit a classmate with a rock. The therapist his Uncle Floki took him to after the incident told him to try counting to ten whenever he saw red.

He closed his eyes, letting out an exhale at every count in his head.

On five, he could see you.

Six, Harald slowly walking up behind you.

Seven, him taking you into his arms.

Eight, his tongue sliding up your neck.

Nine, his hand trailing down to your center.

Ten, you softly moaning out Harald’s name.

Ivar screamed out in rage and punched the mirror. He didn’t even notice the pain in his fist until his breathing evened out. He straightened out his tie the best he could with the distorted reflection in front of him. Flexing his injured hand, he reached over and grabbed one of the towels laid out on the counter, wrapping his hand in it.

If Harald didn’t have a target on his head before, he fucking did now.

——

Tags: @xbellaxcarolinax @castielsangelsx @revolution-starter @momowhoo @peachyboneless @punkrocknpearls

@love-all-things-writing @peoniesandbooks5 @spotgaai2000 @walkxthexmoon @youbloodymadgenius @trip2themoon @zo3st3rmonro3

#vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless au #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x femreader #alex høgh andersen x fem reader #alex høgh andersen x reader

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potrix-the-queerschlaeger · 3 years

Text

too fast for love

Technically a sequel to this and this, but can totally be read as a sexy-fluffy standalone. And it’s also over on AO3.

- - -

It became a ritual after Sam returned home from Afghanistan, filled with overwhelming misery and crippling grief, and too jittery with the pressure of it most days to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. AJ and Cass had been so young, back then, a teething toddler who barely remembered his uncle, and a baby small enough that Sam had constantly been afraid of accidentally squishing him, somehow.

Which hadn’t stopped Sarah from pushing them into his arms with a cheery, “How about some time with Uncle Sammy, boys?” and absolutely no regard for Sam’s fumbling and sputtering.

He’d resented her for it, at times. For having the boys, and someone to raise them with, while Sam hadn’t even been able to bring Riley home to bury him. For making him be part of her happy little family, for engaging him and involving him in their daily lives. And even for being stronger than him, later on, for not falling apart completely, when Caleb had had the accident and made her a widow.

It still fills him with shame and guilt, even today, to think about those months. Because Sam knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if it hadn’t been for his sister, he wouldn’t be here today.

He would have given up.

But Sarah hadn’t let him. She’d always been the more stubborn one, out of the two of them.

(Watch out for the break!)

And so Sam had gone out on the boat with Caleb, had helped out at the restaurant, and had looked after the boys for them. He’d changed poopy diapers, endured tantrums, argued with a sassy two-year-old, and had realised, eventually, how much he loved it.

Loved it, and needed it.

Evenings had always been his favourite. He’d been perpetually exhausted those days, awake most nights to avoid the nightmares he knew would find him if he closed his eyes, and it had always been the worst during the evenings, when things started to calm down and settle. And the boys, however young they’d been, must have felt it, too, because in the evenings, they were content to curl up with Sam on the couch, watching him with big, curious eyes while Sam read to them.

And, somehow, they’d just never stopped.

They’re too old to want to be tucked in by their uncle every night, now, but whenever Sam’s home for a stretch of time, they’ll eventually fall back into their comfortable, practiced routine. The books have changed, from ones with few words and colourful pictures to novels about pirates and treasures, but they still sprawl all over Sam with their pointy elbows, bickering over the best spot until Sam makes them shriek with laughter by threatening to dump them on the floor.

Sam is simultaneously surprised, and not surprised at all, by how seamlessly Bucky fits into all of it. As if there had always been this space, reserved and waiting just for him, ready to be filled with snarky remarks and soft, eye-crinkling smiles alike.

He’s leaning in the doorway of the boys’ room, watching them puzzle over their newest Lego set with Bucky. It looks like it’s got about a million tiny little pieces he will undoubtedly step on at some point, and Sam’s honestly kind of relieved that Bucky seems to be genuinely enjoying the whole building process, because he’s not sure he’d have the patience for it.

Cass is still sorting pieces into piles, despite his drooping eyes, but AJ is mostly leaning against Buck, yawning every so often as he squints down at the instructions. They’d insisted they wanted Bucky, tonight, high-fiving and grinning at each other when Sarah had given them the okay, nearly tripping over each other in their hurry to get upstairs and into their PJs.

“Looks like your stuck with the dishes, buddy,” Bucky had said, all fake sympathy, before he’d winked at Sam, and followed the boys with a shouted, “An’ don’t forget to brush your teeth!”

