#but I do also need to let him stew awhile yet in an actual canon you feel me? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaeminlore · 5 years ago

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A Flame That Still Burns | Jaemin

series timeline | playlist

summary: here i am, right next to you, and suddenly the world is all brand new

words: 8.3k+

category: pirate!jaemin, carpenter!reader, reader is gender neutral unless i slipped up in which case pls let me know so i can fix it, long-haired jaemin, angst, LOTS of grieving, not a conventional love story, PLEASE read hyucks “I Will Be There” before you read this, also jaemin is sad for basically the entire thing i’m so sorry but it’s important for his character development

Jaemin is seventeen years old when Prince Donghyuck is abducted.

"You have to get me to the sea," Jaemin pleads with the King's Advisor. "I can help!"

The man turns around, bristling at the closeness of the tall boy. "Lord Na, your father has given us explicit instruction to keep you here, safe on land."

"Hyuck wasn't safe on land, was he?" Jaemin retorts. He knows it's a low blow, but he needs to be out there. He's the only one who can find him.

"Jaemin, I am going to have to ask you to keep your mouth shut. We're going to find His Highness, but we need to do it without the entire Eastern Kingdom knowing that he's gone. It will only send them into an unnecessary panic."

"What if he's already dead? What if one of the villagers know something? Have you tried the merchants, because they trade with pirates all the time. Surely they would know secret routes, motives, ways of contact-"

"Enough." The man looks exasperated. He holds the front of his coat tightly in his fist and manages a forced smile Jaemin's way. "Our knights are on it. Mortem will be found and executed before you know it, so don't worry."

Jaemin mocks the man's words from behind his back. As if anyone would know how to find his best friend better than him.

When the man walks out of view, Jaemin is quick to head down to the boathouse, alerting one of the many seafaring servants. They bow out of politeness, and continue their work of preparing the ship to sail.

It's a massive rig. Looking like a pirate ship itself, though discernible by the royal coat of arms that adorns the pearl-toned flag. The wood is smooth, free of any splinters that might plague Jaemin as he runs his hand across the side. He can practically smell the gunpowder from the canons inside, just waiting to attack Mortem and bring back the prince.

Jaemin spots a rope ladder, dropped from the top deck. More than likely, it's for the servant to finish their final safety check. Jaemin sees it as a sign.

Before anyone can see him, he climbs aboard the ship, and becomes a stowaway.

Jaemin finds that despite being a natural chatterbox, he can get around as silently as he needs. He finds the ballast tank and hides himself behind the basalt rocks. The only time someone would find him here is if the ship becomes off-balanced. If he hides well enough, no amount of rocks extracted will reveal him. Besides, Jaemin is pretty small. He's technically not a man yet, just an adolescent.

So he tucks himself in and waits, patient and silent. To be honest, Jaemin was bred for this. He knows how to sit still thanks to all of the boring lessons his father insisted he attend. Years of sitting quietly and daydreaming have birthed some of Jaemin's fondest memory. Heck, Jaemin is pretty sure he could sleep with his eyes open at this point.

He imagines finding Donghyuck. He imagines finding his best friend and bringing him home.

The waves bob beneath the ship, and Jaemin finds the steady rocking to be a pleasant lullaby. He curls into himself and falls asleep while struggling to ignore the pain of many small rocks jabbing into his shoulder.

Jaemin is found five days later. To be completely honest, he's thankful someone finally noticed him, because he was beginning to go crazy in that little compartment. And he could only sneak so much food and water before the cook begins to notice that his rations are disappearing.

"Do you think this is a joke, Lord Na?" It's the same advisor from the castle. Jaemin really wishes the cynical man would've stayed home and saved him some of the embarrassment. There's an awkward blanket of silence after his question, for Jaemin simply does not want to answer it.

"I'm alerting the king and your father," the man continues. "I expect you won't be allowed back into the kingdom."

Jaemin's head pops up. "That's not fair! I just wanted to help find my friend!"

"You directly disobeyed orders given to you by your father, and more importantly, me; the king's chief advisor. Therefore, I have the right to banish you from the Eastern Kingdom if I see it fit. And I do."

Jaemin is left on the port of a rugged little town that seems to purely be a dock for merchants and traders. He enters the tavern closest to the docks and approaches the counter. "One night, please."

The man behind the counter accepts the shillings. "You look like hell." He has an accent.

"This tavern looks like hell," Jaemin retorts, lifting his elbow out of a sticky patch of spilled mead. "Do you even try to take care of it?"

"I have other things to do," says the innkeeper matter-of-factly. "'S not my fault my grandparents left it to me when I told them not to."

"You don't like it?" Jaemin accepts the mug of mead slipped across the counter for him. He pretends not to notice the weird grease stain sticking to the handle.

"What's to like? It's by the merchant's dock. Pirates and unlawful traders come in all the time. If they don't kill you or take you prisoner, they take all of your resources. I'm better off far away."

"How much?" Jaemin wipes his mouth. Once you get past the weird taste of pork grease, the mead is actually pretty good.

"Oh the mead? That's free. Who knows what's in those old jars."

Jaemin frowns. "I meant the tavern." If pirates come in and out, then it's possible the famed Mortem will show up sooner or later. Even if he isn't, Jaemin imagines the different pirates crews must gossip about each other in taverns, right?

He imagines managing a tavern where pirates feel comfortable enough to clue him in on the gossip. He imagines someone telling him where the prince is being kept. He imagines finding the prince in less than a month, and bringing him back unscathed.

"Oh, name your price."

Jaemin is eighteen years old when he meets a rouge pirate, desperate to save up for a ship.

Jaemin seems to be in a similar predicament, as he wasn't prepared for the amount of money it took to run a tavern. What money he brought with him went directly into the tavern. What money he could afford to save back was never enough, and Jaemin feels like screaming at the misfortune of it all.

Then this random pirate appears, asking for solace, and Jaemin figures it might be nice to have a friend. He puts them behind the counter with him, asking them question after question about what pirates they know and trust.

"I only know two crews," they say. "Mine and Jeno's."

"Jeno?" Jaemin wipes the counter, thankful he can at least keep the tavern tidy despite the traffic that runs through daily. "Is he another captain?"

"Yeah," they say. "But I don't think he's going to be out at sea anymore. Last I, uh, heard, he was going to stay on land."

"Friends?" Jaemin asks. To be honest, it's been awhile since he's been able to have a proper chat with anyone.

"Not quite."

"More?" Jaemin teases them with a soft jab to the side.

"Not anymore," they say with a sigh, and Jaemin wonders how much love is truly worth.

He changes the subject. "So, what's your plan?"

"I want to save up for a ship and a crew," they say, and it falls so perfectly with Jaemin's plan that he jumps on the opportunity.

"Can I come? I want to be a pirate."

"Absolutely not," they say.

Jaemin knows he'll have to convince them, but he's sure they'll come around.

Jaemin is nineteen years old when he and his business partner are captured by Mortem himself.

Jaemin counts it lucky, until the ship is blown to pieces, and he's left on the ship of his partner's former lover.

Was Donghyuck on the ship? He would've been with them in the cell, right? Jaemin would've seen him on his way up. He had tried to check as many doors as he could before he was shoved towards the second ship.

And what is he to do, standing on the dock, a bundle of clothes in his arms? His eyes reflect the flames of the shipwreck. He sees debris and oil and fire that seems to float across the water and yet... he sees no bodies.

None living, anyway.

None that look like his prince, anyway.

Jaemin thinks about diving in. He thinks about digging through the lost remains to find his precious friend; the one he's spent years planning to look for. He can't believe he's only a day late.

He missed it by a day.

Jaemin is in a daze when puts on the clothes. He doesn't even realize someone is leading him to the kitchen before he's there, standing in front of a potbellied man. The man has dreadlocks, held back by an orange bandana, and he has a deep voice despite the gentle smile on his dark face. "You look like hell." He has an accent.

Jaemin can't be bothered to form a reply. He slumps down onto the bench and watches the man use a giant ladle to stir whatever stew he's cooking. It smells like fish, and it reminds Jaemin of the Eastern Kingdom. He wonders when they will figure it out — that Donghyuck isn't coming back. He wonders if they figured it out a long time ago. Maybe he's the delusional one here.

"Name's Silver." The man says. He has two golden teeth and one missing from the front.

"Jaemin," he mutters, accepting the bowl of soup he's offered. Though reluctantly, his body feels better at the first bite, after barely any food for three days. He wonders how long Donghyuck went without food. Maybe he died within the first month. The only one who knows is now sleeping with the fishes, and Jaemin finds a bitter sorrow creep up into his throat. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"'S' not that bad, is it?" Silver lets out a hardy laugh, like he could care less about what the food tastes like.

"My friend died." Jaemin shoves a spoonful of soup into his mouth and swallows it without chewing. It scratches his throat on the way down, but Jaemin hopes that might make up for how he's let Donghyuck down. He's let the entire kingdom down. He chokes up — from either the situation or the potato chunk stuck in his throat, he does not know. "I was too late."

"Oh, my boy." Silver sits down. The entire bench creaks under his weight. He smells like sweat and broth, but there's something comforting about he way he quits what he's doing just to be near Jaemin. "Losing a friend is never easy. I know that for certain."

"I didn't do enough," Jaemin says. "I got lazy, and I made hasty decisions."

"None of that, now," Silver says. "I'm sure you did as much as you could."

