Cutlass | Jeno x Reader | Completed

14

"How unmannered have you become over the mere months you were with those criminals?" he sneers, watching your handmaiden broom the shattered pieces of your mirror into a pile. "How rebellious will you continue to act?"
"Until my days of living come to an end," you mumble, purposely allowing your voice to carry over to his ears.
"That can be arranged if you are to continue with this behavior." Your father snarls in return. He eyes the ragged tears and fallen cloths of your dress, "Prepare yourself for guests this afternoon."
You make no indication of replying back to him, and instead watch the maid continue her endeavor of carefully picking up the glass. You glance down towards your hands, paying no mind to the scattered, shallow cuts that marked your skin. Upon ripping your dress, you had been careless when handling the sharp pieces and nicked yourself one too many times.
"Despicable." Your father mutters, shaking his head. "God knows how much I wanted a son, but instead, he's gifted me a devil-child and a wife who is incapable of producing anymore children." The maid finishes her duty and cautiously exits the room, your father following behind. He swiftly shuts the door and demands your attendance in the living room no later than one.
You fall onto your bed, gingerly bringing your thighs up and against your chest. You stifle a whimper against your clothed knees, squeezing your eyes shut. "Jeno, you selfish man."

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The living area felt stiff, and the silence was nearly deafening to be surrounded in. Your parents were intentionally leaving you out of their conversation as they went over the news of some politician's re-election. It wasn't as though you'd participate in it, anyway.
Your focus was on the grandfather clock that was stowed to the side of the room, watching its hands move at a steady pace, switching the time to 1:04.
"It is nothing but disrespectful to be this tardy," your father claims, also checking the time. "How do they expect us to allow their son to wed our only daughter if they are unable to maintain a proper sense of time?"
"Maybe the family had second thoughts, after finding out what kind of a man you are." You whisper, unaware that his attention shifted towards you.
"Dare you repeat yourself?" he threatened, rising from his seat to tower over your seated figure. His hand was raised, and you flinched at the action he was intending to do. "Your mouth is so smart, that it should easily find its way of repeating your words."
"Darling, please..." your mother calls out softly, trying to ease her husband outrage.
Your breathing hitches when his hand comes down, your cheek being its target. You involuntarily close your eyes, awaiting his impact. Yet, it never comes. Instead, the knocking of your visitors' is your saving grace, and you relax in your chair over the pardoning act.
"We will discuss another means of punishment once we establish this deal." Your father strides out of the room.
Your mother stands from her spot on the loveseat, and you hesitantly follow suit. You smoothen out the wrinkles in your dress - a soft, pink one was your mother's choice of today - and fold your hands over your waist, an act you've been taught all your life. You allowed yourself to ease your lips into a smile, preparing yourself for your visitors.
It was one thing to disrespect your father, but to do so in front of another gentleman could call for the Navy guards whisking you away to house for the mentally-illed. You had no choice but to act as refined as they fibbed you to be.
"Right this way, if you will." Your father is the first to enter the room, guiding the Nakamotos who were trailing behind him.
"Ah, is this the fine, young lady we've heard so much of?" The older gentleman questions, offering you a polite grin.
Your attention was not on him, but on his son instead. Your parents did not lie about their son's handsome features, you had to admit. But as much as you willed yourself not to think of it, he didn't compare to Jeno. No one ever could, you found yourself thinking. Your smile turns rueful due to the pang in your chest and you distract yourself by the introductions going around.
"I hope you have been relieved of your illness." Mr. Nakamoto says with concern.
"Yes, I apologize for the delay in our meetings because of this." You softly reply.
"It's well worth the wait," he nods, earning an agreement from his wife. He turns to your father, "Shall we discuss matters in another room?"
"Certainly." The smile on your father's face churns your stomach in an uncomfortable bellyache. It was so fake, you wondered how it was able to pass. "Yuta, please do us the honor of socializing with our daughter as we occupy ourselves in the dining room."
With that, the adults make a swift exit, leaving behind the two main attractions of the afternoon.
"Lady Y/N, was it?" Yuta asks, trying to start a conversation you were surely going to let die down soon enough. You simply smile in response. He sits down on the loveseat, motioning for you to do the same. "Please, sit with me, won't you?"
"Of course."
He leans back, fingers stroking against the pattern of the fabric. "You can drop the act, you know." You're surprised by his words but he offers a closed-lip smile in response. "I am no willing participant in this as much as you are."
"I apologize if my actions make you think this way." You respond.
"They don't. This is of my own avail. You're as lovely as they say, yes. But I cannot bring myself to marry a woman who is unwilling to do. I want a bride, not a prisoner."
You couldn't help but feel reassured by his words. You were hearing something that finally made sense around here, and it was from him, of all people.
"I'm able to call the engagement off, if you so much as wish it." He continues on, your interest reaching its peak. "But in exchange for something else, of course."
You should have known such a thing would come with a cost. "What would that be?"
"Your happiness."
"Huh?"
"You see, you are not the first woman my parents have dragged me out to be. The ones before you were in similar situations, not wanting to be whisked away by a stranger. I sympathize with you, understanding how wronged you must be for such a thing to be beared upon your shoulders with no say to the matter."
You're lost for words, unable to comprehend that such a thing was happening. You wondered if you actually woke up this morning, or if you were trapped in a cruel dream.
"Yuta, I-"
Your sentence halts when another round of knocking echoes throughout the house. From your knowledge, there wasn't any other guests who were to come by other than the Nakamoto's. Maybe a relative or peer of theirs?
You step out into the hallway, curiously looking towards the main entrance as your father's head servant opens the door. You're thrown into disbelief and your breathing halts as the door reveals the unexpected visitor.
"Good afternoon, sir. Is this the residence of a Miss Y/N Y/L/M?"

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Thank you all so much for 500+ reads, it warms my heart to know people enjoy pirate dream as much as I do ;;