“Look at you, all smitten,” Sarah had teased, and only laughed at him when Sam had forced the undoubtedly sappy smile off his face to glare at her. “Now go grab a towel.”

AJ slumps a little more against Bucky, not even pretending to read anymore. Bucky strokes a hand over his head, and glances up at Sam, brows raised in question.

“All right, monsters,” Sam says, stepping into the room, “time for bed.”

The boys are tired enough that they don’t even put up much of a protest, crawling under the covers while Sam turns off the overhead light, and Bucky turns on the star projector. Bucky gets sleepy fistbumps from them both, then leaves Sam to say good night in peace.

AJ is already mostly asleep, only murmuring quietly when Sam kisses the top of his head, but Cass tugs at his sleeve until Sam perches on the edge of his bed. He pillows his head on Sam’s thigh with a happy little sigh, making Sam chuckle softly, and gently scratch his fingers through his hair until his breaths even out.

Bucky’s fresh out of the shower when Sam gets up to his attic bedroom, towel slung around his hips and hair still wet. He comes readily when Sam reaches for him, tucking himself against Sam, and humming contentedly when Sam runs his hands up and down his back.

“You’re good with them,” Sam tells him, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder, right over the connection between metal and flesh, “Uncle Bucky.”

Sam can feel Bucky smile against the side of his head. “They’re good kids,” he murmurs back, arms winding around Sam’s waist.

“I’m surprised they didn’t make you read to them, though,” Sam muses. He opens his mouth against Bucky’s neck, just to feel him shiver, and threads his fingers into the short hair at the back of his head. “Only a few chapters left in this one. They’ve been bugging me for two chapters most nights.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, pulling back. His face is open, eyes half-lidded, and mouth soft with a half-smile. “Readin’ with them, ‘s your thing.”

Sam marvels, sometimes, at just how good Bucky is at reading people. Sam never told him any of this, yet here Bucky is, knowing it anyway, and going out of his way to find his own special thing to do with the boys.

Being considerate. Being downright sweet.

It’s tempting, to say it right then. To tell Bucky. But it’s too soon for something so big, so important, so Sam swallows the words back down, and kisses Bucky instead.

Watching Bucky come undone beneath him is something Sam will absolutely never get tired of.

It’s intimate, a privilege, to be allowed to see Bucky like this, unguarded and trusting. There’s a watchfulness that’s been beaten into him, in the army and under HYDRA, that Bucky’s never quite been able to shake again. It’s most pronounced on missions, during fights, where Bucky’s unwavering awareness of their surroundings has saved both their asses on multiple occasions.

At home, here in Delacroix, he’s different. To most people, he probably looks relaxed, at ease, but Sam knows better. Sure, yeah, Bucky isn’t constantly on high alert, lets himself be a person instead of a soldier, but that doesn’t magically erase decades of training and torture that have become instinct.

And that instinct shows, in small ways, every day.

The neighbourhood adores Bucky, and Sam is unspeakably grateful to them for bringing him into the fold without questions or judgement, but whenever they’re delighted because Bucky remembers a birthday or some other special occasion, Sam worries. Because Bucky’s genuine with his well-wishes and kindness, but the reason he knows what he knows isn’t the town gossip or new friendships he’s struck up, it’s hours upon hours of research and observation to ensure there isn’t any sort of threat hiding out in plain sight.

There hasn’t been a single broken glass or plate in the house since Bucky’s been staying with them. He always knows exactly where the boys are, if they’re playing outside, and he’s got Sarah’s work schedule memorised down to the minute.

And at times, mostly after particularly bad nights, he can barely let Sam out of his sight.

Bucky has been without control over anything for so long, it’s become something he’s borderline obsessive about, now. They don’t talk about it much, but Sam knows Bucky’s working on it with his new therapist; on sitting back, on letting others be in charge, of themselves and of him, when it’s necessary.

On letting himself be taken care of.

“Sam,” Bucky says, voice hoarse, pulling Sam back out of his own head. “Sam, please.”

“Sorry, baby,” Sam murmurs, and leans down to brush a kiss over Bucky’s slack mouth. “I’m right here, I got you.”

He gives a shallow thrust of his hips that has Bucky moan softly, eyes fluttering, and brushes some of the sweaty hair away from Bucky’s forehead. He kisses the soft skin under Bucky’s left eye as he begins to move again, slow but steady, one hand cupping Bucky’s cheek, and the other trailing teasingly down his chest, lower and lower.

Bucky’s breath hitches when Sam’s hand curls around his straining cock, then he groans low in his throat when Sam starts stroking him in time with his thrusts.