Jaemin wants to tell Silver that he's let down an entire kingdom. He wants Silver to know that he's one of the most disappointing people in the world. He wants to tell Silver that he failed the prince. Prince Donghyuck who was always so bright and happy and ready to cheer anyone up. Now, Jaemin is sure, he's gone. When your entire life's purpose is to rescue someone who is now dead, what do you do?

What is Jaemin supposed to do?

Without much thought, Jaemin leans his head against the large cook's shoulder. He closes his eyes tightly, picturing the thought of Donghyuck in his last hours. Did he know Jaemin was looking for him? Did he know that Jaemin has spent all his time trying to finally get on the sea, and yet once he does, he's too late?

"There, there, Lad." Silver pats Jaemin's head. "Your friend knows you tried. They know."

Jaemin let's himself cry. The stress of the kidnapping and the fight flow through as he sobs into Silver's shoulder. He fiddles with the bandages on his arm. The wounds don't hurt to much anymore, but he supposes maybe he's still in shock. Or filled with adrenaline. Or some other scientific thing he learned during his lessons.

All he knows is that when Silver sneaks him a bottle of rum, he can't help but bring it out as soon as he hears a complaint from his tavern partner.

It's an excuse, he knows, but he chugs a few gulps, enjoying the burn the rakes down his throat.

He's told to slow down, but he can't explain the amount of pain he's trying to drown. No one knows why he cared so much about becoming a pirate. No one knows why this was so important to him. He figures it doesn't matter anymore. "Sorry," he focuses on his words, trying not to trip over them in his drunken haze. "I just feel bad." (Not a lie.) "I didn't mean to make you and Jeno fight." (Not really a lie, but not his main concern either.)

He's brought out onto the deck for some fresh air, and he focuses on the beauty in the stars. He recalls Donghyuck's canopy above his bed; the sewn constellations that Donghyuck admired so much. He wonders if the king and queen think of Donghyuck when they look at the stars. He wonders if he will be able to find peace after this night.

Truthfully, he doesn't think he will.

It takes a few days to get back to the port where his tavern lay dormant. Jaemin and Silver walk into the building and see that — luckily — not much had changed.

"It's yours," he says, passing the key to Silver. "Thanks for everything."

And then he's back at the harbor, purchasing the small vessel he's had his eye on for years. The Peribat's mast kind of droops. The sails are a bit torn, and Jaemin thinks the melancholy ship is perfect for his mood.

He's given a coat; told not to trade it. He knows he won't, because it's getting close to winter and he has nothing else to wear.

Jaemin hugs his old tavern partner; bids them fairwell; thinks of how happy they seem after being reunited with Jeno.

He wishes he could've found Donghyuck.

You are nineteen years old when Jaemin hires you to join his crew. You're behind your father's lumber shop, chopping firewood when Jaemin comes around back. You know him as the tavern owner, though lately it's been run by someone new. "Good morning," you risk a smile. Your words come out in white, frosty breaths.

Jaemin is quite handsome, though objectively so. His hair is a deep and dark brown, similar to his eyes. The quirky lift of his chapped lips sets some intrigue, and you wonder if he knows how many of the villagers admire him. You also wonder what he's doing talking to you.

"You're a carpenter, yes?" He hasn't smiled much since he came back, you notice. Of course, it's widely known that the two tavern owners had been abducted by pirates. Only Jaemin came back. You wonder if the rumors around town are true; and his friend is dead.

"I'm my father's apprentice," you finally get around to correcting him. You swing the ax down and chop the log you had previously set up.

Jaemin waits for you to finish wiping your sweaty forehead with the bottom of your shirt. "Do you know about ships?"

"I can mend one, if that's what you're asking." This is pirate and merchant territory. Everyone owns a ship, and every ship needs repairs eventually. Jaemin probably knows this and is simply using formalities.

"I'm asking if you can help me with mine."

"Name?" You grunt, heaving another heavy log onto the stump.

"Na Jaemin," he says. You're surprised that his last name is of Eastern nobility. But that isn't important, because that wasn't what you were asking.

"No, the name of the ship."

"Oh," Jaemin raises his eyebrows. "She's called The Peribat."

"That old thing?" You can only imagine how many repairs it's going to need. "You bought it?"

"Cheapest one," Jaemin shrugs. "Plus, I like the name."

"Unrequited?" You translate. The cold wind seeps through your thin coat, and despite the amount of work you've been doing, you haven't felt any warmer. You're just sweaty and cold, which is a gross combination in your humble opinion.

"Love or reward unreturned," Jaemin's eyes seem to look at something behind you. Something that isn't there. "It's interesting that that's what someone named their ship."

"I wonder who didn't return the captain's love."

Jaemin cracks a smile. It's small, but it feels like a little glimmer of sunshine peaking through a storm. "Me too."

"Do you think his ghost drifts across the dock every devil's hour, moaning about the love he never received?" You smile and lean on the handle of your ax.

Jaemin quirks a brow. "Maybe. I haven't spent the night on it yet."

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know." Something in his tone tells you that he does. "Just start anew."

"That might be nice," you say. You picture leaving your controlling stepmother and living a life on the sea. "Would you hunt for treasure?"

"Maybe," Jaemin bites his lip. "I did hear about the siren's treasure, but it never seemed important to me."

"What's the treasure?"

"No one knows," Jaemin shrugs. "All I know is that there's a key. Something belonging to the sirens. They say when you return it to it's rightful owner, you'll be given a bountiful treasure."

"How do you know if you have the key?"

"I don't know..." Jaemin trails off. "But if you want to be clueless with me, you're welcome to."

"You drive a hard bargain, Captain Na Jaemin."

Mending a ship takes months when only two people are up to the task. Luckily, Jaemin is good at making the days pass by quickly. Though solemn, a bit of his jovial spirit peaks through every now and again, and the two of you begin to learn a lot about each other.

You struggle to saw a piece of measured wood as you speak. "So what would you do with treasure? Assuming you found any?"

Jaemin is sitting against the wall of the ship, taking a break from nailing down planks. A goblet of water rests between his fingers. "Start anew, I suppose. I don't really want to go back to land anytime soon, so I'd probably blow some money on a brand new boat and sail as far as the eye can see."

"Sounds quite dismal," you say. You wipe the sweat off of your forehead and toss a sawed-off plank towards Jaemin. "I would go off to the Western Kingdom, I think. I'd live in a little cabin behind a bunch of trees."

Jaemin hums. He uses his hammer to nail the plank down and then sits back onto the balls of his feet. "We should get started, then, shouldn't we?"

Jaemin is nineteen years old when he becomes the captain of a crew. To captain a ship is one thing, but convincing an entire crew of men that you're capable of leading them towards a better life is a different ballgame entirely.

Though you are only a carpenter, Jaemin makes you his first mate. The rest of the crew are given jobs and tasks to do, and though it takes a few weeks to get a routine going, Jaemin likes to think that they're all doing a rather good job.

The pilot stays at the helm, steering the ship away from any dangers afoot (or rather, afloat.) The cabin boys — Chenle and Jisung from the Southern Kingdom — are both lovely, and Jaemin takes to them as if they're his own. The Quartermaster, a man named Jaehyun, is Jaemin's new favorite person. He's a man that Jaemin trusts, so much so that he's content to make him second-in-command.

But perhaps, Jaemin's favorite addition to the crew is a boy his age named Yangyang. He's the sea artist, the navigator. He keep tabs on where they sail and how much distance they sail each day. But mostly, he finds a secluded corner of the ship to hide in, and there he fixes the maps, or paints the seascape ahead.

He's more of a free spirit than anyone on the boat. With no set goal in mind, he truly is only here for a good time. Jaemin decides that's what he likes most about the boy.

He finds that many days at sea, he can lose himself in Yangyang's paintings for hours, memorizing the lines and strokes.

Yangyang is painting again today, and Jaemin hands him a piece of buttered toast he was given by the cook. "Here, eat up. Our rations are dwindling. We're trying to find land soon, but we should eat our best food while we can."

Yangyang bites into the bread and washes it down with the water Jaemin also brought him. "Check out my newest piece."

The worn and yellowed paper showcases a couple, backs turned on the viewers. They're leaning against the railing of the ship, hairs tossed in the wind. They're smiling at each other as if there isn't the beginning of a storm breeding around them.

It takes Jaemin a few moments to realize. "That's me and Y/n."

"Yeah," Yangyang says. "I captured the moment from a few days ago. I don't think the two of you knew I was watching."

Jaemin scrunches his nose, feeling odd. "Why'd you draw us? What's so interesting about two people talking to each other?"

"Notice your body language," Yangyang says, matter-of-factly. "Y/n is open and honest, turned towards you with arms uncrossed. You're closed up, feet pointed away, eyes on the sea while Y/n's are on you. It was just interesting to me, is all."

Jaemin thinks about the painting for the rest of the day. It settles in his waistband, behind his leather sash. He can feel it sear his skin through his shirt. He wants to take it out and study it. He wants to read between the lines and figure out what Yangyang means when he calls Jaemin closed up.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You lean against the middle mast. There's a tool belt around your waist. It's a little loose, perhaps made for a grown man rather than a young adult. There's a streak of red paint across your cheekbone, and Jaemin stares at it in order to avoid your gaze. "Ah. I'm just tired, is all."

"You're always tired, it seems," you say passively. You wait for Jaemin to defend himself, and when he doesn't, you continue. "Anyway, I've repainted the doors below deck. They were beginning to look pretty worn, and we had spare paint in the hull, so..."

