#but it worked in its purpose his service seemed so short compared to how long i had to draw for

[kevinkevinson]

Jin is Ready for hopecoming. Are you?

[k-reviews]

REVIEW ROUNDUP: KHAKII, BLACKPINK & D.ARK

[ALBUM] Khakii - Tide

8.5 out of 10

Glowing with understated charisma that is backed by technical talent and ear for production, ‘Tide’ is Khakii’s most representative body of work thus far that is inimitably cool. Finding a balance between melodies and bars, Khakii’s ability to weave in between grooves and rhythms is so precisely tailored to a point where it sounds effortless and natural. Khakii surfs like no other over ‘Floating’, keeping up without a sweat next to the legendary Tiger JK who brings a fittingly subtle energy to the bouncy production. Taking strides into light psychedelic sounds and even gospel, Khakii continues to challenge himself, and subsequently come out on top with finesse and confidence. ‘Lost’ and ‘Laundry’ on the other hand show that he has no trouble sounding trendy either, but on his own elevated and irresistibly groovy terms.‘Tide’ dials back a bit on the production compared to his more experimental singles prior, but they’re all arranged with depth and texture, providing lush soundscapes for Khakii to do what he does best over them. ‘Tide’ is a tight little EP that really does have it all, without coming up short or compromising on just about any of its many endeavors. Khakii continues to be one of rap’s most eclectic (and unfortunately overlooked) acts today.

[SINGLE] Blackpink - Pink Venom

3.0 out of 10

An event as always, Blackpink make their long awaited return ahead of their second LP, ‘Born Pink’ with ‘Pink Venom’ - which by all intents and purposes is a standard Blackpink affair. Blackpink and their production team are operating on diminishing returns when it comes to this hyper-specific and identifiable template of on-trend pop anthems. Again a slight reshuffle of sounds and textures that are well-worn with a few tastes of something new; scarcely is there any excitement to be found in ‘Pink Venom’ despite its volume and density. ‘Pink Venom’ does come with some Blackpink guarantees, and that is found in the song’s highly polished arrangement and robust performances, especially Jennie’s bombastic opening-verse. The hook is sure to be polarizing; while the bassy synth lead has a catchy groove to it, the refrains don’t do much to complement it diluting the section of any measurable impact. Rounded off with what is easily the most throwaway patented YG-song outro yet, ‘Pink Venom’ is all bark with little to no bite. Having a signature sound is important, and can be something to hold pride in, but when that sound refuses to grow is when it becomes a weakness. Blackpink and co. have shown on numerous occasions that they have avenues they can explore, but their representative sound on their singles has remained stagnant for years now. 

[ALBUM] D.Ark - End of Puberty

4.0 out of 10

D.Ark’s debut full-length album arrives as a very hands-on effort that sees the young rapper expanding his repertoire as a vocalist on a lot of the tracks. Vocally, D.Ark really does bring it for the most part with some solid melodies and emotional moments, but the off-the-shelf sounding production provides often boring backdrops for D.Ark to perform over. Pre-release singles ‘Stay’ and ‘Fallin’ seem to be only songs that bring both the vocals and the instrumentals, the former of which, tackles the popular synth-pop trend with commendably more finesse and soul than most. Lead single ‘1&ONLY’ is a sweet sentiment that D.Ark’s boyish performance nicely conveys, but the production just rings hollow and feels anemically underbaked. D.Ark’s more rap-centric offerings on the latter half of the record are bewildering owing to how dime a dozen they are on almost all fronts. D.Ark’s verses are flashy, but seldom do they have personality and the hooks range from serviceable to downright cumbersome. He has had better showings before, so it’s disappointing to see the noticeable step backwards in this regard. ‘End of Puberty’ is a very uneven experience, but it would be wrong to say that there was nothing worth staying for. Some earworm melodies and strong vocal performances lend to the record being a signal of potential, rather than a realization of it.

[askmerriauthor]

Star Wars: Visions thoughts and discussion

Been on a bit of a Star Wars binge lately. Getting ready for the Book of Fett and the return of The Mandalorian soon, just finished playing the Jedi: Fallen Order game, and recently "Star Wars: Visions" dropped on Disney+ (not to be confused with the, like, half-dozen other Star Wars properties that use "Visions" as their title). If you've got the streaming service and haven't watched the series yet, I can honestly suggest you should do so. The whole thing is a series of very short episodes and is entirely non-canon to the setting, so you don't even need a hard understanding of Star Wars to enjoy it.

In fact, it's actually better if you don't know anything about Star Wars going in. Spoilers and brief episode discussion after the jump.

Episode 1: The Duel As soon as I saw a lightsaber umbrella and a R2 droid in a hat, I knew this one was going to be a must-watch.

I REPEAT. LIGHTSABER. UMBRELLA.

Solid kick-off for the short series. Dig the aesthetic, dig the classic samurai vibe (even if it's more of an homage than a direct application of the style), dig the simple story. The particular animation style they chose here was a little wonky but I quickly got used to the visuals and loved a bunch of the design choices too much to care. This one was very action/style-focused and clearly chosen as the leading episode for that reason, which I don't fault them at all for.

Episode 2: Tatooine Rhapsody I'm sorry, I don't recall giving Star Wars permission to be this fucking adorable, how dare you.

The tale of a Padawan survivor of Order 66 who makes a new life for himself not with the power of the Force, but with the power of Rock and Roll and Friendship. Bitchin'. Super adorable, semi-chibi art style that's honestly ringing, like, a dozen different bells in my head for trying to figure out all the different styles it's drawing from. Good fun, if a bit bland in the end. The biggest problem is the music. The story relies on "using music to save the day", which is fine. But when you use that trope you need an absolutely face-melting banger of a performance, which this just doesn't have. An enjoyable entry all the same though. Not bad, not great, cute designs; the quirky story of how Jabba the Hutt got a new slave band to play at his den.

Episode 3: The Twins This entire episode is animated by the team who brought us Kill la Kill and that should really tell you everything you need to know.

You know how if you get a bunch of little kids together, they'll start playing make-believe games where they just invent stories and plot twists and super powers like "I have whatever you can do, but infinity plus 1 better!" shit like that? That's what this short is. It has only the vaguest allusions to the setting proper and immediately hurls every semblance of consistency, logic, and sense out the window with both hands. It is 1,000,000% style over substance.

Okay, y'know what, no, that's not enough to describe the utter insanity this episode is. All I can find online is pictures of the main villain character pulling a General Grievous impression or the protag snaring lightsaber whips on his lightsaber, but that is fucking tiddlywinks compared to where this episode goes.

There is a scene in this short where the protag, who is ghost-riding the hood of his X-Wing upside down in space without a space suit, super-charges his lightsaber into a giant rainbow of FUCK YOU GEORGE LUCAS with the power of familial love and fabulousness, using said rainbow super saber to CUT AN ENTIRE STAR DESTROYER IN HALF WHILE ACCELERATING TO HYPERSPEED, all to save his twin sister's life by making her explode in a somehow non-harmful manner.

This short is utterly nonsensical drivel and yes I would like more right the fuck now, please and thank you.

Episode 4: The Village Bride Wait, we're actually trying to tell a reasonable story in this series? Sorry, I was still on a sugar high from the previous episode. Lemme sit down.

The Village Bride is great. Excellent short that's just dripping with atmosphere and a slow, purposeful pace to its writing. It's short and sweet with little focus on the Force-using characters themselves, which actually serves to its credit. Even in the Star Wars universe, the Ainu people can't catch a fucking break. Easily one of my favorites in the whole run.

Episode 5: The Ninth Jedi The fact that two characters in this short have Sasuke's haircut was extremely distracting. But I actually really enjoyed this entry overall.

Despite playing extremely loose with the established lore around how lightsabers work, this episode over all others really embraces the original setting and tells a slow-burn story about the potential revival of the Jedi Order. A little meandering at times, but it's a solid piece and well worth exploring. Of all the shorts in the series, this one has the greatest potential to actually continue on as a standalone series or be folded into the canon franchise. Main protag is an adorable bean and I love her.

Episode 6: T0-B1 This episode is simultaneously a love letter to Astro Boy and a giant middle finger to Star Wars lore purists.

The tale of an imaginative Droid named T0-B1 who dreams of becoming a hero like the Jedi he's heard so many stories of. This short gets extra credit for being so unyieldingly stylish and charming. On the surface of its presentation and story choices it seems like it doesn't know anything about Star Wars lore, but it's actually packed full of some pretty deep cuts that show the folk behind it do know what they're talking about and just don't fucking care what purists have to say. The entire thing is just "Yeah, I'm ignoring your lore, but I'm doing it in a fun way that makes the setting more interesting, and I'm so genuine about it that you can't be mad at me". I can respect that. Plus the old dude in that screenshot is an armless Jedi who's retired to be a botanist and that's just fucking cool.

Episode 7: The Elder I'm Episode 1, but better.

This one. This shit right here. This is the good shit.

I'm sure y'all have heard before that Star Wars is directly inspired by Kurosawa and samurai films in general, but The Elder really digs into that hard. Where Episode 1 styles itself after a samurai tale, Episode 7 is a samurai tale. Subdued, methodical storytelling, slow-burn pace, charming dialogue amid believable characters, and a truly intimidating villain who provokes a brief but striking duel. This is my vibe. I crave more of this. Far and away the best short of the entire series.

Episode 8: Lop and Ocho Oh for fuck's sake, there's going to be so much porn of this bunny girl character, isn't there?

This entry is another that kind of meanders with the story it's trying to tell and plays very loose with the lore. It reimagines a lot of what we know of the Jedi/The Rebels and Sith/The Empire into a feudal faction-based conflict akin to what you'd see in a period samurai drama. Modernization and callous industry crushing the spirit of the people and breaking apart families. A decent work overall, but nothing really all that impressive in the end. It takes too long to get going and then peters out halfway through its pay-off for some reason.

Episode 9: Akakiri The fact that I had to look up this episode's name and scenes online and still could not remember anything about it should tell you a lot.

The series ends on a downer with the dramatic tale of a fallen Jedi who sacrifices himself and succumbs to the Dark Side. Turning evil for... the greater good? Wha? Had some pretty neat visuals, but I genuinely cannot remember a damn thing about this episode or its characters. Big swing and a miss in terms of impact.

[cakesunflower]

Know Me [C.H. One Shot]

A/N: Hellloooooooo! Here is the awaited Trust Fund Cal!AU. As always, I did not expect for this to get so long. 29,893 words to be exact. I kind of hate myself for it but, like, whatever. Grab a snack (or a whole meal idk) while you read!

P.S.: Nura’s name is pronounced Noo-rah. P.P.S.: For those of you who don’t know, “beta” is Urdu for “child.”

Happy reading babies!!

People were predictable. That was one of the first things Nura Ansari learned when she first started working at the Little Palm Island Resort and Spa when she was sixteen. Nearly six years on the job and she’d developed the skill of reading people; just one sweep of her gaze and knowing exactly the kind they would be. The resort was a luxurious one, its patrons that of high celebrity rank or families with loads of money to throw around that wouldn’t make a dent in their bank account once it was gone. She could pick apart the parents who didn’t care what their kids got up to, the younger crowd with the sponsors booking them the finest room the resort had to offer to show it off on their social media garnering millions of followers, those who legitimately wanted to enjoy a family vacation, and everyone else in between. Different people, all ultimately the same beyond the surface.

But despite the exasperation she often felt with most of her encounters, Nura had learned to become patient, as well. Had perfected a smile fake enough that it seemed real—or maybe she was only given that illusion, seeing many of the patrons were blind to everything but their good time—and had become capable of accommodating the most difficult of customers. She started off as a lifeguard before moving onto waitressing and bartending, a job she came back to every summer since she turned sixteen. Hopefully, this was her last.