“Ssh, baby, it’s okay.” Sam kisses his cheek, chuckling softly when Bucky turns his head with a whine, demanding more. “I got you, you’re okay. Let go for me, baby.”

He kisses Bucky, properly, and flicks his thumb over the head of Bucky’s cock the next time he pushes in. Bucky’s quiet as he comes, going tense for a long moment, fingers digging into Sam’s back, before he shudders all over, and melts back into the mattress.

“That’s it,” Sam praises, working him through it. “That’s it, baby, that’s perfect.”

He moves to sit back when Bucky’s cock starts to go soft in his hand, and takes a moment to just look, to appreciate. Bucky’s eyes are glassy and damp, his lips red and swollen. He’s got his arms stretched out loosely over his head, fingers twitching absently every now and again, and there’s evidence of his orgasm from his navel up to his chest, a few drops dangerously close to one pebbled nipple.

He looks obscene. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and Sam’s so fucking in love with this man, it’s unreal.

But he knows better than to say as much with his dick still hard inside Bucky, so he settles his hands on Bucky’s hips, and asks, “Okay?”

It takes Bucky a few seconds of blissed-out staring to respond, but then he nods, and rasps out, “Yeah, c’mon.”

Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. He tightens his grip, and starts thrusting again, faster now, chasing his own release. Bucky’s making the most beautiful sounds for him, breathless little ahs with each of Sam’s pushes, back arching, tongue dipping out to lick his bottom lip—

“Shit, Bucky,” Sam curses when he comes, collapsing forward, onto Bucky’s chest. He tucks his face into Bucky’s neck, panting, as Bucky wraps an arm around him, squeezing him. “Gonna kill me, one of these days.”

Bucky’s chuckling as he rolls them over, ignoring Sam’s half-hearted complaints, and lowers himself down to bring their mouths together. They make out unhurriedly, hands roaming lazily, until Sam has to pull away to yawn.

They’re sticky and gross, and Sam’s definitely going to bitch about it tomorrow, but he lets Bucky tug the covers up over them anyway. He grunts at the manhandling when Bucky rolls him over onto his side to spoon up behind him, but lets Bucky take his hand, and link their fingers together.

He falls asleep to the steady, familiar rhythm of Bucky’s breathing.

The temptation to dropkick the guy with the weird, glowy spear right off the roof is really fucking hard to ignore, what with Bucky’s blood still dripping from the thing’s tip. At least the guy looks suitably terrified as Sam stalks towards him, looking up at Sam with wide eyes as he clutches at the bullethole in his shoulder.

Because of course Bucky still manages to shoot someone while he’s in the process of falling off a goddamn three-story building.

Sam has to shake his head against the memory of the sound it had made, the sickening crunch, when Bucky’d hit the ground, of Bucky’s pain-filled scream in his ear right before the comms had gone quiet. He ignores whatever the guy is saying as he kicks away the spear and cuffs him, a little rougher about it than strictly necessary, and takes off as soon as the first SWORD chopper comes into view.

“Torres—”

“We’re in an ambulance, heading West,” Torres answers immediately, “they’re taking him to St Anna’s.”

Swooping higher, Sam finally spots the ambulance’s flashing lights in the distance. “I see you.”

Torres doesn’t say anything else, but he keeps the connection open for Sam. The medics don’t say much, too busy stabilising Bucky, but being able to hear them work—knowing that they’re not giving up on him—is the only thing keeping Sam sane right now.

People part for him like the Red Sea as he storms into the emergency room, and for once, he’s glad to be recognisable when a nurse approaches him with a nod, and a brisque, “Follow me, Captain.”

He’s led to an empty room and given a set of scrubs to change into, which he accepts gratefully. The nurse quirks an apologetic smile at him when he asks about Bucky.

“He’s in surgery right now,” the man, Alexei, tells him, voice full of sympathy. “His right lung was punctured, but at the moment, they’re more worried about potential spinal injuries. Sergeant Barnes was unresponsive when he arrived, but his vitals looked promising, given the circumstances.”

“That’s—okay, yeah.” Sam scrubs trembling hands over his face, taking a few deep breaths. “Thank you.”

Alexei inclines his head with another kind smile. “I’ll let you know the moment there are any new developments.”

Sam’s just changed into the scrubs when there’s a knock on the door, and Torres peeks his head in. He slips inside when he spots Sam, closing it quietly behind himself.

There’s blood all over him, from his neck down to his waist, but most of it on his arms and hands. He’s pale, and trembling, and Sam has pulled him into a tight, bruising hug before he’s even consciously aware of having crossed the room.