"I'm sure they look wonderful," Jaemin says. He wants to mention that red is his best friends favorite color. Was.

He curses himself. What's the point of running off to sea if he can't forget about everything that happened?

"I'm gonna turn in," he says, voice a bit heavy. He knows you can sense the change of mood, but you don't mention it. Jaemin is thankful.

You are nearly nineteen when you decide becoming a pirate on a whim is perhaps not the greatest idea.

Firstly, rations are a thing, and it's completely normal for pirates to run out of food if they don't find land on schedule. Secondly, fights will break out between crews, and every once in awhile, someone will get hurt. As the carpenter, and in turn, the surgeon, it's up to you to keep these men alive despite no previous medical training. Thirdly, the captain is your only friend aboard, and he's more distant than ever.

Your starving and worn out crew finally reach land, and they all disperse to trade their goods and make a profit, agreeing to come back to the boat on the dawn of two weeks.

You follow Jaemin and Yangyang to the marketplace, where Yangyang plans to sell his art.

Once he's settled, and needs no additional help, you grab Jaemin's hand and pull him closer to the city. "Let's find a nice place to stay. We have the savings for it."

Jaemin holds his coat closed over his chest. "We should find the library and ask around about the siren's treasure."

You stop and turn to Jaemin, studying his face. There are dark circles beneath his eyes; chapped lips red and cracked from the salt of the ocean. He looks beyond tired, and you know that what he needs more than anything is a warm bath and a bed on land. "We have two weeks. Let's spend some time resting."

Jaemin huffs. "I was going to sleep on the ship."

"Jaehyun said he would, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but–"

"No buts, Jaemin." You tighten your grip on his hand just as his loosens. "You've been walking around the ship like a ghost for the past few weeks. You've been eating less and sleeping more. The entire crew is worried about you."

"I'm fine," Jaemin says, voice distant. He trails after you, so quiet that you have to keep looking back to make sure he hasn't left you.

But it's just Jaemin, trudging along with his eyes downcast to the dirt road in front of him. He's wearing an oversized brown shirt; one certainly stolen from one of the crew members. His hair has gotten longer, after not cutting it, and it's curling beneath his ears.

You wonder if he should tie it up; keep it out of his face. Then again, maybe the reason he's keeping it long is purely to hide his face. "In here," you call, shaking thoughts of his appearance out of your face.

Upon entering the inn, you're struck with the tender reminder of how nice it is to live on land. The hearth keeps the room warm, easing your bones, chilly from months at sea. You hesitate to approach upon seeing so many men sat around, playing cards or sipping rum straight from the bottle.

Jaemin grabs your wrist. The action is weak; even weaker when he presses his chest against your shoulder for some kind of subtle support. "I don't want to be around anyone else," he confesses, vulnerably settling in the lines of his face.

"Okay,” you say. "We'll get a room and tuck in."

As soon as the innkeeper opens your door with his key, Jaemin b-lines for the window and yanks the drapes open, eyes scanning for some unknown subject. He finally settles, "My ship. I can see her."

"Yes, it's safe, Jaemin." You leave your rucksack beside the door and stand by his side. "It won't disappear just because you aren't on it."

"Yeah," Jaemin breathes. You find yourself studying his appearance again, but this time his face. The way his lips are dark and chapped. His cheeks are sunken in, and paired with the dark bags beneath his eyes, he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. Hasn't been happy in months.

"Jaemin?" Your touch is tentative, a gentle press of your palm against his elbow. "Let's rest now, okay?"

Jaemin deflates. You can see it in the way his hand slips from the windowsill. He nods, then turns his body to you. "Are you going to be here?"

"If you need me."

"I need you," Jaemin says quickly. He blinks slowly, eyelashes long and gentle against his cheeks. "I'm tired."

"I know," you say. "You need to sleep."

"No," Jaemin shakes his head, a stubborn pout on his face. "I'm tired of this. Of everything. Of pretending to be something I never was in the first place."

Jaemin drifts over to the beside table, where a pitcher and dish full of water are waiting. He begins to untie the front of his shirt, even though he doesn't really need to, as the neckline is too big for him anyway. He yanks the garment over his head, rolls it up, and dips it into the dish. He begins to wash his face, leaning down so that you can see just how taunt his skin is stretched over his vertebrae. He's far too skinny. Not even just from rationing food — letting his crew eat before him. This is the kind of skinny one gets from losing their battle with life. Losing their will to whatever haunts them.

Jaemin's skin is as tan as his shoulders are broad. When he straightens up again, you can't help but notice how small his waist is. That despite his large clothing, his belt tapers him at a small measurement most pirates don't have after days of hard work in the sun. Jaemin looks like he's still a noble from the Eastern Kingdom.

Maybe in his heart, he still is.

"Why did you ever leave nobility in the first place?" you ask, tempted with the desire to figure out Jaemin's backstory.

He sits on the edge of the bed, much too small for two people, but you know you'll end up in it anyways. He looks very much like a boy in this moment, face illuminated by the lantern light. "Prince Donghyuck," he says through a sigh.

"May he rest in peace," you say almost automatically. It's been your village's reply for ages in respect to the missing prince, who most assume is already dead.

"Yeah," Jaemin laughs humorlessly. "May he rest in peace. He wasn't dead, you know. He was there, within arms reach. I was in Mortem's ship, and I couldn't save him. I couldn't find him. The ship blew up, and I failed my prince. I failed my entire country."

"Jaemin." You're quick to sit beside him and place a comforting hand on his knee. Heat radiates off of his bare skin as he leans onto his knees, face in his hands. "None of that is your fault. Everyone went looking for him. The four kingdoms sent their best sailors out. Who's to say he stayed at sea? You said you didn't see him on the ship, right? Mortem's ship?"

Jaemin sniffs and nods. Before you can speak again, he curls against you, tucking his face into your neck. "I tried, Y/n. I tried, but the ship was on fire and everyone was fighting and–"

You shush Jaemin through the action of running your fingers through his hair. He slumped against you, and you can feel the weight on his shoulders. You can feel what he's been carrying with him for the past year. "You were close? You and the prince?"

"Yeah," Jaemin chokes, "Like brothers. The only other person he confided in was Prince Mark from the North. And he had a friend on staff, but not many other people loved him as purely as he deserved. And now he's gone."

"But you did everything you could," you say, holding Jaemin tighter. "It's not your fault that Prince Donghyuck is dead."

Jaemin bursts into tears then, an uncontrollable sob that breaks your heart into a million little pieces as you listen. He's weak against your hold, so he doesn't put up a fight when you gently push him down.

The two of you lay beside each other, the only sound besides Jaemin's scattered hiccups; the sound of the uneven waves outside.

You grasp at his arm and pull him close until your foreheads are pressed together. "You know that, don't you, Jaemin? It's not your fault."

Jaemin curls against you, sobs more sporadic. He's clutching your shirt, and you can feel his wet lashes brush against your shoulder. "I know that," he says, voice low and scratchy. "I just don't know how to believe it."

Jaemin is nineteen years old — almost twenty — when he learns that if you're leading a group of people, you can't show weakness.

So Jaemin doesn't. He allows himself a night at the inn to cry himself out. To fall into a lethargy just for the night, where he's too tired and worn out to think of anything.

He meant what he said to you. He knows it isn't his fault. Logically, there's no way he could've saved Donghyuck. His head knows that. His heart, however, is doing everything in it's power to convince him that he could've done more.

Maybe he could've.

Jaemin sighs and looks out towards the sea. His crew is in good spirits today, now that they've figured out how to ration food properly between ports. Now, the deck is often filled with the crass sound of sea shanties.

You're busy lately, after a rough storm took off part of the top sail. You've been busy mending, sewing with a few crew members who could spare the time. But today you're alone in your task, so Jaemin takes that as an excuse to see you.

"Hey." He sits down beside you and picks up the spool of thread you're using. It's horribly tangled, so he works out the kinks while you see the sail.

He studies your face for a moment. Just a quick, fleeting moment he wants to steal from the world. You, and your long lashes, and the way your hands are rough from your work. "You're sunburnt," he finally states, reaching out to poke at your reddened nose.

"It's hot out here," you state plainly.

"We've reached the Southern borders," Jaemin guesses. He sees his crew mill about, the majority of them forgoing their shirts in an effort to keep cool. Sweat shines against their skin, and Jaemin feels the motherly urge to force them all to go wash up and take a quick nap. He's still getting the hang of this whole pirate thing.

"We need to stop again," you say, exasperation in your voice. "This sail isn't going to hold, and the mast is nearly wrecked. I need to find new wood and rework the framing of the ship."

"What?"

"The Peribat is going to wreck one way or another," you say. "From weak sails or weak foundation. We have to stop for repairs."

"The crew isn't going to want to stop," Jaemin says.

"I know." Your voice holds a sort of resolve to it. Jaemin wonders if you know how regal you sound; like you could walk right into Eastern Court and be accepted. He wonders if you'd even care about that. "But we're stopping anyway. I want to live."

You set your eyes on Jaemin before you continue. "Jaemin, how long are you going to lie to them?"

Jaemin's mouth feels dry all of a sudden, and he doesn't think it's from the humidity. "How can I tell them? How can I tell them I have no idea where the siren's treasure is?"

"You haven't even tried," you hiss. "I told you to research and ask around, but you didn't. We're sailing in circles and I'm really tired. Jaemin, the adventure was fun when that's all it was — adventure. Now it's just a chance to ignore our problems. I don't want to ignore them anymore."