“Look alive, Nura.” She straightened her back immediately at the sound of Patrick, her co-worker’s voice, exiting out of Tumblr that had been opened up on her browser. This morning she was covering Elaine’s shift at the front desk, and would be off by two and would have the day to herself until her waitressing shift from seven to midnight started. 

Sticking the orange flavored gum to her mouth, Nura drew her attention to the guests approaching them, sharp eyes taking in the group of four guys and three girls. They rolled in with the breeze that engaged the plants by the door in a dance, the scent of sea salt one Nura’s nose had become numb to over the years. The early afternoon sun was high in the summer sky, the glass walls of the lobby allowing for the bright sun rays to bathe the room, the wooden and glass furniture glimmering amidst it. If she listened closely enough, Nura would be able to hear the swishing of palm trees right outside, or the relatively distant waves of the ocean. No matter how many years of this job Nura had under her belt, those were sounds she would never grow tired of hearing. Ironic, given that she’s trying to get out. Not just the island, but Florida as a whole.

The group of seven were giddy, chattering amongst themselves as the sounds of their voices carried throughout the open lobby, taking advantage of the welcome cocktails Amber was offering them by the door. The girls were carrying their totes and guys were each wearing backpacks, and Nura caught sight of Mattie and Rob, the two bellhops, each rolling in with a cart full of luggage. Nura’s eyes shifted back to the group approaching the front desk, taking them in in all the glory of their glowing skin and shining hair and bright smiles. She couldn’t forget the designer clothes that, not for the first time, made her feel inadequate in her uniform of the resort’s signature baby blue button down tucked into a black pencil skirt that stopped above her knees. 

Nura swallowed down that unwanted thought that was good for nothing but putting herself down. Comparing her appearance to that of others was something she’d put an end to years ago; she had to, in order to work this job. So she put on her smile, gaze shifting to the guy in front of the group, whose head was ducked as he used his free hand to dig out his wallet, the glass already half empty in his other hand. “Good afternoon, welcome to Little Palm Island Resort and Spa,” she began, the rehearsed speech rolling off her tongue effortlessly despite manning the front desk not being her priority. “I’m Nura, can I—”

“Yeah, can you get us checked in quickly, please? Four Island Grand Suites, all under the name Calum Hood.”

She instantly clamped her mouth shut just as the glass clinked on top of the counter which it was rested on, the familiar vein of irritation being picked at when the dark haired man in front of her dropped his I.D., credit card, and phone with the reservation confirmation pulled up in his e-mail. Nura’s gaze dropped to the items in front of her, a silent breath inhaled through her nose before she lifted her gaze, brown eyes meeting unapologetic brown.

Patrick was standing right next to her—she wished they’d gone to him instead.

Willing for her smile to remain on her face, Nura pulled the items towards her, hating that she allowed herself to take in the man before him. Tattoos inked around his skin, shown off by the short sleeved black Guess shirt that hugged his torso tightly, tucked into a pair of jeans Nura knew only someone who was accommodated to hot weather could wear in their spot of Florida. She looked down at the picture on his license—a California license, which made sense to his comfort in clothing choice—before glancing up to back at his face.

He wasn’t even looking at her, instead showing off the sharp line of his jaw as he listened to whatever the tall blonde guy was saying to his right. Even so, Nura picked up on the spark of amusement in his dark eyes, framed by long lashes, despite the absence of a smile from his plump lips. She itched to reach for her iced tea sitting under the table to flush out the thought of how handsome he was in the softness of his face and the contradictory sharpness of his features. Inviting and unforgettable. 

Nura turned her attention to the computer, pulling up his reservation order with a few clicks of the mouse. “Sorry about him.” She looked up to see one of the other guys, black hair contrasting starkly against hazel eyes, stepping up with a dimpled grin on his face and an arm draping around the first guy—Calum’s—shoulders. With a hand coming up to pat at Calum’s chest, who in turn shot a mildly irritable look towards his friend, the guy added lightly, “Apparently he didn’t nap enough on the near five hour flight.”

She didn’t miss the way Calum’s eyebrows lowered, wondering if it was for the truth behind his friend’s words or the fact that someone else was accounting for the snappy first impression he’d made. Calum’s eyes swept over to her, and she caught the very moment he finally saw her properly. Nura’s eyes were sharp, didn’t miss a single thing, catching the relaxation of his eyebrows with a blink of his eyes and the ever so subtle part of his lips.

He saw her, and yet he didn’t apologize for cutting her off or the impolite way he’d done so.

The two of them were caught in a brief lock of gazes, and Nura fought the dry smile from quirking at her lips because she knew she wasn’t going to get an apology out of him. She doubted he even knew what he’d be apologizing for. So instead she brought back her customer service smile and rather than acknowledge the brief, awkward encounter, she read off the reservations Calum had made just a week or so ago.

Nura tried not to scoff at the duration of their vacation—lasting the entire three months of summer. Which made sense, given the total that she’d caught a glimpse of at the bottom. The suites they reserved cost a little over a grand a night, each. Toss in four of those, all for a three month long stay? It cost more than her four years’ attendance of university combined.

The hum of chatter between the group never ceased, and Nura promptly ignored the gaze she felt burning a hole in her face as she made sure everything was in order before reaching in the drawers to pull out the appropriate keycards for every suite and their respective card holders. Nura finally looked up, offering the cards to the man before her, who couldn’t be that much older than her. She smiled, professional and polite, as she said, “Here you go, sir.” His eyes, deep and dark and intense, never wavered from hers. Nura didn’t back down, either, despite feeling something unfamiliar tickle her in the pit of her stomach. “Mattie and Rob over there will show you to your suites. Enjoy your stay.”

Calum picked the cards out of her grasp, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers as he did so, finishing off the rest of his drink and Nura was surprised that she had to fight herself from observing the way his throat worked. He put the glass down and as he held out the other cards for his friends to take, all of them voicing their thanks before walking away from the reception desk, Calum lingered.

He offered a nod, a subtle gesture with ducking his chin, the corner of his lips just barely lifting up to showcase what others probably found to be a charming smirk. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Nura.” Her name was slipping past her mouth without much thought, jumping at the opportunity to give herself a name. She refused to be boiled down to what was supposed to be a term of endearment but essentially had her nails curling into her palm. If it came from a significant other, that was fine. She encouraged it. But not from strangers who called her as such for the purpose of being patronizing. Her smile remained, though steely to match the hardness of her eyes. “My name’s Nura.”

Calum eyed her for a moment. If he hadn’t expected that from her, he didn’t let it show—and he was good at it. Instead, he scoffed, hitting the card he held with a finger as he said, almost boredly, “Noted.”

He turned, then, following his friends out the doors to follow Mattie and Rob to where their bungalows were on the island. They disappeared the same way they came, a chorus of chatter amongst them, absent of the deep voice of Calum Hood as they went. When they were gone, Nura let out a huff, finally picking up the iced coffee under the table as the cubes swished in the confined space of the cup before she took a long sip.

“So?” Patrick spoke up for the first time, prompting her to look at him as she enjoyed her refreshing drink. With a tilt of his head towards the lobby doors, he asked with a wry smirk, “What kind were they?”

Nura licked her lips, looking towards the door as if they’d reappear again. But she’d seen enough. Well—she’d seen enough of one person. And from what she perceived, the least talkative guy out of a group of them, all in clothing Nura couldn’t really afford and didn’t care enough to, anyway, was the only one on her mind as she answered Patrick in the form of a too fitting lyric, “Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends.”

*****

The smoke billowed past his lips in a thick cloud, disappearing into the air as Calum watched it dissipate into the night sky. His gaze flickered back to his friends, the glow of the tiki torches’ flames dancing across their shadowed features as they looked over the menus the host had given them. Calum looked to his left, observing the ocean that lay before them beyond the restaurant deck. The tides weren’t severe, a soft lull of water tickling the shore every so often, the sound nearly muted over the chatter of his friends.

The breeze was calming against his skin, a pleasant contrast to the warm weather. Florida heat was different than Californian heat, enough to prompt him to put on a pair of linen shorts his mother had advised him to pack. He hated wearing shorts, unless they were his athletic pairs and he was on his way to the gym. But jeans felt too restricting, and the whole point of this vacation was to let go. To relax and enjoy the company of the only people he truly enjoyed being around. It wasn’t off to the greatest start, considering he was already on his fourth—fifth?—cigarette today. He was supposed to be cutting off.

As if reading his mind, Ashton huffed to his right. “Hey, come on—none of that,” he said, frowning as he reached over to pluck the cigarette out of Calum’s hand. He let him, watching blankly as his dimpled friend snubbed it out in the ashtray on the table. Leaning back in his chair, Ashton shot him a look. “You’re supposed to be quitting.”

Calum scoffed lightly, arms crossed over his chest as he, too, remained leaned back. The breeze hit his face gently, the flames of the tiki torches dancing against the night sky as Calum shot Ashton a look. “I’m not much of a quitter.” He paused, a corner of his mouth quirking up wryly, feeling Ashton’s gaze on him as he added as an afterthought, “At least, I wasn’t.”

He didn’t even have to look at Ashton to know his friend easily picked up on the resentment coloring his tone, a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of the moment that pushed him over the edge, eventually leading him to book a three month vacation. He wasn’t sure why Dawn getting married had churned at his heart so harshly; they’d broken up over two years ago—she was, by all accounts, free to live her life the way she pleased. Not that she hadn’t been when they were together, but Calum hadn’t expected her to be getting married.

Correction: he hadn’t expected her to be getting married to someone who wasn’t him.

Next to him, he heard Ashton sigh over the chatter of their friends and the other patrons sitting around them, feeling Ashton give his shoulders a squeeze. Calum merely pursed his lips, eyes on the snubbed out cigarette in the ashtray, ears only focused on the gentle crash of waves and crackle of the tiki torch fire as, from the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approach their table.

He didn’t look up, not until he heard them say, “Good evening, everyone. I’m Nura and I’ll be your server for tonight—can I start you off with some drinks?”

Calum head raised, gaze flickering up to the waitress who was also behind the reception desk when they checked in earlier in the day, only this time she was in the glow of the torches and the moon above and wearing a different uniform. This one was a standard white blouse tucked into black pants, a notepad in her hand and her dark hair once again in that slicked back pony tail. An easy going smile was present on her red lips, yet he didn’t miss the way the corners of her lips subtly strained when her dark eyes met his, his presence apparently not one she wanted to be in.

That was a first.

He kept his gaze on her, stubbornly so, as she jotted down the drink orders his friends were saying until, ultimately, Nura’s eyes met his. She expectantly watched him, waiting, and Calum found himself wanting her to wait it out. Testing her patience, almost. He wasn’t quite too sure why he was doing it, but Calum kind of enjoyed the way her pen was already impatiently tapping against the notepad she held. Nura’s eyes twitched into slight narrowing, and he saw the exact moment where she picked up what he was trying to do—it hadn’t taken her long.

Nura remained silent, brown eyes on brown, an intensity present in hers that told Calum she didn’t at all appreciate his childish antics despite the small, polite smile that remained on her lips. And they were childish, Calum knew. Yet he didn’t stop. He wanted to see how long she would hold out, despite the curious and confused gazes of his friends watching them. Their silence was louder than when they talked, the absence of their voices making room for the suffocating quiet Calum had been wanting to avoid.

The curl of Nura’s lips were now twinged with an unpleasantness reserved just for him. “And for you, sir?”