Torres grips him back just as hard for several long moments, before he steps back with a wet, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I tried to help, to stop the bleeding, but there was so much blood everywhere—”

“It’s not your fault, kid,” Sam cuts in, gentle but firm. He reaches out to squeeze Torres’ shoulders, giving him a little shake. “You hear me? You did everything you were supposed to do, Lieutenant.”

He sends Torres’ off to go clean up in the small ensuite while he goes to find another set of scrubs. While he’s at it, Sam detours to the first snack machine he sees, and buys the most sugary things he can find. He can feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, now that he’s not pumped full of adrenalin anymore, but he refuses to crash.

Not before he knows that Bucky’s okay.

They wait for what feels like hours, sitting next to each other on surprisingly comfortable chairs back in their room, snacking on their candy. Alexei comes by every so often, though he can’t tell them much. Torres’ nods off eventually, slumped against Sam’s side, but Sam stays awake, watching the door.

He still jumps when it finally opens, startling Torres awake as well. They both stand as Bucky is wheeled into the room, followed by a woman who must be the surgeon. She explains the procedure and Bucky’s injuries, but Sam’s brain shuts her out as soon as he hears that Bucky’s out of the woods.

It’s definitely rude, but Sam doesn’t currently have the mental capacity to care. All he can focus on is Bucky. Bucky’s ashen face, and the dark circles under his closed eyes. The coolness of his skin, when Sam takes his hand to press a lingering kiss to the back of it.

He doesn’t notice Alexei and the doctor leaving, or Torres moving closer. Not until Torres tentatively touches his side to guide him into one of the chairs he’s dragged over.

It’s early morning, Torres asleep on the floor this time, when Bucky’s fingers curl around Sam’s, holding on weakly. Sam lets himself cry, then.

“I love you,” he thinks, clutching Bucky’s hand like a lifeline. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Fuck, shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Sam swears as he sprints across the hall, the hardwood floor way too cold under his feet. “First thing we’re getting is a rug.”

It won’t technically be the first thing they buy, since they’ve already ordered some more furniture online, but it’s too early in the morning for semantics. The point is, the heat hasn’t been turned on yet in their new house, which hadn’t been as much of a problem last night with a human-shaped furnace under the covers with him, but seems like a pretty severe oversight right about now.

The noise Sam makes when an arm sneaks around him from behind, lifting him up and depositing him on a stool at the breakfast bar, definitely isn’t anywhere close to a squeak. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, man?”

Bucky drops a kiss on his shoulder before he moves back to the stove, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What, that’s the thanks I get for savin’ your poor feet from frostbite?”

“Well, thank you, honey,” Sam says sweetly, making sure his words are dripping with sarcasm, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Bucky puts a steaming plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. “Damn right, you wouldn’t,” he preens, waggling his eyebrows, and kisses Sam’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Sam says, a couple of minutes later, genuine this time. He lifts up a forkful of perfectly soft, cheesy eggs when Bucky raises a brow at him. “These are good.”

Bucky just smiles, and hooks his foot around Sam’s. But then the smile turns wider, suddenly, brighter, until he’s laughing quietly, and shaking his head.

“What?” Sam asks, and knocks their knees together when Bucky just keeps giggling, all excited and giddy. “Come on, Buck, what?”

“We got a house,” Bucky manages eventually, biting his lip, though his eyes are still crinkled happily. “Sam, we own a house. Together. For real.”

Warmth blooms in Sam’s chest at that, and he just has to reach out and grasp Bucky’s free hand. “Yeah,” he says, unable not to smile back. “Yeah, we do.”

“Fuckin’ right,” Bucky cheers, which has Sam laughing in turn. He stops abruptly, though, when the next words out of Bucky’s mouth are, “I love you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sam groans, and throws his hands up in the air. “Are you kidding me? For months I’ve been trying to find the right moment. The perfect moment. I was gonna make it romantic, woo the shit out of you. And you just—”

“Sam, sweetheart.” Bucky sounds amused, mostly, but there’s so much affection there as well, in the soft lines around his eyes, and the way he’s sweeping his metal thumb across the back of Sam’s hand, slow and steady. “I fuckin’ love you, you shithead. An’ I said it first, so, ya know. Deal with it.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” Sam says, without heat, even as he uses their joint hands to tug Bucky towards him across the bar. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“Yeah,” Bucky hums, leaning in close, “I really am. Now shut up, and kiss me, Samuel.”

And for once, Sam sees no reason to argue, and does just that.

#winterfalcon #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #pov sam wilson #light angst #fluff #smut #love confessions #myfics

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