Jaemin knows you're right. He's been running for years, desperate to get away from all that haunts him. But really, where has it gotten him, save perpetual exhaustion? "You're right," he says. "We'll dock are the Southern Port, and I'll give the ship to Jaehyun."

"You can find a life for yourself, Jaemin." You tear off a piece of thread with your teeth, grimacing at the taste. "If you keep running, how will you ever find where you're meant to be?"

The Southern Kingdom has always been a place Jaemin wanted to visit. Of course, he would prefer better circumstances; ones where he isn't giving up the ship he's grown to love so much.

But you're right. Harboring a grudge overseas only creates ghosts. Phantom memories. Wounds that won't heal.

Jaehyun is good. He'll be a good captain, and Jaemin leaves all of his goods to him, save his special coat, and enough currency to get both you and him a place to sleep for a few nights.

The spring festival is in full swing. Jaemin isn't sure how, since the air is so heavy with heat. He's not used to this sort of heat. In the East, the air is hot, but there's always a refreshing breeze to keep you cool. Here it's just sweltering heat. The Southern Kingdom is like a desert. There's moisture, but it sticks to one's skin like a parasite.

The festival is set along the village streets. What once were cobblestones are now covered in the petals of cactus flowers. Each home front is set up with wreaths of flowers and odd succulents native to the land. Children mill around, shrieking behind their papier-mâché masks deigned to look like tigers, parrots, and snakes.

You love it.

Jaemin is still mourning the loss of his ship when you run straight into the masses, b-lining straight for the carpenter's booth. When he finally reaches you — breath short and a stitch in his side — you're discussing whetting techniques with a bearded carpenter and his wife. The man is in the middle of carving a nesting doll out of wood. The woman is painting one already formed. Jaemin can see one painted like the famous Prince Yukhei, and another like the new princess consort. He wonders what the smaller ones will be: perhaps a famed knight or a small cactus flower. Maybe a ballerina from the royal ballet.

Jaemin has missed so much; he wouldn't be surprised if there were a new heir.

During his time of observation, Jaemin failed to see how you convinced the man into letting you whet your own little doll with the spare wood he had on his table.

"Jaemin, come here," you say, voice bright with childlike excitement. You're bouncing on the balls of your feet — something that makes Jaemin nervous because you're also holding a knife.

"Please, be careful." He reaches out to take the knife away from you.

"I've never really made toys before!" you exclaim. "How adorable!"

"What is it you craft?" The woman at the booth questions you. "Jewelry boxes? Chests? Furniture?"

"I mend ships!" You say, purity in your voice.

A part of Jaemin feels sharp and warm, like he's just been brushed by a candle flame. It comes suddenly, the endearment. He finds himself excited at the new feeling: a positing change from everything else in his mind.

He moves closer to you. Just to feel the warmth again.

"Mending ships?" The woman clicks her tongue. "I remember dreaming of a life on a ship. Thought the adventure would awaken my spirit and help me find my will."

"Did you?" Jaemin asks, now interested. "Did your spirit wake up?"

The woman has a bit of a sparkle in her eye. There are wrinkles beside her eyes when she stares up at Jaemin. "It woke up eventually. Didn't have to go to sea, though."

"What did you do?" And Jaemin is desperate; searching for some reason not to feel so hollow and bare on the inside. Something inside of him needs to be released. He needs to find the peace he once had.

The woman seems to understand, maybe more than Jaemin will ever truly know. She hands Jaemin the smallest nesting doll; painted on it, a sprout. "I waited. And I grew. And the things that haunted me grew more distant along with my pain."

You find Jaemin's hand before he can think to ask you for support. You squeeze it, and that warm feeling is back. Jaemin wants to wrap himself inside of it and stay there forever.

"Thank you," he passes the nestling doll back to the woman.

"Keep it," she says. "And don't forget to let yourself grow in your own time."

There's a cup of cactus water between your hands, but you haven't taken a sip since the ballet began.

The newest tradition of the Southern Kingdom is the artistic dance— one the princess consort began in the halls of the castle. She's there now, directing the children as the dance around the stage. They're dressed in handsome colors: gold and rose and pearl and silver.

Your eyes are alight as they follow the dancers. Jaemin wonders how long he can stare at you before you become uncomfortable. Right now, he's enjoying watching the way your eyebrows furrow when the music speeds up — the way you pout when it slows down.

Jaemin feels hot again, and it's not the same as the market. It's not the same as the humidity. This is at the back of his neck, and it tickles him when he thinks about your lips, and your skin, and your hands.

He finds himself imagining a time where he could simply gather you in his arms and kiss you senseless.

Jaemin looks away.

Maybe that's enough looking for awhile.

Jaemin's never been one for subtlety, and you know that better than anyone.

You get a room at another inn. Currently, Jaemin has his head in the icebox while you study the nesting dolls. "Maybe I should sell toys," you say. "To make some money for us."

"I can sell some of my stuff from the ship," Jaemin's muffled voice replies. He finally sticks his head out of the ice box, and it's endearing to see his nose and cheeks a bright shade of reddish pink. "I have this coat... my friend told me not to sell it, but we can get a lot of money off of it, so I'm sure they'll understand."

"We can have a life here, Jaemin," you say.

Jaemin visibly gulps. "We'll stay together, then?"

"You're my closest friend, Jaemin. We have to stay together. We're a team." You smile, internally thrilled at the way Jaemin's entire countenance brightens.

"A team," he repeats. He bites his lip and keeps his eyes on his shoes. "I'm glad, then."

Jaemin is twenty years old when he decides to do something about his feelings. To sort them out or get rid of them altogether — either one is better than this strange limbo he has been feeling lately.

You're filled with enthusiasm and new ideas. You eventually do get your own stand in the Southern Market. You carve toys out of wood and sell them to the many children of the kingdom.

Jaemin attends a trade school now; one teaching about the new technology of mechanics. Jaemin is a clever and skilled mechanic, he discovers. He makes the mechanics that go into jewelry boxes and wind-up dolls.

He thinks of the sea often still. To ease the longing, he works on the prototype for a pirate ship toy that really sails when you stick it in the water. The blueprints are laid out over the bed (one the two of you share in the small storefront you were able to afford.) Jaemin's already in his nightshirt, but he has no plans of sleeping. His designs are nearly perfect, and he desperately wants to have them perfected before the holidays.

You're in the kitchen, visible to him through the open doorway. The soft light of the mid-table lantern is the only reason he can see your face, pinched in concentration as you go over the bookings of the day. Tomorrow is the day of the week when you visit the bookkeeper, to make sure the shop is in order.

Jaemin's thankful you have so much knowledge from your father's lumber shop, because he doesn't know the first thing about business and finances and taxes.

He approaches the doorway and leans against the wall, watching as you write in corrections and equations. Your hair has gotten longer since the two of you settled down. It's soft-looking, and Jaemin knows it smells good, because he knows what soap you use. Of course, it's quite odd to think of someone's scent, so he files that thought away with any other tidbit he knows about you that he'd be embarrassed for you to find out about.

"Come to bed," he says, finding his voice in the space between the silence of the house and the loudness of his thoughts. Realistically, he knows his order holds no force behind it, and you may very well stay out all night, fretting over past transactions. He has no influence in your life, despite living with you for so long. He's your business partner, nothing more. Nothing less, either, as Jaemin knows the two of you are affectionate enough — the only source of comfort the two of you sometimes have.

Then again, Jaemin has seen you around other men his age, and you always act different around them. Less pliant, yet more willing. Jaemin is only thinking about it now because of your stubbornness, and the way it does more harm than good. He's also thinking about the way you smile at them; the fair pink of your cheeks and the laugh that's not as genuine as it is with him. He wonders why you fake it around them— rather, why they matter so much that you would.

"I have to recheck these," you say. Your voice gets softer at night, as not to awaken the slumbering peace around you. It's one of the little things Jaemin notices, and likes very much. Of course, he has an entire list of little habits and quirks he's fallen in love with in the past year, but they all stay unspoken in the fear that you'll despise him for them.

"You've been rechecking them since lunch. I don't think you can get any more accurate." Jaemin chuckles. He uncrosses his arms and holds them out to you. "Come to bed. Please."

"Clear it of your blueprints, first," you say, eyes knowing.

"Deal."

Jaemin rolls up his plans and places them under the bed. He loves this bedroom very much. It's smaller than the one he used to have in the castle, yet it's spacey compared to than his ship's quarters.

The bed is just large enough for two, covered in a thin quilt crafted specifically to battle the hot evenings. The window is hidden behind a yarn tapestry in an effort to keep the sun out. It's teal-colored ikat design is from one of the many neighboring islands, as their merchants import goods. Jaemin recognized it a long time ago as one that is usually seen in the halls of Eastern nobility, so now it hangs as a reflective reminder.

There's a small bathing tub, hidden by a dressing screen. Jaemin has always preferred to just get his washing done in the bathhouse with everyone else, but he has come to respect that you want your privacy, so the two of you saved up for a tub to stick in an unoccupied corner. Now the room often smells of orange spice and other fruity smelling soaps and oils you've purchased from the market. Sometimes, Jaemin likes to take baths as well, away from the prying eyes of nosy neighbors. Sometimes, it's nice to just sit in the hot water and relax by himself.

(Only sometimes, though. Jaemin has comes to find that he doesn't really like being left alone, and far too often he has called you into the bedroom to talk to him through the screen, so that he wouldn't have to be with his thoughts any longer.)