She’d lasted about forty-eight seconds, which in hindsight, was a long time to remain numbingly silent in an unforeseen standoff such as this one. In the expectant pout of her lips, Calum fought the urge to smirk at the annoyance that tightened her mouth as well, clearly bristling at being the one who had to submit first. One corner of his own lips curled up, not entirely a smirk, as he told her, “Whiskey on the rocks.”

She was gone with a sharp turn of her heel and fierce swish of her ponytail, and as Nura left, Luke scoffed from across the table. “Are you trying to get her to spit in your drink?”

His words earned some laughter from everyone else, and Calum merely scoffed as he lifted his left elbow to rest on the bannister of the wooden railing they were seated next to. He scratched at the back of his head leisurely, uncaring as he gave a one shouldered shrug. His gaze only briefly swept over in the direction of which Nura had left before smirking at his friend. “She’s too much of a professional to do that.”

Crystal raised her eyebrows, an amused grin tilting at her glossed lips. “Oh, and you know her so well?”

Calum smirked lazily as the scent of the flames on the tiki torches tickled his nose. It was a familiar combination, mixing in with the salty sea breeze, something he’d smelled whenever he attended a bonfire on the beach back in California. Here, though, it was fresher. More intoxicating. “No, but she never stopped smiling,” he informed, his words prompting Crystal to scoff in disbelief. “She’s the type to smile at customers and talk shit about them behind their back—but she’d never actually do anything to jeopardize her job.”

“Don’t think she’d appreciate you psychoanalyzing her, man,” Michael chortled from next to Crystal, leaned back with his arm draped on top of her chair.

Rolling his eyes with a click of his tongue, Calum waved Michael off. His tone was bored as he responded, “Doubt she’ll care, so long as she’s gettin’ paid.”

Ashton shot him a disapproving look, one that Calum promptly ignored by shifting his gaze back out to the ocean. He heard them move on from his maybe insensitive comment rather than chastising him for it beyond the look Ashton had given him. Calum wasn’t in the mood to listen, they all knew that. So he watched the ocean, the moonlight glimmering against the ripples of the water and the silhouettes of people walking upon the white sand, feeling the urge to sink his own toes into the sand before diving into the inviting water.

Everything about the resort spoke to its tranquility; the rooms didn’t even have television that would pull them into the real world. Wi-Fi availability was a given, sure, but the suites themselves didn’t come equipped with TVs or anything like that, giving guests the opportunity to relax with the help of technology. Calum was ready for it. He didn’t want to reach for his phone anymore, didn’t want to open up his laptop and somehow stumble upon something he knew would upset him. This vacation was to help him get out of his own head; a resort such as this, as well as his guitar tucked away in his suite, should be enough to help him out. Being trapped in his own head never did him any good. Why worry about his ex’s wedding when he could wonder about how many times he could go scuba diving in three months?

He listened to Luke and Sierra talk about their excitement for the impending dolphin encounter they definitely wanted to take part in, silently wondering if he should take a look at the different activities the island offered. It would serve as a distraction, wouldn’t it?

Footsteps caught his attention as Nura approached the table, a tray in her hand filled with glasses. “Here we are,” she smiled, moving around the table to put down the appropriate glass in front of each of them. The act was followed by polite thank you’s spilling from everyone’s lips, while Calum merely met her eyes as he picked up his glass and took a sip.

If Nura was perturbed by his lack of gratitude, she didn’t let it show as she tucked the tray under her arm and clicked her pen. Gaze sweeping over the table, she asked, “Are we ready to order?” Her question was met with a hum of approval and she started with Luke before moving around the table, quickly writing down everyone’s orders. When she got to Calum, however, he was mildly surprised when she raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Would you like another minute?”

Clearly she was still irritated with his earlier antic with the drink order, tilting her head at him as Calum pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, fighting the smirk from appearing. The patronizing tone wasn’t one she tried to hide, and Calum could tell his friends had picked up on it as well, trying not to laugh at his expense. Not that he was embarrassed. Mildly surprised and impressed, but never embarrassed. “No,” he answered with a lift of his chin, not one to break eye contact as he closed the menu and offered her a tight smile of his own. “I’ll have the shrimp and spaghetti skillet.”

Nura didn’t say anything, instead just wrote down his order and Calum wondered if she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes. As she collected the menus, a man standing in the doorway that led to the indoor dining area called her name. “Nura—I gotta step out for a few minutes, mind getting behind the bar?”

She looked over her shoulder, giving him a nod as she answered, “Sure thing, Ted.” Then, smiling at the rest of them, she said, “I’ll be back with your food.”

Before she left, though, Michael raised his eyebrows. “Are you a bartender, too?” With an impressed scoff, he asked, “What don’t you do around here?”

Nura let out a soft chuckle, menus in one hand and the tray in the other. “Uh,” she pretended to consider for a moment with her face scrunched and an eye squinting shut. Calum took a sip of his whiskey, focusing on the spicy taste rather than cute expression of the waitress. “Housekeeping—I hate making my own bed, never mind someone else’s.”

Her response enticed laughter from the table, smiling as she chuckled along before her eyes met Calum’s. He wasn’t as engaged as the rest of them, sipping his drink and threatening to empty his glass before his food even arrived. Nura’s smile lessened as she pressed her lips together, looking away from him and nodding at the rest of them as she repeated, “I’ll be back with your food.”

The air was lighter to breathe once she left, and while Calum didn’t quite understand the tension he created with someone on his first day here, he also didn’t quite care enough to fix it.

Fuck. He either cared too much or not at all. He needed to find a balance, fast, before he drove himself crazy.

*****

Yoga hadn’t ever been something Nura was interested in. She preferred a good cardio workout, maybe blow off some steam with a willing partner in bed, but yoga hadn’t ever been on her radar. But somehow she’d ended up in a yoga class during the fall semester of her junior year at college and decided it was something she actually enjoyed. It woke her up, made her in tune with her body and reveled in the stretch of her muscles. Which was why on the days her shift didn’t start until later, her day would still start with the sun coming up and partaking in morning prayers before leaving her room to make it to the eight-thirty yoga class the resort offered to its guests.

The sessions were held on a large deck facing the beach, the sun already warming them as the crash of waves along the shore served as a peaceful soundtrack behind the voice of the instructor. It was easy for Nura to get lost in the tranquility of the practice, allowing herself this moment’s peace before jumping into the rigorous activities her job required from her. While the rest of the class would go off to enjoy the resort, Nura would be getting ready to dive into an eight to ten hour long work day. Yoga in the morning was just one way to ensure she didn’t lose her mind, even if she was in the company of women who attended classes with dangling earrings and designer leggings and sports bras.

“Heard you had front desk duty yesterday,” Christy, the yoga instructor, hummed once class was wrapped. With a knowing smile, she asked, “How’d that go?”

Nura scoffed, shouldering the bag that had her yoga mat rolled in. “Turns out some people are just as irritable checking in as they are before they get their food,” she responded, keeping her voice appropriately low in case a guest or two heard her.

Christy’s grin widened with a chuckle, reaching up to tighten her pony tail, the action only reminding Nura of having to take out her space-buns when she got ready for her shift. “Don’t you just love humans?”

Nura’s expression fell flat, voice dry as she returned, “Not particularly.” Checking the time on her watch, she let out a breath and said, “Alright, I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you later, Chris.”

Her friend waved in return. “Happy waitressing.”

To get to her own suite, Nura had to trek past a cluster of guest state suites, but it was a walk she enjoyed. The trees stood tall all around her, leaves surviving as a canopy to shield from the sunlight. No matter where you stood on the island, the sound of the ocean could always be heard, soft and steady as the waves fell upon the shore. The salty air tickled Nura’s nose pleasantly, a scent she’d become accustomed to as it mixed in with the fresh citrus smell that clung to the island as a whole. It smelled like home.

It hadn’t always felt that way. Nura had gotten her job at the resort the summer she turned sixteen, serving as a lifeguard and occasionally a waitress. It was a two hour drive from her home in Homestead, and not a journey her mom was particularly fond of her taking, but it was the best job offer she received at the time. The money was good, as were the accommodations, but Nura was only thinking of it financially. Whatever money she didn’t use for herself, she sent to her mom to help out. Being a single mother working as a teacher, supporting two kids, Nura did her best to make it as easy for her mom as possible. 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Nura reminded herself to call her mom when it was both their lunch breaks.

The sound of something melodic pulled Nura out of her reverie, her steps slowing as the strum broke through her thoughts. She furrowed her eyebrows, eyes darting around to trace the sound before her gaze lifted a bit to land on the back porch of one of the bungalows. Nura stopped, eyebrows raising when she caught sight of one of the guests she’d checked in as well as served the other day. The kind of rude one with dark hair and admittedly handsome face—Calum, she remembered.

Her grip on the strap of her yoga bag tightened, head tilting ever so slightly as she observed him sitting on the porch. He hadn’t noticed her, and the porch wasn’t too far from where she was, and Nura noticed the ink that was wrapped around his arm coloring his chest. Calum was oblivious to her presence where she stood on the sandy pathway, head ducked as his fingers plucked at the strings of the guitar he was playing.

It sounded nice, whatever he was playing, a consistent tune that streamed through the towering trees and was carried by the island breeze. Nura couldn’t help but think how it fit him, the broody, kind of asshole musician vibe he apparently owned. She knew it was probably unfair of her to label him so negatively, since she only had two interactions with the man, but Nura had become an expert in reading people based on how they treated her and/or the way they acted in general. You would think people would be their most relaxed self on vacation, but Nura had come to understand that more often than not, these people were running away from whatever their reality was back home.

Nura let out a breath and maybe Calum heard it, or he just looked up at that exact moment, but his eyes landed on hers and she saw the quirk of his eyebrow as he recognized just who happened to be watching him. She watched the way his chin lifted, fingers ceasing their work on the string as the guitar remained resting on his thighs, and even from where she stood, Nura could see the way his eyes narrowed in observation. Could feel his gaze take in the sight of her and hated that wherever his gaze seemed to linger on her body, she felt a warmth spark without her wanting it to.

“This isn’t a free show,” he called out, deep voice carrying a rasp that traveled with his arguably annoyed voice.

Nura bit her tongue, eyebrows lowering into a frown at his words as she ignored the warmth that bloomed in her cheeks. But biting the tip of her tongue didn’t seem to be enough, and it was like Nura lost all control of her mouth as she instantly retorted, “Wouldn’t pay for one, either.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes widening as she heard her own words echo in her ears and saw the way Calum raised his eyebrows. Shit. For six years, she’d become so good at keeping her mouth shut, at always waiting for a guest to be out of sight and earshot if she ever wanted to voice the irritated, mocking thoughts that ran through her head during interactions she could do without. Never had Nura allowed for a resort guest to hear the way she occasionally badmouthed them—she couldn’t help it. Dealing with uptight, self-righteous rich people was difficult and Nura had to blow off some steam some way. 

But never in their presence. And now here she was—talking back to a guest right to their face.

She felt mortified, especially knowing if this got back to her boss, Mr. McNulty, she’d be in deep shit because the guests were basically the gods around here. Nura held her breath in her lungs, eyes wide and lips parting as her frozen brain tried to break out an apology—though, apologizing to Calum, who Nura was slowly realizing looked something akin to amused, was not how she wanted to start off her morning.

Calum scoffed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he gave a challenging tilt of his head. “Excuse me?”

Was amused the right word? He looked surprised at her response, as if no one had ever close to insulted him to his face before. Maybe they hadn’t. Nura had been around the filthy rich long enough to know they only ever were told what they wanted to hear, always kept happy because they had money and were therefore superior to them. A bunch of bullshit, in Nura’s opinion. But she needed the money they were so willing to spend, so she stayed silent and did her job. Until now, it seemed.