There's a wooden chest at the foot of the bed, with just enough clothes for the two of you to get by. Spending day in and day out in a toy shop doesn't really require all that much change in appearance, so the two of you don't have much clothing. Jaemin sits atop the latched lid and stares at his hands.

You walk in, lantern in your grasp. Jaemin can see the contours and shadows of your face in the firelight. He watches you place the lantern on the empty space beside him. "Jaemin, why aren't you in bed?"

"I was— I was waiting for you," Jaemin says. He feels his mouth dry the moment you settle your hands against his shoulders. You lean in close. You always lean in close, but it startles him every time. Jaemin thinks if he could be this close to you forever, always inches away from a kiss, he'd be satisfied.

Jaemin can't help but stare at your lips now, raw and pink from constant worrying. He wants to ask you what this is: why he feels so far away from you despite living with you. He can feel your thumbs, calloused from woodwork, rub against the junction of his shoulder. He wants to lean in, breathe you in, and forget himself in your touch. Jaemin wracks his brain to try and remember the exact moment he decided you carried a part of him, but it blends with his memories so much so that he can't form a solid conclusion.

He supposes it's everything about you. It's your dedication to your work, as well as your knowledge on the Northern political climate. It's the callouses on your palms and the hair on your arms and the way you nuzzle into his side just before you get up in the morning. It's because you always make coffee for him, even when you prefer tea. It's the fact that Jaemin is pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten through these last few years without you.

You lean into him now, climbing atop the chest so that you can properly straddle his lap. Jaemin thinks his heart is going to burst when you press your forehead against his. Warmth pools into his chest and dips down in his stomach. It's familiar and welcome, the euphoria of being around you.

"Jaemin? We should sleep." Your breath is warm across his cheeks, and it should be uncomfortable because of the climate, but he welcomes it wholly.

"I know," he says, but neither of you move.

You close the distance. Jaemin has no idea if you can read his mind or if he’s just that transparent, but you hold his jaw between your pointer finger and thumb, and lift his face to meet yours.’

And your lips remind Jaemin of the verbascum flowers that used to bloom in his private garden. They’re soft and pliant and they’re coaxing him out of his shell so easily that Jaemin begins to worry about his resolve and priorities. Your hands feel good on his shoulders, so Jaemin lets you push the sleeve of his shirt down, if just to feel your touch on his burning skin.

This is it. This is what he wants. Not just the physical closeness, but the intimacy and vulnerability that comes with it. Jaemin likes this. He likes feeling like a real person; someone with a heart and a soul; someone made of more than sadness and regret.

He loves you, he thinks. He doesn’t want to say it; figures it’s not important right now. But he can feel your love in the warmth of your chest, and you can feel it in the quickening of his heartbeat.

Jaemin likes to think that that's enough.

#dreamwritersnet #always return au #seasons au #jaemin au #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin scenario #jaemin scenarios #nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenario #nct scenarios #destwrites

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bladesmcna · 7 years ago

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Time for me to meta about everything the Keith video touched on. PSA it’s a long read. It’s just over 2k words. Also psa DO NOT REBLOG.

I’d like to start off this with a song lyric that I feel really resonates with keith.

Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

I’m going to start from the beginning of Keith’s life because frankly, that’s where all of his problems started. Keith has never canonically mentioned his father other than in the blade episode so there’s not much to go on there. BUT now that he’s mentioned his mother leaving him we can infer that Keith has abandonment issues. He blames the way he is now on the fact that his mother left him. His biggest question is WHY she left him. What did he do wrong? Why didn’t she love him? It’s all these questions that he’s asked himself for years now.

The next point I’d like to move on to is the abandonment issues that came along as a result of his mother leaving him. Now while I hc that his father died ( the show could prove me wrong but whatever ) and then Keith was shipped off to the Garrison instead of going into foster care that’s another issue of Keith being alone. His father left him by himself, no other family to contact. Instead they shipped him off to the Garrison where he tried to bust his ass to make something out of himself. He needed to prove to himself that even with all the shit he’s gone through that he could be more than his parents deaths.

I’d also like to point out how Keith is never taught any coping mechanisms on how to deal with loss or anger or anything that could make him uncomfortable. He’s literally been shown to lose his cool and get angry the second he feels uncomfortable. Why? Because he doesn’t have any other way of dealing with. It’s not like he wants to get angry all the time he just doesn’t know how to control it. He gets worked up and then can’t stop himself until it’s too late and then whenever someone such as Shiro or Lance call him out and ask him to calm down he’s calm almost immediately, why? Because he never intends to get that angry in the first place. After being called out about it it’s just another slap in the face that he can’t control himself or his emotions because he never had someone there to teach him.

This is where I wanna bring Shiro into the picture. They obviously knew each other through the Garrison ( my ships aside here ) they were most likely friends before Shiro went off to Kerberos. So not only had Keith finally made a friend, but he then had to watch them go off into space and then be reported missing. There’s another instance of loss in his life and he doesn’t know how to cop so what happens? He drops out because of disciplinary issues. Aka he couldn’t keep his temper in check because again, he bottled his feelings until the point where he was a human catalyst and exploded.

After dropping out Keith had basically no where to go so he found himself in an old shack. Where he got to stew on his feelings alone for a few months. This is when the realization that everything in his life as amounted to nothing hits him. His parents are both gone, his one and only friend is presumed dead in space and he dropped out of a top flight school where he was at the top of his class only to end up ALONE. Out of the 3 canonically relevant people he’d ever been close to in his life, all of three of them had left him. That’s when the depression hits him harder than before. He struggles waking up every day he struggles taking care of himself. His hair grows out he forgets how to interact with people. He doesn’t know how to function as a person anymore.

After awhile it was too much for him. He feels like he never deserved a chance to be born with in the first place because whatever high being there is out there ( I personally don’t think Keith is religious ) gave him this sort of life even after he busted his ass to try and become someone. Yet there he was, thrown out in the dirt once again.

Another thing I’d like to touch on is how Keith actually views himself because that’s super important to me and how I write him.

Keith doesn’t view himself in a good light at all for all the reasons I’ve already listed. Keith doesn’t see himself as the ‘number one pilot’ the rest of the team might see him for. He’s flawed. He can’t deal with most social situations without getting aggressive or awkward because honestly he’s had more interaction with people in the first two episodes of voltron than nearly his entire life prior to him finding Shiro again. So of course he’s awkward and quiet unless provoked. ( which honestly isn’t a hard thing to do BUT i digress ) He also has a hard time grasping a lot of social concepts that many people think are second nature. ( insert the i say vol you say tron example here ) The reason why he’s so hung up on the whole i say voltron deal is because to him, it makes more logical sense to just say voltron than to say something that, while yes it’s supposed to be humorous, just doesn’t make any sense to him. Keith isn’t one for humor that isn’t direct/blunt because a lot of the time his brain can’t wrap itself around the concept.

I also want to touch on his the relationships he holds with the paladins themselves and how he views their input.

I’d like to start this off with the beginning of season three whenever they were all deciding who was going to pilot the black lion. Their aggression towards him confessing that Shiro kept being like ‘i want you to lead voltron’ but having never mentioned it to anyone else, not even to coran or allura is like a huge kick in the face to the little confidence he had in himself. One because he hates being rejected because that’s all he’s ever been his entire life. Two, is because he thought the team thought more highly of him than just the loner and yet there they were calling him out and making him feel like he was at the bottom of the barrel. The only talent any of them ever acknowledge is his piloting skills. Nothing else about him shines, he’s just a good pilot to them.

Moving on to whenever they all actually go in the black lion. Keith was the LAST to attempt and honestly he probably only attempted because everyone else was pressuring him to. He had to try right? Except he never wanted to lead voltron in the first place. He doesn’t have the skill set to lead he doesn’t have the qualities of a leader. Even after the black lion responds to him he wants to deny it, he wants to let someone else do it because he can’t have such a big responsibility placed on him whenever he knows he’s going to fail.

That’s when everyone starts to congratulate him and he feels like he’s just been kicked in the teeth. He knows their true feelings, he knows that know of them really value his ability to pilot over him and yet there they were being like ‘oh you’re going to be a great leader.’ Yet he wasn’t. He almost got Allura killed. They wanted him to lead so he did, and he failed.

Once again he’d failed. He failed his mother’s love, his fathers legacy, and how he’d failed Shiro. That only made the depression worse.

Moving back all the way to season 1 I want to talk about the famous ‘bonding moment’ that was humorously touched in the show.

The reason ( I feel at least ) Keith is so upset about Lance not remembering it is because for the first time since Shiro, Keith had found someone that had seen him in a good light. Someone that had complimented him. Even after all the headassery that Lance had started with Keith he thought they made a good team, and this good team work is shown time and time again throughout the show and yet the fact that Lance forgets it just solidifies to Keith that nothing he does is worth remembering.

This is the time where I put my little blurb about Lance and Keith and their interactions

So Lance starts basically everything in the rivalry between the two of them. Literally within the first five minutes of meeting Keith, Lance is already shoving his superiority down his throat. At first Keith didn’t understand why Lance was like this and why Lance kept pushing it on him. ( he even finds it somewhat annoying and like Lance has a problem ) Yet as time goes on the rivalry turns into a more competitive nature that Keith starts to play back with. At first Keith really just wanted Lance to get off his case, and now it’s like their rivalry has brought them closer together by the time season 3 rolls around.