Though apologizing to the dark haired man tasted bitter in her mouth and she wanted to do nothing but spit out another dry remark, Nura still managed to stammer out a quick, “I, uh, I’m sorry.” She forced herself to move on, feet moving quickly as the warmth in her cheeks intensified, uncaring of some of the sand slipping into her flip flops as she went and all too aware of the intense gaze burning a hole in her back that seared through her clothes.

Nura could only hope he wouldn’t file a complaint. She knew of guests who did so for much less.

*****

“Aw, man—you gotta stop with that.”

Calum instantly exited out of the app and locked his phone, dropping the device on the space between his legs as he remained sitting on the poolside chair. But it was too little, too late given that Ashton had seen exactly what Calum had been doing on his phone, and the brown eyed man let out a defeated huff as he linked his fingers together. Feeling the need to defend himself, Calum grumbled, “It’s not like I’m hung up on her.”

Ashton pursed his lips, a shadow of a dimple appearing under the scruff he’d decided to sport while on vacation. His hazel eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but Calum knew his best friend well enough to know he wore a look of disapproval. “No, you’re just hung up on the fact that she’s getting married.”

The inside of his cheek would soon start bleeding with the way his teeth were biting into it, lips pursing at Ashton’s words as the sun beat down his back. “It’s not that, either,” Calum responded, voice quiet among the hum of the beach. Ahead of them, he could see their friends enjoying the clear blue water of the ocean, the music playing from Michael’s speaker next to them consistent. 

He could hear the confusion in Ashton’s voice as he asked, “Then what is it?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

He didn’t miss Dawn—Calum knew that for a fact. They’d dated for seven months and Calum liked her enough to stay with her that long, but deep down, he’d always known they weren’t together for the right reasons. He’d wanted a warm body at night, a hand to hold at events, and she. . . She’d wanted his money. Calum had always kept that thought in the back of his head, not wanting to think about it too much but not allowing himself to forget about it, either. He’d known it, his friends had known it, and yet Calum kept Dawn around a lot longer than he should’ve. 

Finding another girl to fall in bed with would’ve been easy. But then it would be the same thing all over again, wouldn’t it? Just another person wanting to get into his pockets. That’s how it was with almost every person Calum met, except for the friends he’d escaped to Florida with. Except he’d escaped with a hollow pit in his chest and a bitter taste in his mouth. He was lucky his friends hadn’t called him out on his less than enthusiastic attitude, even if they’d only been here for three days. The point of being here was to forget about the shit that seemed to weigh him down back home and so far, he wasn’t doing too good of a job at it.

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, dragging his upper teeth along his lower lip before letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know,” was all he could say to Ashton. And it was the truth.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the buzz of the beach around them, and Calum knew Ashton was trying to find some words of comfort, encouragement, support for him. Calum appreciated it, but he didn’t need to hear them—nor did he need them, period. Calum didn’t need pity over a problem he couldn’t even figure out. What he needed was to forget about it altogether.

Apparently Ashton seemed to have the same idea.

“Come on—let’s get a drink,” he declared, clapping Calum’s back as he stood up.

Calum followed him with his eyes as Ashton veered off to the right, before sighing and standing up as well to walk with him. Unsurprisingly, Ashton filled the silence between them, talking about a new band he’d discovered while fooling around on Spotify that he thought Calum would like. And although his mind felt heavy, Calum still remembered the name Ashton mentioned to look them up later. New music was always something Calum was looking for.

They made their way to the beach cabana bar, dodging groups of people playing tanning and kids making sandcastles as they went. The kids were few, Calum noticed. Most of the guests were either people his age, or those older wanting to enjoy a vacation without their kids, probably having left them behind with grandparents or nannies. Calum pursed his lips; that’s how it had been with him. His parents had always been busy with the distillery or some other kind of business that always took priority; loving when they were around, completely absent when they weren’t.

“Hey—Nura, right?” Ashton’s laugh cut through Calum’s thought, forcing him to blink back into reality as his gaze zeroed in on the woman behind the round bar. Oh, great. Calum took in a breath as he gripped the edge of the bar and braced himself on it, watching as the front desk girl-slash-waitress turned to face them. Her pink lips lifted into a smile directed towards Ashton, faltering ever so slightly when her dark eyes met Calum’s. Ashton folded his arms on top of the bar, dimpled and charming smile on his own face as he introduced, “I’m Ashton, and you already know Calum.”

“I do.” She didn’t sound too excited about that, and Calum found himself having to fight back a smirk as she stood in front of them, bracing her own hands on the bar. Unlike this morning when he’d seen her in leggings and a fitted tank looking like she’d just come back from an early morning workout, Nura now wore the familiar white blouse with a name tag. “What can I get for you?”

Before Calum could answer, Ashton said, “Two tequila sunrises, please.” Then, turning to Calum, Ashton continued, “You know what you need?”

Dragging his gaze away from Nura, who’d immediately pulled away to make the drinks, Calum raised an eyebrow at Ashton, voice dry as he rebuked, “Other than a three month vacation?”

His friend chuckled. “Well, that, but also a big ass, five course meal that I’m pretty sure we can set up for dinner tonight,” Ashton said, an excited grin on his face. “A private dinner type of thing right on the beach. That can be done—right, Nura?”

Nura, who had just returned in front of them to place down their drinks, raised an eyebrow at her sudden inclusion in the conversation. She looked at Ashton before shifting her gaze to Calum, surprise evident on her face before she looked back to the dimpled man. “Oh, uh, yes it can. You just give the front desk a call and they’ll set it up for you.”

“Awesome,” Ashton grinned, slapping the bar top with his free hand, the other wrapped around the glass as he pulled himself away from the bar. “Thanks, Nura.”

While Ashton was already walking back to where their friends were, Calum had been pulling out his wallet to pay for the drinks. He placed down the money, eyes drifting to the tip jar that already had a bunch of bills inside. Calum scoffed lightly before pulling out some more bills, folding them up as his gaze lifted to Nura. She was drying a glass, gaze on her own actions, seemingly making it a point to not look towards Calum as she pretended to listen to a conversation some other customers were having on the other side.

A corner of Calum’s lips curled up at her obvious disinterest, arm folding on the bar top to lean forward as he held the folded bills up between two fingers. Nura looked over, raising an eyebrow, and Calum tilted his head ever so slightly. Before he could help himself, he mused, “Unlike you, I’m capable of being nice.”

A surge of satisfaction shot through him at the way Nura’s lips parted at his words, eyes narrowing as she watched him purposefully stuff the bills in the tip jar. She wasn’t hiding the irritation that sparked through her brown eyes, his smug act of kindness one that obviously seemed to tick her off. Nura scoffed lightly, taking two steps towards him, hands braced on the bar and showing Calum the thin silver chain she wore around her neck which hid beneath her shirt. 

He could clearly see the way his words had prickled at her skin, pink lips in a tight smile as she returned, “There’s a different between being nice and being decent. You’re only just barely proving yourself to be the latter.”

Calum scoffed through his nose, his smirk still on his lips despite the shot she’d taken at him—one that did, strangely enough, both amused him and threatened to rile him up. He remained put longer than necessary, brown eyes locked onto hers, momentarily wondering if she was going to apologize for the snappy comment like she had earlier this morning. He wondered if the slight pinkness across the apples of her cheeks was because of the Florida heat or something else.

“Nura.” A voice cut in, and she finally broke her gaze and Calum looked over her shoulder to see another resort employee step behind the bar. “Time for your break; you gonna take fifteen or the full hour?”

Nura was already untying the black waist apron she wore. “Hour. I gotta pray and call my mom,” she informed the other worker, folding the apron under the bar before moving to get out. Calum pushed himself away from the bar, watching as Nura went, sipping his drink and smirking around the straw when she glanced at him over her shoulder before quickly turning and walking away.

Calum chuckled lowly, feeling a bit better than he had before. The pinkness in her cheeks had nothing to do with the heat, he was sure.

*****

“Nura, I need you waiting on the private dinner,” Mr. Gonzalez, the restaurant manager, informed her just as she gave the order for table seven to the kitchen. “Lorraine will cover your tables.”

Nura blinked, not entirely expecting to give up her section to serve just one table. “Oh, but—”

“No buts, Ms. Ansari,” Mr. Gonzalez cut in with a shake of his head. He’d always been a bit of an impatient man. “They specifically asked for you, so go. They’re ready to order drinks.”

He didn’t give her any room to argue, already turning away as Nura defeatedly pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply through her nose. She had a feeling she knew exactly whose private party that was—especially if they specifically requested for her. Tightening her pony tail, she made her way towards the doors of the restaurant that led to the outdoor seating before following the path down to the private area of the table on the beach. As she neared the table, the chatter reaching her ears along with the distant sound of the ocean, her suspicions were proven correct when she recognized Calum, Ashton, and the rest of their friends.

“Good evening, guys,” she greeted, putting on her best customer service smile once she was by them.

“Evenin’, Nura—great seeing you again.” The smug patronizing tone wasn’t lost on Nura as her gaze darted to Calum, who was grinning up at her a bit too widely. Truth be told, if any of them, other than Calum, had been the one to request her service, Nura wouldn’t have minded. From the few interactions she’d had with them, they all seemed like genuinely nice people. Nura knew how to pick them out from the ones who smiled to her face but had less kinder thoughts running through their minds. Calum’s friends didn’t seem like those type—Calum, on the other hand, was a different story.

And as much as she didn’t want to give into his contempt, had taught herself better, Nura couldn’t help but return, a bit dryly, “I’ll bet, especially since I’m told I was specifically asked for.”

Calum leaned forward, arms crossed on the table as he looked up at her from where he sat on the right side of the table, the other end from her sitting next to a pretty blonde haired woman. “You were such a wonderful waitress last time and served us so well—we didn’t wanna mix it up.”

His patronizing words sunk deeply in Nura’s bones, and though she fought to keep the effect of his statement off her face, it didn’t stop Nura from clenching her jaw and tightening her grip on the pen. She noticed the looks the others at the table were sending Calum, silent warnings, but he didn’t seem to care. Why would he? She was just the help—it never mattered to people like him that their words could have any kind of impact, big or small, on the people whose job it was to make sure they were happy.

Her skin was warm, Nura could feel it under his douchey smirk. And while hate was a strong word she never used lightly, Calum was really coming close to it. Who the hell did he think he was, so blatantly poking at her profession? This wasn’t what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, and even if it was, who the hell gave him the right to shit on it? Nura knew people like him; they either built themselves from the ground up, or never had to work a day in their life and were rich off the expense of everyone else.

One look at Calum, she knew it was the latter.

A fire simmering in the pit of her stomach, Nura ignored Calum’s words, forcing politeness into her tone as she asked the rest of the table, “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

They all seemed to slowly snap out of the looks they were sending Calum, one by one telling her of their orders as Ashton took it upon himself to order the first round of appetizers as well. Nura jotted it all down with a riled up flushed face, barely looking at any of them as she quickly said, “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

She turned around to leave, only making it a few feet away when she heard one of the girls say, “Cal, what the hell’s gotten into you?”

At least not all of them were assholes.

Nura didn’t stay long at the table after dropping off their drinks, heading back inside to check on their appetizers before bringing the dishes of a shrimp platter and fried calamari to the table. The minutes of taking their orders for their entrees had passed by in a blur, settling into reality only for the brief moment of telling the blue eyed, blonde guy the specials of the night. She didn’t bother looking at Calum as he told her his order, thought she wasn’t immune to his gaze resting heavily upon her.

A polite, “Your food will be ready shortly,” later, and Nura was gone.

She found herself in the bathroom after dropping off their orders in the kitchen, sighing as she stepped out of the stall to go wash her hands. Her frustration had settled a bit since first hearing Calum’s words, though she still couldn’t believe the audacity of the guy. Just because he had money, didn’t give him the right to basically insult her in front of her friends. And although Nura had tough skin, it didn’t mean nothing got to her. Was it so damn hard to treat another human being with respect?

As she dried her hands with the air dryer, she heard the ladies’ room door open, turning when she heard her name being called. She looked over her shoulder to see the blonde girl from Calum’s table, turning around once the dryer stopped as the woman offered her an apologetic small. “I just want to apologize for Calum,” she said, heels clicking on the linoleum floor of the bathroom. “I’m not trying to make excuses for him, but honestly, he’s normally not so rude.” She was nervously twisting a ring on her left hand, and Nura wasn’t surprised to see the rock that was on her ring finger. “He’s just going through something.”

Nura wanted to laugh. This woman seemed nice, and although she said she wasn’t trying to make excuses for Calum, it sure sounded like she was. Chin lifting, Nura let out a breath through her nose and surmised, “Everyone’s going through something. It doesn’t give him the excuse to patronize others.”

She nodded quickly, and Nura was jealous of how shiny her blonde hair was under the bright lights, or how her blue eyes seemed to glitter as well. “You’re absolutely right.” She offered another small smile. “I just wanted to apologize on his behalf.”

It would be better if Calum decided to take responsibility for his own words, but Nura appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. So she returned the smile with a single nod. “Thank you, uh. . .”

“Crystal,” she supplied, finally naming herself with a grin.

Nura smiled once again before taking a breath and awkwardly gesturing towards the door. “I should, uh, go check on your food.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Crystal laughed lightly, stepping aside to let Nura pass.

Nura made it halfway down the hall of the bathroom before stopping abruptly when someone turned the corner to walk in her direction, teeth instantly pressing together when she recognized Calum. He stopped as well, as soon as he saw her, chin lifting and lips parting as he let out a short yet amused chuckle. The sound irritably poked at Nura’s nerves, no matter how stupidly handsome the guy was.

Pursing her lips, she broke their gaze and continued on her way, determined to make it past him without so much as uttering a word. But Calum seemed to have a different thought in mind, because as soon as there was about three feet of distance between them, he spoke up.

“I’m surprised you didn’t fire back like you’re so fond of doing,” he hummed, effectively stopping Nura in her tracks as her dark eyes met his. Calum looked down at her, full lips adorning that damned smirk as the chain around his neck glimmered under the light. With a condescending quirk of his eyebrow, he added, “Wouldn’t want your boss finding out ’bout your lack of customer service, huh?”

Nura narrowed her eyes, tilting her head as her skin flushed once more in an angry heat. Fuck—what was up with this guy? Arms crossing over her chest, Nura threw caution out the window. She’d already shot back at Calum more than once, at this point, despite her constant professionalism for the past six years, she didn’t quite care. “What would you know about customer service?” she asked, taking the few steps towards him, undeterred by their significant height difference as she looked up at him. 

Nura then pointedly gave him a once over; the chillier weather for tonight warranted the Dr. Martens, black pants, tucked in shirt and leather jacket he wore. And pushing aside the thought of how good he looked—and ignoring the flutter in her stomach at the jewelry he also adorned and how everything looked stupidly perfect on him—Nura scoffed. “I doubt you’ve worked a day in your life. Only someone with a lack of appreciation for hard work would be so casual in basically threatening someone else’s job.”

His eyebrows lowered into a frown, the muscle in his jaw jumping as his expression transformed instantly. With a rasp in his voice, Calum returned, “I didn’t threaten your fuckin’ job.”

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, shaking her head up at him. Of course he didn’t understand the implication behind his own words. People like him had no problem saying shit if it meant they could show off their own superiority, and it pissed Nura off. “Oh, you didn’t?” she asked innocently with a tilt of her head before her eyebrows knitted together in a glare. “Then what was that about my boss finding out about my lack of customer service?” Calum pursed his lips and Nura saw the way his throat worked, saw it in his dark, conflicting eyes that he knew she was right. “Money doesn’t give you the right to look down on others. It doesn’t make you better than anyone else. Now if you’ll excuse me—” She stepped back, neck tense as she took a breath in order to calm herself down, brown eyes meeting, what she could almost say, were disgruntled brown. “—I have to go check on your food.”

She walked past him without another word, without letting him say another word, with shoulders squared and head held high and the image of his taken aback, disgruntled expression seared into her head. Even if the anger swirled in her stomach and her skin was flushed with an indignant embarrassment as she curled her fingers into her palms, nails digging into her skin so her outrage didn’t lift her. Hate was a strong word, and while Nura didn’t feel it for the tattooed man behind her, she did feel it for the way he made her feel like she was lesser than.

*****

Pulling her hair out of the tight ponytail it had been in all day was something short of a sweet relief—she’d only feel completely relaxed when her bra was off, too. But for now, Nura settled for her dark hair falling around her shoulders as she ran her fingers through it, feeling the dull ache of a sore scalp as she approached the still open bar in the resort restaurant. It was late, nearly eleven at night, and most of the resort had cleared out save for the few guests milling around. Nura was off the clock, and that’s all that mattered.

“You look like you could use a drink,” the main bartender on duty, Riley, grinned from behind the bar, already fixing up a drink for her.

Nura huffed, leaning forward on the bar as he made the bourbon on the rocks. “Some toddler almost threw up on me. I think I prefer it when the snakes leave their kids at home.”

Riley sighed dreamily as he slid the cup over to her. “Don’t we all?”

Nura chuckled, raising the cup in silent cheers before taking a sip. Patting the bar top with her free hand, she told him, “I’m gonna get some fresh air. Thanks, Riley.”

He waved her off and she left the restaurant, walking towards the pool area. It was locked off to prevent guests from sneaking inside after hours for safety reasons, of course, but there was one gate that didn’t lock properly and maintenance never got around to fix it. The thought always made Nura scoff in contemptuous amusement, given the status of the resort and the lack of upkeep for this particular gate. But she never said anything, not when she could get into the area so easily. Not to mention the several blind spots from the security cameras.

Seriously. What were they paying millions of dollars per year for? The rich never failed to amuse her.

Nura settled down on a poolside chair, watching the pristine blue water ripple in front of her, glowing with the in-pool lights. The silent hum with the ever-present ocean waves was calming as she sipped her drink, arms resting on her knees and figure crouched forward as she sat. Nura loved sitting by the pool at night when no one was around, the usual busy hum of guests splashing and chattering away something that had gotten tiring very quickly. And with the dark sky above her, glittering with stars, it was a calming way to unwind before she headed back into her room to turn in.

“Drinking on the job?”

Nura prided herself in not letting out a startled scream at the sudden voice, head whipping to her right to follow the sound, sitting up straight when she saw Calum standing over her. He wore athletic shorts and a white and red shirt, right arm wrapped around the neck of the guitar she’d seen him playing the other day. Her heart had began racing, but calmed down when she realized there was no threat—not a physical one, anyway.

She pursed her lips, adopting a bland expression as she quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Do you see the company name anywhere on me?” she retorted tiredly, referencing to her lack of name tag that was now in the pocket of her pants. How did he even get in there?

Calum pursed his lips and Nura looked out towards the pool again, feeling her muscles tense in his presence. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, ever since she waited on his table for their private dinner. After her little confrontation with him in the hallway—which, frankly, she was surprised she hadn’t heard about from her boss—Nura had put on a smile for the rest of the table and didn’t stick around longer than necessary. Saying that she regretted giving Calum an earful would be a lie; something told her he didn’t have many people talk back to him the way she did, and doing so was as much for herself as it was for him. The guy needed to be brought down a peg or two, and although Nura couldn’t be sure it did the trick, it felt damn good to say what she wanted to.

The look on his face had been pretty fucking satisfying, too.

“Can I sit?”

Nura felt her eyebrows wanting to furrow together at Calum’s words, but she kept her expression blank as she lifted the cup up to her lips and plainly said, “You’re the guest.”

She heard him sigh quietly, exasperatedly, before sitting down on the poolside chair to her right as she took a long sip. A silence settled upon them, awkward and heavy and Nura held back from snapping at him for ruining her peace and quiet. Dozens of other chairs around the pool and he had to pick the one next to her. What damn game was he playing?

Nura looked down at her cup, the drink teasing her just as an unfamiliar scent overpowered the chlorine of the pool. Fresh, kind of citrusy, tickling her nose in a pleasant way. Nura bit the inside of her lower lip when she quickly realized it was whatever cologne Calum was wearing; fuck, of course he smelled good. Of course whatever designer perfumed he owned smelled like a fucking forest god or something. It only served to annoy Nura more.

“I wanted to apologize.” Her eyebrows drew together in a frown, not looking towards Calum as his words resonated in her ears. What? “For what I said the other day. I didn’t—I don’t think I’m better than anyone just because I have money.”

There was a tense discomfort in his voice as he spoke, particularly when he acknowledged whatever financial upper hand he had. Nura knew, instantly, she’d struck a nerve when she had thrown it in his face and, truthfully, she was surprised he was even making the move to apologize. She had dealt with many people on this resort, and most of of them never even considered apologizing to the staff for things said and done. And they were meant to just deal with it with smiles on their faces. 

Hearing Calum apologize, especially when he clearly felt so out of his element because of it, was refreshing. And Nura didn’t take that lightly.

“I’m also sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I got here.” Oh, he was still going. This time, Nura did look at him, brown eyes meeting apologetic brown, showing him that she was listening. The guitar was on his lap—he was practically hugging it, like a security blanket, which was oddly endearing—and his features had settled into soft solemnity. With a breathy, sheepish chuckle, he added, “I know I didn’t make the best first, second or third impression but I swear I’m not usually such a—”

“Self-righteous dick?” Nura supplied, unable to help herself and rolling her lips into her mouth, cheeks flushing. He was trying to apologize and she was basically insulting him.

But Calum let out another chuckle, this one more accepting as he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. Then his lips curled up a bit, a ghost of his signature smirk appearing as he added, “I mean, I’m a dick but not that shitty.”

That had her laughing lightly, some of the tension between them rising into the night sky, allowing Nura to relax slightly as she offered a shrug. It was weird, feeling even a little bit at ease around Calum, but she didn’t find herself minding it too much. “Well, I can be bitch but normally not to that extent.”

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Calum allowed his smirk to widen a bit as he said, “Dare I say we bring it out in each other?”

Nura scoffed with a single shake of her head. “If that’s true then there’s no hope for civility between us.”

Calum grinned a boyish, lower lip biting smile that was a bit too handsome on his face, and Nura took a sip of her drink when she noted the sharp lines of the crinkles by his otherwise soft, smiling eyes. “’S going well so far,” he pointed out as Nura swallowed the sip, watching as he raised the little red pick he’d been twirling between his fingers. “You mind if I. . ?”

“That depends,” Nura hummed, feeling the smirk tug at the corners of her lips. “Is it a free show?”

Calum’s eyes danced with a glimmer and Nura pretended it was a trick of the moonlight as his smirk returned and he sat the guitar properly on his lap. She tried not to focus on his biceps or the ink snaking around his arm as he returned smoothly, “On the house.”

Nura suppressed a laugh, though her smile remained as Calum returned it before his attention went the instrument on his lap. She watched his fingers place themselves in what she assumed were the right places—she knew nothing about instruments—before her gaze lifted ever so slightly to his face. His head was ducked, short dark hair unable to hide the concentration that settled on his features as he took a soft, almost inaudible breath—Nura heard it in the quiet of the poolside—before he began strumming.