My last few little blurbs before I close off this novel of a meta

Keith deals with anxiety and depression that’s almost without a doubt 100% canon in my eyes. The way he acts and the way he carries himself and how he speaks and the way he words things and all this stuff is clearly a sign that he’s struggling with it and he doesn’t know how to control it, yet he also doesn’t want to admit that he has a problem because he doesn’t want to fail everyone on the team yet again.

Keith also values everyone on his team way more than what he lets on. He protects Allura from the arusian that comes to the castle asking why the lion goddess is mad. He catches Pidge from being thrown and all the times he’s thrown his sword to protect Lance and everything else he’s done. He wants to protect the team because they’ve become almost like his first real family. Yet he’s also terrified that this new family will drop him too, just like everyone else.

Keith struggles with his galra side. He struggles taking in the fact that he’s not what he thought he was his entire life and that just makes him not know who he is even more. Sometimes whenever he looks in the mirror he doesn’t see himself, but instead Zarkon or Lotor because that’s where part of him is from. He hates the term ‘galra keith’ because it’s like the fact once everyone knows that he’s galra he’s instantly not himself anymore but instead this evil abomination that’s wiped out entire systems with his army. Him being Galra is just the nail in the coffin that once again, he’s a huge disappointment to everyone.

He fears rejection big time. Because all anyone has ever done from the get go is reject him. His mother rejected him by leaving, he rejected himself from the garrison. Lance rejects him by throwing all of his flaws in his face. He can’t catch a break. He tries so hard to prove to everyone that he’s more than the broken parts of him that he hides away. He wants to try and prove to everyone ( including himself ) that he can be more than just some socially awkward teenager.

In closing I’d like to bring up the song lyric I put at the top of this post

Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

This is basically how Keith views himself. He honestly thinks he’s replaceable. They could find someone else in the galaxy with his piloting skills. They could find a new red paladin that wasn’t the loner emo brooding hot head. He feels like everyone on the team has forgotten that hey, he’s a person with feelings too. Not just some teenage kid who gets angry all the time for the hell of it. He feels like if he died, he’d die alone. If he died no one would care because he never really amounted to anything in life. He never changed anyone’s life or impacted others the way some have done for him. If he died no one would miss him because he doesn’t even have a family on earth to go back to. He thinks that if he died, everyone would just keep on living and forget about him.

And being forgotten is his biggest fear.

#★ ┊ KEITHISMS. headcanon #I STG IF ANYONE REBLOGS THIS IM GONNA STAB THEM

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kitsunesongs · 8 years ago

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Major Star Wars AU idea

Okay so I’ve had this giant AU idea (well, two AU ideas, one of which is giant and overly detailed) stuck in my head for awhile and need to tell other people about it or I might explode. You seem nice so I’m humbly offering it to you. (Help me tumblr user, you’re my only hope.) Both AU ideas involve a born-as-girl Anakin Skywalker. Anakin is still her name.

The first AU pretty much follows the canon but has several significant changes: 1) Fem!Anakin falls in love with Obi-Wan. He eventually returns her affections and they secretly get married sometime during the Clone Wars. 2) The 501st and 212th and Ahsoka suspect it and ship it. Padmé knows. She ships it too. 3) Padmé and her handmaidens are Anakin’s girl squad. They get together and chat about relationships and injustices in the galaxy. They also go on random adventures trying to right said injustices and get into lots of harrowing and troublesome situations that they somehow always manage to get out of. 4) Ahsoka eventually joins the girl squad. 5) Obi-Wan is in a constant mixture between worry and exasperation whenever they get together. He tries (with the help of Bail Organa) to keep them from causing too much damage, but also kind of lets them be because they actually accomplish a lot. 6) Whether or not Anakin falls to the dark side is up for debate. 7) I also have this really weird idea that Luke and Leia aren’t siblings in this AU. Luke is Anakin and Obi-Wan’s son, but Leia is Padmé and Bail’s daughter. Padmé and Bail get married at some point during the war too and become a force to be reckoned with in the Senate. (Maybe Breha is Bail’s relative or something, idk.) This idea is in part due to the fact that I am very attached to the father/daughter relationship between Bail and Leia and in part due to the fact that I love the concept of Senator Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan–and Naboo too, sort of.

The next AU involving female Anakin is much more AU and much more crazy. It is also really elaborate and long. Sorry. –Anakin is not found by the Jedi. During the events of TPM Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan manage to get to a planet that accepts republic currency and simply buy the needed ship part before continuing with their mission. (Disclaimer: I got inspiration for this from somebody else’s girl!Anakin post. I think that AU is called Unfathered Daughter. I only briefly looked at it so I don’t really know what it’s about. So that’s where the similarities and borrowed ideas end as far as I know.) - At some point Ani starts a revolution that results in the freedom of all the slaves of Tatooine and the formation of a new governing system. - The freed slaves put Anakin in charge of the planet. She starts reforming Tatooine and determines to spread freedom across the galaxy. That is her mission. - Shmi lives. She is the voice of reason and sort of advisor. She may end up married to Cleigg at some point because I firmly believe that Owen and Beru need to be apart of this story somehow. - Anakin develops a close relationship to Owen and Beru, they become like siblings to her and are an important source of support. - Kitster is around and is also like a sibling to Ani. He acts as her right hand man. - Once Tatooine is stable, Ani begins to try and start revolutions on other Outer Rim planets but finds that she doesn’t have the resources or man power to do so. Tatooine is still a dustball planet after all. - This is where the Jedi come in. The Order finds out about her efforts and they want to help end slavery and bring justice to these systems. However, because of their close ties to the Republic (and some more recent legislation courtesy of Palpatine) they are technically not allowed to get involved. But this is important to them, so after a lot of digging and research they manage to find a loophole that allows them to help. - The loophole? A marriage between a Jedi and Anakin, head of the resistance. (Don’t ask me why, I haven’t thought it through. That’s just the way it is.) - The chosen Jedi ends up being Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. (Again, don’t ask me why. I don’t know.) - Side note: In my mind there is only a 5 year age difference between Obi and Ani in this AU. It just works better in my head for this story. Plus, it kind of provides extra opportunity for a baby-faced, clean shaven young Obi-Wan. - So, Anakin and Obi-Wan set aside personal feelings about this and get married for the sake of the resistance (which I’ve been calling the Freedom Alliance btw). Marriage of convenience trope all the way. Then, they start working together to help people in need and to bring freedom and justice to the galaxy. They travel from planet to planet starting revolutions and helping to set up democratic governments. - The revolutionaries and the Jedi Order work very closely together throughout this and learn a lot from each other. They develop very strong friendships and alliances with each other. - True to form, Anakin falls in love with Obi-Wan hard and fast. She then takes up the personal mission of wooing her husband. - Now, Obi-Wan is super perceptive and is great at reading people–except when it comes to other people admiring him. He is too humble/self-conscious to really believe that people might genuinely admire him. Thus, Ani’s efforts to woo him go right over his head. One one hand, Anakin finds that really frustrating. On the other hand, she finds his obliviousness endearing. It’s quite the dilemma. - Meanwhile, Obi-Wan does fall in love with her but he’s still a Jedi so he refrains from doing anything about it. And of course he has all of those feelings of guilt and inadequacy because Jedi are not supposed to love. - Thus they both end up pining for each other even though they are married and together a good majority of the time. - Obi-Wan teaches Anakin to dance. I headcanon that most Jedi learn various traditional dances to assist them in negotiations and political functions, and for some reason Obi-Wan decides to teach them to Ani. It’s not easy at first because dancing has negative connotations for her (she remembers how other slaves were forced to dance for their masters’ entertainment), but Obi-Wan helps her to understand the difference between those slave dances and what he terms “real, proper dances.” He shows her how such dances rely on equal partnership and mutual trust and she learns to trust him enough to let him lead her. - He teaches her to swim too, when they are on a planet with water. - Ani and Obi end up with a force bond. Obi takes it as a sign from the force and low key starts teaching her force control and lightsaber techniques. - Eventually the Jedi find out about the clones. The Freedom Alliance and the Jedi are horrified and immediately set about giving them their right to choose. And they are able to do so since there isn’t a big galactic war going on because they have been unknowingly messing up Palpatine’s plans for years. - (Sidious is constantly stewing in fury and has all of them on his hit list. Especially Ani and Obi. Assassination and kidnapping attempts are common. Lots of shenanigans with bounty hunters, assassins, and various Sith/dark force users ensue.) - (Shenanigans with pirates are also common–they live in the Outer Rim after all. Obi-Wan is just so done with it and Anakin is protective.) - Anyway the clones all become citizens of the Freedom Alliance and get to choose how to live their lives. A lot of them settle into civilian life, but a lot decide to join the army in order to support and help the cause that gave them their freedom. - Most end up under the command of Jedi, who they have a lot of admiration for due to their role in helping the clones. They form very strong relationships based on mutual trust and respect. - Ahsoka joins Ani and Obi’s little family around this time. (I haven’t figured out why yet. Maybe she ends up as Obi’s padawan.) - Then, a couple years into their marriage, Obi-Wan and Anakin go on a trip to Coruscant for some kind of political reason. - Anakin meets Padmé and they become bffs. Obi-Wan is long suffering. - Obi-Wan gets some revelations on this trip courtesy of Qui-Gon (who is still alive) and Yoda. - Apparently when he was an Initiate there had been more than one Jedi interested in taking him as a padawan but Yoda was determined for him to be Qui-Gon’s padawan so he’d guided them away from it. That whole Bandomeer incident could have been avoided. And Qui-Gon reveals that Obi-Wan had been ready for knighthood at least a year before Qui-Gon actually suggested him for the Trials. He hadn’t been ready to let Obi-Wan go. Both Yoda and Qui-Gon had since acknowledged their mistakes and take responsibility for their actions by apologizing to Obi-Wan. - Obi-Wan being Obi-Wan of course forgives them and they all go about healing the rifts created by those mistakes, but the world as he knows it has been shaken. All those years he had thought that he was inadequate and not good enough, and as a result he has these low self-esteem issues, but it turns out that it wasn’t really his fault? The whole thing causes him a lot of hurt and confusion that he has to work through. - Ani finds out a lot about Obi’s past during this and feels a lot of indignation and anger on his behalf. - But this all kind of works out because not long after Obi-Wan realizes his mentors can be fallible and that the Jedi Order is wrong about some things. Some things like attachment. - So soon enough he just goes,“Oh what the heck I’m already married to her anyway” and tells Anakin that he loves her. She is overjoyed and wholeheartedly returns the sentiment. - They both just kind of give up on being subtle (not that Anakin ever was) and are constantly being overtly affectionate with each other. This includes but is not limited to: hugs, kisses (including forehead, cheek, and nose kisses), wrapping arms around each other, and liberal usage of endearments and the terms “my wife” and “my husband.” - The Jedi observe this and it causes most of them to start rethinking views on attachment (among other things) because Obi-Wan is still firmly in the Light–and Anakin too, who has gotten noticeably stronger in the force (and who hasn’t been influenced by Sideous in this AU). Plus, just look at all the good that has come from their relationship. And so, the reforms that started taking root in the Jedi Order the second they partnered with the Freedom Alliance begin to really bring change. - One of the more stern and disapproving members of the Jedi Counsel takes it upon himself to confront Obi-Wan about his blatant defiance of the Code and Obi-Wan is so fed up that he’s like “Well what did you expect?! I’ve always been considered attachment prone–what made you think that marrying me to someone as incredible as Anakin wouldn’t result in attachment?! How?? Does that?? Make any?? Sense??” And nobody really has anything to say to that so they leave it alone and Obi-Wan gets to remain a member of the Jedi Order. - Once the no attachment rule is removed (a ways into the future), lots of Jedi finally have the chance to pursue relationships (e.g. Tahl and Qui-Gon, Aayla and Kit) - Yes, this is also a Tahl lives AU. This is essentially an everyone lives AU. - Except Sidious. He dies. The trip to Coruscant also results in his reveal somehow and he gets taken down. So do his followers. - In the midst of all of this someone finds out about Order 66 and our heroes manage to get all the chips removed by some miracle. Disaster and devastation is thereby averted. - Without the influence of Sidious the Senate is finally able to start putting to rights the mess that he had made of the Republic. Padmé and Bail are at the head of this process. - All in all, it was a very eventful trip to Coruscant. - Ani eventually manages to move the Freedom Alliance’s base of operations and her family from Tatooine to a different Outer Rim world that is full of green plants and streams and babbling brooks. She says it’s because it is a more convenient location but her family knows that it is really because she hates sand. (Some things never change.) - She also eventually steps down from her position as leader of the Freedom Alliance and another is elected in her place. Democracy is one of the foundations of the Freedom Alliance. She continues to go all over the galaxy helping people though. Or, more accurately, Obi-Wan receives Jedi mission assignments and she tags along. - They get involved in all kinds of other do-gooder activities and missions in between said assignments. - Obi-Wan and Anakin have several children and are continually adopting more as the years go by. - Of course Luke and Leia factor in somehow, but I haven’t yet decided whether or not that Not Siblings idea carries over to this AU. - Potential adoptees: Han Solo, Lando Calrissian, Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, Bodhi Rook, etc. - (Finn/Rey and Cassian/Jyn are ships that eventually happen. Please let it be so.) - In conclusion Obi-Wan and Anakin have the biggest, happiest family in the galaxy and they all travel the universe helping people.