The melody he played was soft, tranquil tune and Nura couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. The peace she thought Calum had destroyed with his presence was instantly returned with the gentle strum of his fingers, the rings on his fingers glinting with the movement against the pool lights and the moon above. She watched him; watched the way his attention was solely on what he was playing, the movement of his fingers, and the gentle bop of his head that went along with the tune. 

It didn’t go unnoticed how lost he looked in the music he was playing, and it wasn’t lost on Nura how he was creating magic with his fingers. She knew art when she saw it, when she heard it, and although she knew he was playing a song by Coldplay, he still played it beautifully and expertly. And the more he played, the more at ease Nura found herself being, finishing off her drink and leaning back on one hand as she listened to him. Not exactly how she thought she would end the night, but truthfully. . . She couldn’t complain. As surprised as she was, she couldn’t complain.

“Nura, is that you?”

The tune that had softly filled the night immediately ceased as both Calum and Nura looked up, and she felt her jaw tighten when she caught sight of Keith Holt, the pool supervisor, approach them. He was older than her, around thirty, with surfer style shaggy light brown hair and green eyes and a goatee that made him appear a lot older than he was. She felt her grip on the cup tighten, not entirely keen on being in his presence. Truth be told, Keith kind of creeped Nura out, especially since he’d asked her out last summer and she’d said no. 

“Hi, Keith,” she returned, hoping to keep the nonchalance in her tone as he stopped in front of them.

His gaze looked from her to Calum, eyebrows raising before looking back at her. “You know you’re not supposed to be out here after hours,” he pointed out, and just the tone of his voice had her biting her tongue. Like he was chastising a child with the teasing way he spoke in. Trying to be endearing but only coming off as. . . Creepy.

“Right, right, sorry. Won’t happen again,” Nura said, her words falling quickly as she stood up. The less she could be around Keith, the better. Nura then glanced down at Calum, who had been watching along silently, and she took note of the look in his dark eyes; observant, curious. Forcing a smile, Nura said, “Come on, Calum. We should go.”

Calum met her gaze and maybe he saw the mild urgency in her eyes, the tightness of her smile, and Nura was relieved he didn’t protest it as he nodded and stood up. He gave a nod to Keith, lips flat before saying, “Sorry ’bout that, man.”

Keith watched them with sharp eyes, and just as Nura turned to go, he said, “McNulty won’t be happy if he knew you were sneaking in guests to the pool.”

Nura paused, eyes squeezing shut in exasperation and annoyance, feeling the heat of Calum’s gaze on her profile as she refrained herself from snapping at Keith. Two things he always made Nura feel: discomfort and annoyance. Opening her eyes, she planted the sweetest smile she could muster, all too aware of Calum’s gaze as she looked over her shoulder at Keith and mused, “But he won’t know, will he? Please, Keith?”

She never felt guilty for using his strange likeness of her against him. Keith returned her smile, nodding as he said, “Only because it’s you.” Gross.

“Thank you, Keith,” Nura responded before offering him a wave and making her away out of the pool area.

Her and Calum walked in silence for a few moments, and Nura dropped the plastic cup in a recycle bin they were passing by, Calum broke their quiet by scoffing. “You must dislike that guy more than me—at least with me, you’re better at faking nice,” Calum said, a lightness coloring his tone to ease the tension Nura felt in her muscles.

It had worked, surprisingly. As they walked in the general direction of the staff suites in the building behind the pool area, Nura chuckled lightly. “Just get bad vibes from him,” she chose to say. Simple, but true. She saw Calum nod from her peripheral, one hand still securely holding his guitar as he hummed once in acknowledgment. Nura licked her lips, feeling the awkwardness creep in. “Your, uh, bungalow’s that way,” she found herself adding, gesturing towards the right.

Calum followed her gesture with his eyes before nodding, brown eyes flickering down to meet hers as they walked. “I know. Thought I’d walk you back just—you know, in case.”

The sentiment wasn’t spoken but it wasn’t lost on Nura, and though Calum quickly broke their gaze when he spoke, jaw clenching as he looked straight ahead, Nura still felt her heart pathetically skip a beat. The act of walking her back, just in case Keith decided to be a creep. . . It was sweet, far more than Nura thought he was capable of. 

Fuck, he’d just played the guitar for her by the pool. She was either delirious from her long shift, or she truly couldn’t make sense of reality.

They reached the door to her suite soon enough, and as Nura pulled out her keys, the corners of her lips tilted up as she offered Calum a smile. A real, genuine one she hadn’t given him before. “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, and although the kind tone she spoke to him in felt foreign, it didn’t feel wrong. As she unlocked the door, she added with a gentle smirk, “And the free show.”

At that, Calum’s lips split into a smirk of his own, cheeks pushed up and utterly boyish as he looked down at her. She didn’t miss the way his top teeth just barely grazed his lower lip before he said, “Next one’s gonna cost ya.”

Raising an eyebrow as she opened the door, Nura shot back, “When did I say I wanted another one?”

A mock expression of hurt crossed Calum’s face, sucking in a breath through O shaped lips before he clicked his tongue. “Alright, ouch. Thought we were good now, Nura.”

She smiled, playful and mischievous as she entered her suite, flicking the light on and turning to face Calum, who stood out in the hall. He had his eyebrows raised, waiting for her response, his short laugh echoing in the hallway when all Nura did was hum back, “Maybe,” before shutting the door to end the strange night.

*****

“Fuck,” Calum breathed out, using the towel to wipe the sweat he could feel running down his back as he and Luke exited the resort gym. His triceps, chest and quads had a delicious soreness in them after the workout he and Luke decided to take part in, water bottle nearly empty from downing it. Next to him, Luke chuckled as Calum added, “That felt good.”

“Much fucking needed,” Luke agreed, using his own towel to dab at his face, letting out a sigh of relief when they stepped out of the building and out into the night. The sun had long since set, the resort fluttering with the sounds of the waves and crickets chirping, and the mildly chilly breeze felt refreshing against their warmed, worn out skin. “Hey, is that Nura?”

Calum looked at Luke, noting his narrowed blue eyes looking off ahead, and Calum followed his gaze until his own landed on the woman in question. His eyebrows raised as he saw her, taking a second to recognize the dark haired woman in something other than the resort uniform he always saw her in. Calum’s footsteps slowed without really meaning to, eyes taking in the black skirt, heels, and bandeau top she wore so damn well as her long dark hair danced lightly in the breeze. Shit.

“Hey, Nura!” Calum blinked at Luke’s sudden call, watching as Nura looked the other way before finding the two men who were approaching her—Calum more reluctantly than his best friend. “You look ready for a night out.”

Nura smiled as she took a few steps towards them as well, fingers playing with the chain of the purse that hung off her shoulder. “I am,” she confirmed and Calum distracted himself by pulling his shorts up higher on his waist and checking the time on his phone. Anything to keep himself from letting his gaze linger too long on the pretty woman in front of him. “A couple of the staff and I are going to this club a few blocks away.”

“Really?” Luke hummed, eyebrows raising and Calum had to only glance at him briefly to know what was coming next, an excited glimmer in his blue eyes. His smirk returned, a dimple popping. “Which one?”

Calum wasn’t surprised when about an hour and a half later, he ended up with his friends at the club Nura had mentioned. It wasn’t how Calum had expected the night to go after his gym session with Luke, but he hadn’t been surprised when his friends had immediately agreed to Luke’s proposal of going out, and as soon as everyone was ready, they were piling into Ubers and heading over.

Calum sat in the middle of the U-shaped couch, the table in front of him holding bottles and glasses that glimmered against the strobing blue and purple lights that flickered with the beat of music. Green laser lights flashed against Calum’s eyes every few minutes, but at this point, he’d become accustomed as he sipped from his Negroni, licking his lips as he lowered the glass and let his gaze wander.

His friends were around him, Luke and Sierra on their feet as they danced in their VIP section, singing along to the music while the rest of them remained seated on the couch. It was busy in the club, unsurprising given that it was a weekend as well as the summer, and still Calum found his gaze searching through the silhouettes of people in the dancing crowd or by the bar, trying to catch sight of the familiar face he knew to be there.

He stood eventually, feeling the mild strain in his muscles as he did so, letting out a soft grunt as he decided that he needed to stretch his legs. And if he happened to see Nura somewhere in the crowd, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Calum sipped his drink as he moved around, avoiding as many people as he could from rubbing up against him, shoulders shifting and moving along the wall as he went. His leather jacket stuck to his body, the heat of the club and the dozens of bodies around him only contributing to the warmth he felt, but Calum didn’t mind much—especially not when his eyes finally landed on who he was searching for.

He stopped where he stood, catching sight of Nura leaning by the bar and before he knew it, Calum was making his way over. He shouldered his way through, large frame giving him an advantage to move forward. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so adamant on seeing her, but his feet were moving without much thought and before he knew it, he was right by the bar, up to her left.

Nura seemed to be trying to get the bartender’s attention, and Calum licked his lips after taking a sip of his drink, arms folding on the bar. She didn’t notice him yet, an exasperated sigh escaping her when the bartender once again evaded her, and Calum smirked lightly. “We’ve got bottle service if you’re sick of waiting.”

She glanced over at him, eyebrows lifting in realization before she let out a gentle scoff. Nura stood straight, left hand on her hip and the other braced against the bar as she tilted her head up at him. “Then what’re you doing here?” she rebutted.

Calum looked down at her, doing his best to keep his gaze fixated on her glimmering dark eyes—never daring to go lower in fear of focusing too much on her red lips. She looked gorgeous, and although her eyelashes were long and her face was glittering with makeup, Calum knew she looked stunning all of the time. Hair tied back or loose around her shoulders, face full of makeup or completely bare—Calum could easily admit that Nura was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. Ironic, given how much of a dick he’d been to her.

His people skills had definitely taken a hit lately.

Calum smirked at Nura, shrugging one shoulder as he easily responded, “Rescuing you.”

She scoffed almost incredulously, an amused smile lifting her lips as she locked her gaze with his. “From what?” Nura challenged, narrowing her eyes slightly. “A life without access to the advantages of money? So kind of you, Cal.”

Though her words themselves were sharp, Nura spoke them playfully, a glimmer in her eyes that told him she was just teasing. And while Calum would’ve been insulted before, he merely rolled his eyes at her, pursing his lips before returning, “You gotta be a dick about it?”

Nura grinned, a laugh escaping her as Calum scoffed out a smile as well. She pressed her smiling lips together, glancing over her shoulders and Calum recognized just a few of the faces as some of the staff at the resort, and Nura looked back at him. He saw the hesitant turn her smile took before she gave him a shake of her head. “Thanks for the offer, Calum, but we’re, uh, fine here,” she finally said, a kindness in her tone to show her appreciation for his offer. 

Calum leaned back ever so slightly as he inhaled a small, albeit surprised breath. He hadn’t entirely expected for her to reject the offer, no matter how nicely she’d done it. Calum had become all too used to people jumping on the offer of joining a table he’d bought, too used to being used for the advantages of the size of his bank account. Most people Calum had encountered only ever associated him with what he could do for them, mostly when it came to footing the bill. And while he didn’t at all mind doing it for his closest friends—especially because they never asked him to, always either offered or ended up paying for themselves—Calum had, at one point, become numb in doing it for others. He kind of expected to just do it, because others expected it from him.

Now when he was voluntarily offering to do it for someone else—someone he didn’t really know—the logical rejection had his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and curiosity. “Are you sure?” he found himself asking.

Nura nodded, waving him off. “Yeah, we’ve already got a tab going and, uh, you know—” she paused, gaze taking him in before her brown eyes lifted to meet his. “—staff and guests shouldn’t really fraternize.”

Calum raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by her reasoning. “We’re not on resort grounds.”