Seriously, I don’t even know where this all came from. I don’t even ship the main ships. (I generally only ship canon ships (especially Obitine) plus Finnrey and Cassian/Jyn.) But please join in me in this disaster I’ve created anyway. Contribute, tear it apart, react–whatever you like. If someone were to write a (clean) fic about either idea it would probably make my week. Just please take it so I’m not by myself in this silly and chaotic but fun and entertaining mess that I’ve got here. ;) ~Anon

#star wars #i got a submission!#fem!anakin #fic ideas #obikin #submission

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19-reason-why-im-trash · 8 years ago

Text

Day 2: Dear One

Here it is~ All my stuff is going to be posted later each day so... but anyway here is a one shot for day 2. *A week after canon events, the kiss, the fight w/she li, etc.* --------------------------- "He Tian, that was an amazing shot!" "He Tian, could you perhaps teach us how to shoot one day?" He Tian wiped the sweat from his forehead as he turned towards his 'admirers'. He smiled towards the six or seven girls who crowded one corner of the basketball court. It was early in the morning so classes hadn't started yet and some of the early risers decided to play a small game of basketball. Soon the small game turned into a slightly bigger deal. Due to boredom before school hours, a crowd had formed in hopes of some entertainment. It just so happened that a majority of the crowd were female and a handful of those ladies were He Tian's followers. He Tian had noticed the number of his fans had dwindled recently. He wasn't surprised but rather curious. Especially given the day's significance. Though he was never one for Valentine's Day. He would have expected the hopeful females to flock towards him, handing him confession letters that would be sadly returned and chocolates to be thrown away once home alone. He wasn't complaining though. Playing perfect was easy for him, yes, but it was also just a hassle during the free hours of the day. On the one side, he loved the attention he was given and on the other, he despised his charisma. He Tian replied in a cheerful voice he chirping, "Sometime when I'm free, I'll help for sure." To which the group quickly exchanged giddy squeals and hurried comments. Some flushed at the excitement of being close to such an amazing boy in their class. And to have him teach them how to shoot like a pro! How dreamy! He Tian smiled dreamily a few times before being called back into the game by his fellow teammates. After fifteen minutes of gameplay He Tian's side won. The group of fan girls cheered whiled the rest of the crowd began to make there way toward their own corners. The teams dispersed a few minutes after as well. He Tian greeted his fans properly before heading towards the locker rooms, he just needed to wash off his face and he'd be fine he had informed. As he walked away from the group he let out a small annoyed huff.Though he had some silence now he knew it wasn't going to last very long. It never did. Reaching the hose outside he quickly doused his hair with water. He wiped the water from his face cooling down slowly. He Tian ran a hand through his soaking hair as he exhaled. It was only Tuesday, he still had three days until he could just be completely alone. Too many days he decided. He Tian then looked towards the digital clock along the school's wall. It was early eight. Thirty minutes until first began. It was also five minutes until his day actually started. He Tian strolled towards the entrance near the locker rooms. It was the 'back entrance' so not many came through usually. However, there was one student that came through due to where he lived. It'd be more work to walk all the way towards the front entrance so he simply came through the locker room entrance. Just as He Tian arrive he spotted a familiar figure approaching. He Tian waited in the shadows of the locker room building as the other passed by carelessly. He Tian then curved around the corner, swinging an arm around the ginger. The other hunched his shoulders before glancing to his side. Seeing He Tian the other allowed his shoulders to fall slightly. He Tian smiled down as the two walked. "Heyo, Don't close Mountain~" Mo Guan Shan grunted in response as he began to chew the inside of his lip. He Tian watched him as he continued, "So you have my gift?" Mo glanced at He Tian, annoyed. "What are you talking about?" In return He Tian gave a sly grin. "It's February 14th isn't it?" He Tian watched Mo's face scrunch up into a nasty expression as he griped, "Don't be gross, He Tian." He Tian laughed to himself as he continued to walk alongside the ginger. They two were oddly quiet afterwards as they approached one of the entrances to the main building. Arm still draped across Mo Guan Shan's shoulders He Tian looked around. Inside the hall were decked out in at least twenty shades of red and pink. Hearts were strung from the doorway, all along the hall, and continued further around a corner. They even had some of the lights covered over with a thin red colored paper. If he was going to say anything about his school staff, He Tian had to say it was a firm believer of "Go big or go home". The two walked down the fuchsia colored hall silently. As expected, most students were still outside chatting in the courtyards rather than in the halls. Within a few minutes everyone would shuffle to class. The hallways were just as silent as the two teens were. The only noises audible were the slight scuffling of sneakers against tile. He Tian let his mind wander as he walked. He noted random things such as how his arm hasn't been shrugged off yet, that the tape holding up some of the hearts were peeling, and that classes didn't start for a good minute. He also noticed that the hallway where the two usually parted, was just up ahead. He Tian slide his arm from Guan Shan's shoulders as he readied himself to turn right. Before departing, Mo Guan Shan grabbed his shoulder. He Tian looked back and rose a brow, watching Mo retract his arm and open his book bag. Within the bag he pulled out a smaller bag. He then tossed it lazily towards He Tian. He Tian caught the bag glancing at it then back at Guan Shan. Mo rolled his eyes as he explained, sounding peeved. "Don't act like you don't know. It's just your lunch fucker, you told me yesterday to make it." He Tian couldn't help the slight upturn of his mouth. He had indeed joked yesterday about wanting a special lunch made for him. Mo had gotten flustered and stormed out of course. It was amusing to say the least. Quirking a playful brow, He Tian replied. "So what did you make anyway?" Mo waved his hand in a shooing motion. "You can find out when you open it at lunch. Now leave me alone," He Tian smirked noticing the lightest blush on Mo's face...Or maybe it was the lighting. "Alright," He Tian replied as he watched Mo turn, starting down the opposite hallway. Before he was out of earshot He Tian called, "Oh Mountain boy you're coming over to my place today." Mo stopped turning slightly."Why can't you ever eat leftovers you fuck," He griped crossing his arms. "Firstly, I do eat leftovers. What do you think I do with them over the weekend? And second, you might want to wash that dirty mouth of yours." Mo rolled his eyes, "Whatever." "Mhm," He Tian hummed watching the other walk away before turning around a corner, out of sight. He Tian then started towards his own class, lunch in hand. —————— "What am I making this time?" Mo asked lazily placing his book bag on the opposing kitchen counter. He Tian followed him, as per norm, and sat on a bar stool behind the island. He looked sideways thoughtfully before smiling. "Something...romantic~" Mo crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. "Which would be?" "Cook my favorite?" He Tian purred, resting his head on his palms. Mo sighed moving towards the cabinets. "If we have the ingredients." And of course He Tian had the ingredients. After he had learned every single ingredient Guan Shan used to make beef stew, he had begun stock piling. Just in case, you know. He couldn't help it really. Truth be told, he was hooked on that stew. "You already had meat thawed out?" Mo questioned glancing behind him at He Tian. He Tian shrugged, watching the other roll his eyes and begin to gather everything needed. "He Tian, make yourself useful and go get a pot." He Tian grinned, "Yes mother~" Then he pushed off of his seat, walked towards the China cabinet. Retrieving the item, he returned to the stove. Plopping the pot on one of the burners. "Here." Mo grunted in return, already cutting up vegetables. Mo worked swiftly, he'd made this dish many times already in this apartment. He Tian had an obsession, if Mo was to be so bold. Within a span of thirty-some-odd minutes the beef stew was done. Both boys made their own plate and began to eat. He Tian sat in his bar stool and Mo Guan Shan decided to sit atop the counter behind him. Mo swung his feet slightly, ever now and then, hitting the cabinet below with a gentle thud. After a few minutes Mo had finished and he had begun to pack up leftovers. He placed his own bowl in the sink with the few dishes he had left the previous day. He waited for He Tian to be finished with his bowl so he could start to cleaning. Within five minutes He Tian had finished. He stood from his seat bringing his bowl and silverware towards the sink. Dropping the items in the sink he stood a small way's away. He leaned up against the At first he had thought He Tian was waiting for him to fuck up. A chance to beat him more like it. After awhile he had gotten used to it, the staring. He had just assumed that He Tian was bored and was just mindlessly watching him clean. Turns out He Tian was actually observing him. He had pointed out one day that, apparently, Mo always started it the forks and ended cleaning the spoons last. Guan Shan himself had never really noticed it, he just cleaned. As he did every time he came around. Cook, clean, shop, repeat. He couldn't complain as much as he wanted though. He Tian did pay him and the pay wasn't bad. Maybe that's why he kept coming around. For the decent amount of money he received. "I appreciated the meal by the way, Guan Shan," Mo looked to his side. He Tian was meeting his eyes, still leaning against the counter. Mo puffed mockingly. "That's new." "Hm? What's new?" Mo dried his hands off as he turned towards He Tian. "The fact that you appreciate something." He Tian smirked oddly as he replied,"Carrot-top, I appreciate a lot of things, I'm just not vocal about them." "And when are you ever vocal?" He Tian grinned, a hidden slyness underneath. "Only when it's from you, Red." he purred. Mo felt his face heat. Instead of saying anything else he decided it best to focus on other things. He stacked the dishes and carried the arm full towards the China cabinet. He rested them along the table in front of the cabinet and began to put the dishes in their designated areas. This was when he was in peace, mindlessly cleaning. That is until. "Why'd you run away, Guan Shan?" Mo jumped as arms wrapped around his waist. Looking to his shoulder he saw He Tian's dark hair laying atop it. Staying silent Mo stood still. He Tian tilted his head. His nose was a few centimeters from Mo's neck, his breathe floating across the skin there as he spoke."C'mon don't get tight lipped on me," In the corner of his eye Mo could see He Tian tilt his head up some, he could see that he was staring at him."Guan Shan?" Still Mo kept silent. He Tian nuzzled his nose into Mo's neck trying to fish out a response. Which he received, a red faced ginger. He Tian stopped and looked up at him again. He gave an odd expression as he replied in a, very poorly attempted, flustered tone. "You're not going to make me say it are you?" Mo looked down at his shoulder annoyed. "He Tian, why do you have to be so--" "I love you." Mo feels his eyes widen to the size of plates. His mouth suddenly runs drier than the Sahara and his brain has gone silent. As his brain malfunctions he manages a weak, "..What.." "I love you," He Tian states again. Mo feels himself be pulled a little closer to He Tian chest. Still not being able to form some more intelligent sentences he barfs out a, "...He Tian, you can't just...say shit like that," To which he received a, "It's true." 'Just what the hell does he think he's saying? You can't just..' Mo sputters to himself. He doesn't have a clue where to attack this from. "C'mon now, don't leave me here--" He Tian starts. "You can't just fucking say that!" Mo shouts, shaking He Tian off him violently. He moves away from He Tian gripping at his hands, feeling them run cold. He Tian stares at the back of Mo. he'd seen this before. He didn't like where this was going. He didn't want to see this again. Just as he feared he watched Mo Guan Shan tremble slightly. His shoulders began to shake and he began to rub his face. There it was. There was that little ping again. It was small but painful. He Tian would never mistake it. This wasn't like the other times he had seen Mo cry. The other times hadn't been full of true sorrow. He had only seen that cry once. But he had regretted it immediately after. He Tian carefully walked towards Guan Shan. He walked around his back coming to see Mo's head down, tears staining his face already. He Tian sighed. "..So emotional, Red." He then did something very uncharacteristic. He outstretched his arms patiently. "Here." Rubbing at his eyes MO's glances at He Tian's arms. He bitterly remains still. Looking away from He Tian to make his point clear. Instead, He Tian shakes his head. He moves forward and gently takes Mo into his arms. "Just cry. I won't see you and you don't have to worry about anything." Mo stays silent and He Tian prepared to be thrown off again. But, instead, Mo huffs sadly before laying his head on He Tian's shoulder, his face against He Tian's t-shirt. He Tian holds Mo closer to him as the other lets out an audible sob. He Tian stands stiffly. He obviously wasn't used to consoling so this was another new experience to him. Opting to be caring, he awkwardly pats Mo's back. Mo lets himself ease into the touch. Seeing this He Tian continues gently. "Why do you do this?" Mo croaks out from He Tian shoulder. "What Guan Shan, I do many things." "This..." Mo tilts his head his head away from He Tian's neck. "You pounce on me and then you're all gentle afterwards." Now it was He Tian's turn to be silent. He knew exactly why he did this. In fact he did it for so many different reasons he could pinpoint a single one. He just...did it. But he knew that wasn't going to give Guan Shan the closure he needed. Instead he close the reason that seemed to fly through his mind quite frequently. "I don't know boundaries. And as soon as I step over one I feel the needs to show..." He hesitate. How exactly was he supposed to put this? Mo knew he wasn't capable of caring. Or at least he believed he wasn't. He Tian lowered his tone, calming his voice to soothe the other. "I was taught that talking wasn't what left people remembering you. That actions speak louder than words." Slowly he began to rub into Mo's back absent minded. "And all my actions are sloppy and impulsive." "Liar." Mo sniffled. "You charm practically the whole school? Why are your actions pre-thought out then?" "Because they don't distract me." He Tian answered truthfully. Mo leant back in He Tian's arms. Coming eye to eye he gave a sour expression. "So then..what? I'm distracting?" "Yes." "Compared to what? I'd think all those girls gnawing at your ankles is more of an distraction than I am." Mo hissed giving another sniffle. He Tian gave an earnest look. "They don't distract me with the way they talk, or the way they act. They are all the same no matter their appearance." "I don't follow." Mo complained looking away from He Tian. "Look, it's like reading the same book over and over again. The second time you may caught something you didn't the first time. And the third time you take it slowly so you can truly imagine the picture. The fourth, fifth, and sixth time it gets repetitive and you can no longer enjoy it. You've seen it to many times before." He Tian made sure to look straight into Mo's eyes. He had his full attention and he continued, "Then you get a new book you might finish. New chapters, new thoughts, new words. Something fresh and mysterious." He Tian paused allowing Mo to shift but not move away. "I've gotten my new book. And I've skipped some chapters sneaking glimpses that I shouldn't have. Trying to understand the story without reading the vitals." He Tian watched Mo's face for an clue as to what was fogging behind his eyes. Mo slowly closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Your metaphor is weird. In short, you fuck up." "I did." "Out of impulse." "Yes." "Because I'm distracting." "Indeed." "You're so fucking complicated." Mo replied dully, planting his head against He Tian's shoulder once again. He Tian stayed quiet. He wasn't sure if Mo had noticed himself but the dampness on his shoulder had ceased. Then He Tian felt arms come up under his own. Strapping him into the embrace. Mo allowed himself to pull the other close. He Tian was about to question when he heard Mo speak in a whisper. He felt his own face heat up as he heard Mo softly say, "But I can handle complications."

#tianshanweek #day 2 #writing #oneshot #TianShan #he tian #mo guan shan #19 days

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