She let out a short laugh, gaze averting as she gave a shake of her head before looking at him once more. With a pointed raise of her eyebrow and jut of her chin, Nura finished meaningfully, “Go back to your friends, Calum.”

He did, reluctantly and with a frown on his face, because Calum had a feeling that Nura’s guest and staff mingling reasoning was some type of bullshit—and that her real reason had something to do with her previous comment about the advantages of being in the VIP section.

Calum scoffed to himself as he took a sip of his drink and continued back to where his friends were. He was so used to people throwing themselves at him because of his money—fuck, had a whole relationship based off of it. And now, in the face of someone who actually rejected his offer because of it, Calum kind of felt at a loss. 

Though, because it was Nura, he shouldn’t be surprised. That woman wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever met. And although her comments, at first, had pricked his skin the wrong way, his mind had started to change. As he settled back down on the couch next to Kaykay, his thoughts seemed louder than the deafening music and busy hum of the club. Nura was unlike many of the people he’d encountered in his life, and that suddenly wasn’t such a bad thing.

Around forty minutes and two drinks later, Calum was leaving the bathroom, back pressing against the wall as a group of girls giggled past him as the upbeat music of the club was no longer muffled. His face scrunched as he air dried his hands, no paper towels available in the bathroom and the machine was out of service, and just as he turned the corner to enter the main part of the club, Calum came across a sight that had him slowing down, eyebrows knitting together as he watched Nura in conversation with that guy from the pool the other day. Keith, he vaguely remembered.

Except it didn’t seem to look like a conversation Nura was particularly enjoying, Keith’s figure easily looming over her shorter stature as she frowned up at him, shaking her head as she talked animatedly. The other night, Calum hadn’t been blind to the quick escape Nura had made from Keith at the pool, remembered how she had said she got “bad vibes” from the guy, and it only had an alarm bell ringing through Calum’s head when his sharp eyes caught Keith’s hand reach out to grab Nura’s, who instinctively pulled hers away.

She had said earlier she didn’t need rescuing, but Calum couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away knowing Nura wasn’t comfortable with the guy.

“Hey, Nura,” Calum smoothly stepped up to her left, catching the way she instantly looked up at him with raised eyebrows, the surprise evident in her features. She expertly wiped it off as Calum’s dark eyes met hers, an easy smile on his face as he jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “Everyone’s lookin’ for you at the table.”

Nura’s red lips parted in realization, eyes shining with relief before she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, sorry—I was just coming to you guys,” she answered. Then, looking back at Keith, who was watching them with a frown and an irritated look Calum didn’t care for much, Nura told him, “Like I said, Keith, I’m here with friends and I’m not really in the mood to leave yet.”

Calum’s jaw tightened at her words, fighting to keep the easy smile on his face though he felt his fingers curling into the palm of his hand as he realized Keith’s intentions. He stood still, feet planted in place and giving no dancing body around him the power to push into him. He wouldn’t move until Nura was going with him.

Keith looked between the two of them, failing to ease the smile he wore as he asked Nura, “Are you sure? We could—”

“I’m good, Keith,” Nura cut him off pointedly, and Calum’s lips twitched into an annoyed curl at Keith’s insistence. She was already turning away as she added, “I’ll see you later.”

Calum’s brown eyes lifted to meet Keith’s green, unapologetic about the warning glare that crossed his features as Keith’s lips thinned. Nura’s hand then grabbed Calum’s leather clad arm and was pulling him away, releasing him once they were somewhat engulfed in the crowd and over the music, she shouted to Calum, “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” Calum responded, feeling the tension in his muscles ease now that they were away from Keith. This time, Calum grasped her arm, his touch light on her warm skin, ducking his head slightly as Nura looked up at him. “But, seriously, Nura—you and your friends should join us.”

Her lips parted, ready to object. “But—”

Rolling his eyes, Calum cut her off with a wave of his free hand. “Look, I know you don’t want to take advantage of my money after shitting on it so much, but I insist.”

He watched the way her jaw slackened in amused incredulity, staring up at him as a short bout of laughter escaped her and he grinned, knowing he’d caught her off guard. Nura grinned and Calum desperately tried to keep his gaze away from the way her tongue trailed across her lower lip, raising his eyebrows expectantly as she considered his offer with an averted gaze.

Finally, she let out a groan, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as she gave in, “Alright, fine, fine.”

Calum grinned triumphantly, unable to stop himself from draping his arm around Nura’s shoulders to guide her towards their table as she pulled out her phone to let her friends know where to go. 

At one point of the night, when Nura was two margaritas in and was sitting in one corner of the couch, she felt someone sit down to her left and glanced to see Luke settling in, head leaning back and long legs spread. She feared someone would trip on them, given that almost everyone was on their feet, drinking and dancing.

With an amused chuckle escaping her, Nura asked him, “You good?”

“I’m great,” Luke answered with a chuckle, dimples shadowing his features, splashed in the purple and blue lights of the club. Sitting up properly, he offered her a smile. “Thanks for showing us this place—it’s awesome.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Nura laughed lightly, glancing forward to see Ashton pour Elaine and Willa another drink. “Thanks for my showing my friends and I how the VIPs roll,” she added with a teasing grin, earning a laugh from Luke in return.

“Your first time?” he questioned and when Nura nodded, Luke laced his fingers together, sitting forward with his arms resting on his thighs. “Yeah, I remember mine—it was ’cause of Cal, actually. He knew I wanted to go to a Laker’s game for my eighteenth birthday and couldn’t afford to go and he knew, like, I was incapable of accepting a court side ticket, even if it was for my birthday. He ended up getting tickets for all of us just so I had a great birthday.” Luke scoffed with a smile, shaking his head as he leaned back. “He’s a good friend, no doubt about it.”

Nura listened to him intently, unable to help the way her eyebrows raised slightly at Luke’s story. Court side tickets to an NBA game weren’t cheap and although Nura knew Calum had money, the fact that he would get several tickets for all of his friends just so Luke could have a good birthday had her heart warming. She sipped her drink after a soft “wow,” escaped her, chewing on the straw as she acknowledged the small bit of guilt she felt pool in the pit of her stomach for calling Calum out about his money. She didn’t entirely regret it, given how their first few interactions had went, but Luke’s story only confirmed a thought that had been brewing in Nura’s mind: Crystal had been right, that night in the bathroom. Calum was proving himself to be not as bad as Nura had originally thought, especially when he pulled her away from Keith and had her and her friends join him and his friends.

She had always prided herself in reading people with the job she had; maybe, just this once, she was just a little bit wrong.

*****

Her room smelled like Chinese food and rain, and Nura loved every bit of it. Having woken up a couple of hours ago, she showered off last night’s booze stench and as she put on  her lounge shorts—pajamas on top for the few minutes she took to pray—

and an oversized Queen shirt, she ordered Chinese food enough to feed a family of four. It was her day off—which was one of the few reasons why she had decided to go out last night—and she fully intended on sitting in her bed with her food with Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the TV right across.

Until a knock sounded on her door.

She sighed exasperatedly, her food already spread out on a tray on the bed, and got off the bed, blinking in surprise when she opened it and there stood Calum. “What’re you doing here?” Nura asked, eyebrows raised before they knitted together. “Did you walk in the rain?”

Calum, with his hands buried in the pockets of the black rain jacket he wore, responded with a dry smile as he responded sarcastically, “Oh, good afternoon to you, too, Nura. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

She pressed her lips together briefly, expression deadpanning before she stepped to the side and let him in. It wasn’t like it was down pouring outside—which was why she didn’t feel bad about ordering takeout—but the drizzling still had Calum’s dark hair wet, as well as his jacket. “Good afternoon, Calum,” Nura stated, a sweet smile gracing her lips that had Calum scoffing as she gestured for him to take off his jacket. “What’re you doing here?”

What could possibly have made him cross half of the resort to get to her room? Especially in the rain? She raised her eyebrow at him as she hung his jacket on the row of hooks behind the door, facing him with her arms crossing over her chest.

Was she imagining the sheepish expression that softened his features, hand raising to run through the short strands of his wet, dark hair as he let out a chuckle. “I just, uh,” Calum paused, clearing his throat before settling for a small, boyish smile. “Wanted to check in on you, after last night. How’s the hangover treating you?”

Nura felt her lips part ever so slightly at his words, expression relaxing into a subtle surprise at the thoughtfulness he was displaying. All of them had gotten pretty drunk last night, a time well spent, and she remembered Calum, Michael, and Crystal walking her back to her room before they went to theirs. She also remembered throwing up last night—fortunately she’d made it to the toilet—and had brushed her teeth thoroughly before taking a shower and deciding to order her favorite hangover food.

Calum didn’t have to come to check on her, especially when it was raining, but it was an unexpected gesture she felt warming her heart as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I’m actually about to dig into some hangover food,” Nura laughed lightly, gesturing to the bed where the Chinese spread was laid out. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth, considering her next words carefully. Technically, Calum shouldn’t even be in her room. Nura was well aware of that. She was also well aware of how she didn’t want to kick him out. So she smiled up at him and asked, “Care to join?”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up, gaze flickering to the bed before resting on her once more, unsurely. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to, like, show up and—”

She cut him off with a roll of her eyes, turning to go back to her bed and giving him no chance but to follow. He joined her as he sat next to her at the head of the bed, back against the headboard and Nura leaned down to open the mini fridge by the wall. “Water or Coke?” she asked him as she felt the mattress shift under her while he settled.

“Water, thanks,” Calum responded, taking the bottle from her before chuckling at the spread. Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked, “Do you always order this much food?”

“When I’m hungover? Hell yeah,” Nura chuckled, quickly pressing play on the TV before picking up the container of white rice and putting some on her paper plate.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they helped themselves to the food and watched the show play on TV, and as she leaned back against her pillows, legs crossed and plate in her hand, Nura couldn’t help but think how strangely this situation had progressed. She didn’t make a habit of having resort guests in her suite—in fact, it never happened. She kept her distance, especially since many of the ones she encountered were people Nura was fine with never seeing again. It wasn’t lost on her how Calum had been one of those type of guests when he first arrived.

But something had changed that night at the pool, where they’d been able to be civil to one another for more than a few seconds after Calum had apologized for the things he had said and the way he had acted. No longer was he another guest with some kind of superiority complex the amount of money he had gave him, nor was he the asshole who tried to get under Nura’s skin on purpose. Things had shifted between them without Nura truly being able to comprehend the moment it happened, but now that it had, she couldn’t complain. Hanging out with guests on company property wasn’t allowed, and Nura wasn’t a risk taker, and yet. . . She didn’t want to kick him out of the room. Especially when he made the little noises that came with the opening theme of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

It felt easy, sitting in her room, eating Chinese and watching one of her favorite shows. Calum had taken off his shoes, legs crossed as he ate the shrimp lo-mein, a comfortable silence between them only broken by the TV and the gentle rainfall that had surprised them. Nura didn’t care that she probably looked like a bum, too comfortable in her clothes and her hair falling messily around her shoulders, even though the guy next to her looked unsurprisingly good even if he was in only a pair of athletic shorts and a shirt. She was definitely not checking out the way the muscles of his tattooed arm flexed whenever he reached for his water bottle.

Nura quickly focused on her attention on the show, watching the episode play out. And in her purposefully sought out distraction, she’d momentarily forgotten who she was sitting next to, and after swallowing a bite of her food absently murmured out, “I would totally hook up with young Scully.”

Calum’s short, incredulous laugh pulled her into reality, and Nura’s face flushed in realization as she shoved another forkful of rice and orange chicken into her mouth. She was surprised, then, when Calum hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Really? I’d go for young Hitchcock. He’s got nice hair.”

Nura blinked before looking at Calum, face scrunched up in skeptical confusion. “You’d go for him because he’s got nice hair?” she repeated dubiously, scoffing with a shake of her head despite Calum’s defensive slackened jaw. “That’s not a reason to get with someone!”

His lips parted, incoherent protesting exclaims escaping him before he gestured to the TV with a challenging furrow of his brows. “Why do you wanna get with Scully?”

“Because!” Nura started, earning an expectant raise of eyebrows from Calum as he gestured with a shake of his head for her to continue, and Nura rolled her smiling lips into her mouth as the laugh threatened to escape. She pushed herself further into her headboard before admitting, “He’s got a nice jawline. And he’s taller than Hitchcock.”

Calum’s expression fell flat, before his dark eyes narrowed almost comedically and he rebuked, “So basically my reason isn’t as superficial as yours?”

Her cheeks heated up before she waved him off, looking towards the TV once more and saying, “Shut up, watch the show,” which only earned a laugh from him.

They continued watching in silence, the food slowly lessening as they kept eating. By the time the next episode started, Nura was full and Calum was asking her, “Did you read all of these?” She glanced over, catching him looking at the five novels piled on the bedside table, picking up the top one. It was her favorite book, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Nura hummed in confirmation and as Calum opened the book and flipped through the pages, let out a soft, incredulous breath. “Shit—not a page left unmarked, huh?”

She laughed after taking a sip of her Coke. “That’s my favorite book—have you read it?” When Calum gave a shake of his head, eyes still taking in her writing in the margins and the highlights, Nura continued, “You should. It’s beautiful. And the marks are just how I read.” She chuckled lightly. “The dream’s to work in the editing field of a publishing firm. Reading new stories all day from all kinds of people is, like, the perfect way to spend my time.”

Calum looked at her upon hearing her words, eyebrows raising in surprise and what Nura thought was a hint of admiring as his lips curled into a smile. He nodded, smile soft and warm that sent a flutter ripple through Nura’s stomach. “That’s pretty cool, Nura,” he said. 

“Thanks,” she returned, unable to keep the smile off her face. Whether it was because of Calum or the topic at hand, she couldn’t be sure. For her own sanity, she chalked it up to the latter. “I worked as an editorial intern the past two years during the school year, so that really helped with my resume. I’m hoping to hear back from a couple of places I applied to soon. With any luck, this’ll be my last summer working here.”

“I’m sure you’ll get loads of acceptances,” Calum nodded, voice holding a kind of sincerity she hadn’t heard before as he put the book back down.

Nura twisted her lips to the side briefly before offering, “Do you wanna borrow the book? I mean, if you’ve got free time to read since you’re, like, here for a while.”

Calum glanced at the copy before raising an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, a bit too quickly, before smiling. “Yeah, totally. Just don’t drop it in the ocean.”

He scoffed out a laugh, grin showing off those crinkles by his eyes Nura found too adorable. “Yeah, thanks,” he agreed before pushing up from the bed, raising an eyebrow at her. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Nura hummed, gesturing to the door off on the left that Calum soon disappeared behind. She leaned back against the headboard once more with a happy sigh, no longer trying to make sense of this situation as she watched the show play in front of her. Though, that only lasted for a few moments as knocking on the front door interrupted her. She paused the TV before heading over, jaw instantly tightening as she mentally chastised herself for opening the door.

“How can I help you, Keith?” Nura asked, hoping she kept the heavy disdain out of her voice as much as possible. She hadn’t forgotten last night when he had tried to get her to leave the club with him, only ceasing his insistence when Calum had swept in to pull her away. That rescue, she was appreciative of.

“Hi, Nura,” he returned with that smile of his that never settled well with her. His hands were clasped behind his back as he looked down at her. Unlike Calum, he looked like a wet dog because of the rain. “Something about last night has been bothering me.” She quirked an eyebrow; was he going to apologize for being so pushy? “That guy you were talking to last night—isn’t he a guest here?”

Nura stared up at him, bewildered and taken aback at his question. That’s what was bothering him? Her grip on the door handle tightened, shoulders squaring and chin lifting as she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Yes,” she answered, albeit slightly hesitantly. Her stomach twisted, not liking where this was going. 

Keith hummed with his lips pressed together, eyebrows raising, and expression reading one of I hate to do this to you, but. . . “You know employees aren’t allowed to mingle with guests like that, Nura.”

Was he fucking serious? Nura didn’t think it was possible for him to get more annoying, and yet he was proving her wrong. She fought from letting her aggravation show on her features, keeping them as neutral as possible as she calmly responded, “Yeah, but we weren’t on company property, Keith.” She saw the corner of his lips twitch in annoyance. She knew she was right, and his desire to seek her out and try to make some power move over her only fueled her dislike of him. “And it’s not like I was the only one there. Have you talked to the other employees I was with? Or am I the only one on your agenda?”

Keith scoffed through his nose, looking down at her with a miffed curl of his lips. “I was getting to them,” he said, voice slightly strained, and Nura wanted to laugh. Bullshit. He was only ever going to try and hold it over her head. “If you’re seen entertaining the guests in more than a professional capacity, I’m afraid I’ll have to report you to McNulty.”

Nura’s jaw slackened at his words, staring up at him in disbelief with an angry knot tightening in her stomach. Her grip on the door handle tightened, the metal digging into her palm as she pressed her teeth together and exhaled through her nose. He was threatening her. The son of a bitch was actually threatening her because she was, what, becoming friends with some of the guests? As opposed to normally wanting to be as far away from them as possible and cursing them out behind their back?

She was too speechless to say anything in return, to tell him to shut the fuck up or mind his own damn business, and Keith merely smiled at her and said, “Have a good one, Nura.”

She stared at the space where he stood for a brief moment until her thoughts kicked in and Nura slammed the door shut with an aggravated grunt. “What the fuck,” she muttered through strained teeth, fingers running through her hair as she stepped away from the door.

“Shit—was that because of me?”

Nura’s breath caught in her throat, momentarily forgetting of the man that had been in her bathroom until she caught sight of Calum, leaning against the wall on his left shoulder and a frown on his face. Nura licked her lips, hands clasped behind her back as she leaned against the wall opposite of him. She saw the downturn of his lips, looking bothered by the conversation he had just overheard.

“No,” Nura answered with a sigh, giving a shake of her head. She saw the guilt that caused him to chew his lower lip and she found herself wanting to get rid of it. “That was just Keith. . . Being a piece of shit.”

“Are you sure?” Calum asked, frown deepening. He crossed his arms and Nura’s gaze flickered briefly at the way his biceps became more apparent, the tattoos only making her throat dry. “He sounded pretty—”

“Petty? Bitter?” Nura supplied with a scoff. She rolled her eyes, looking off towards the window. The awning above her window prevented the rain from getting into the room, working with the screen on the window itself. The sound of rain only served to calm her now irritated nerves. “I’m not gonna stop being friends with you just because he’s unjustifiably jealous.”

Calum raised his eyebrows at her and Nura saw the ghost of a smirk curl at his lips. With a subtle tilt of his head, he asked teasingly, “We’re friends now?”

Nura felt her cheeks heat up, smile turning shy and embarrassed as she pressed her palms against the wall behind her. Friends may be pushing it, but Nura believed that they were getting there. She definitely didn’t find him as rude and terrible as she had before, the change more or less slapping her in the face. But whatever they were now, it was far from annoying guest and disgruntled employee. His gaze felt heavy, playful, and Nura melted under it. Feigning confidence with a life of her chin, she shot back, “I took full advantage of your bottle service last night; yes, we’re friends.”

Calum laughed at that, grin wide and real and showing off those crinkles and annoyingly perfect white teeth. His laugh held a rasp that sent a shiver down her spine as he ducked his head, nodding along in agreement. When his head lifted, brown eyes meeting her own, Nura felt a calmness in her chest, a flutter in her stomach especially when he confirmed, “Right. We’re friends.”

*****

Nura had seen a ghost. Or, at least, that’s what she looked like.

Calum watched her from where he sat at the table with Kaykay and Ashton, eyebrows knitting together behind his sunglasses as he watched her listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone call she’d taken. He saw it in the way her lips parted, shoulders rising and falling with the quick breaths she’d began taking and how she had reached behind her to grip the guard railing around the outdoor section of the restaurant. Her ponytail danced in the wind but it didn’t do anything to hide the alarmed expression painted across her face.

It wasn’t his business, he knew it wasn’t, but the way she pocketed her phone and ran a hand down her chin, looking around with a panicked gaze before her quick feet took her to the inside the restaurant had a worried knot forming in Calum’s stomach. Before he knew it, he was pushing back his chair and was on his feet, barely hearing Ashton’s, “Where’re you going?”

Calum only granted him and Kaykay with an absent, “Be right back,” already halfway into the restaurant.

He folded his sunglasses on the neckline of his shirt and looked around, not even acknowledging the other guests on different tables as his eyes searched for Nura. He found her talking to the guy he recognized as the manager, who put a hand on her shoulder and nodded at her, a look of reassurance on her face. Nura was quick to nod, hands reaching behind her to untie the knot of her apron as she handed it to him and began making her way towards the exit.

Calum moved quickly, following her as his eyebrows drew together, his longer legs allowing him to get in front of her with a hasty, “Nura, hey—are you okay?”

Nura stopped short, her gaze lifting to meet his, and up close Calum saw the panic and mild fear swirling in her dark irises that only had his worried frown deepening. Her eyebrows drew together, the distress clear in her features as she let out a sharp breath. “Yeah, I just—” Her throat worked, licking her lips as she glanced away briefly. “My mom’s sick—she has, uh, a bad case of the stomach flu and I’m just really worried, y’know? It’s just her and my brother back home and I, uh, I need to go see her.”

Calum pressed his lips together, feeling a weight settle on his chest as he took in her hoarse voice, thick with concern. She looked out of it, which Calum understood as he asked, “You’re gonna drive back?”

“No, I’m gonna fucking take a magic carpet, Calum.” He clamped his mouth shut, her words as sharp as her voice and, again, he understood. He kept his gaze on her, eyes soft and features worried, and Nura squeezed her eyes shut as she brought her hands up and covered her face, a soft groan muffled in her palms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—shit.” She dropped her hands, sad eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m driving, why?”

Despite her snapping at him, Calum hadn’t really carefully considered the next few words that tumbled out of his mouth, rushing them out in an uncharacteristic ramble, “Let me drive you—I mean, it’s none of my business but I just—I don’t want you on the road by yourself when you’re so worried about your mom, y’know? I can take you. Let me help.”

It sounded so stupid once the words were out of his mouth, and although Calum’s intentions were purely just for the purpose of wanting to be there for Nura, he understood how they could be misinterpreted. But, shit, seeing her so worried, so frazzled, had his heart leaping out of his chest and he wanted to be able to do something. This had nothing to do with him, but he wanted to help, wanted to be there for her.

Nura gaped up at him, completely taken aback by his offer, eyes holding nothing but disbelief. Half of him expected her to tell him to fuck off, so he was pleasantly surprised when all she did was stammer out a bewildered, “I—no, Calum. You don’t have to. Y-You’re on vacation. Why would you even—”

“Because, uh, you gave me a really good book to read.” He said it with a soft smile, a real smile, and at this point he was willing to give her any reason or excuse in the book if it meant she would accept his help. He still had so much time left on his vacation, what was a little time away from the resort if it meant making sure Nura and her family were okay?

They’d become friends over the past two weeks, and Calum had a bit of a habit of going above and beyond for his friends.

Nura scoffed slightly, lips just barely curling up in a smile she couldn’t afford right now. He didn’t want her to smile if she couldn’t. Not when her mom was sick. “It’d be a three day thing, Calum. I’ll be running around doing errands for my mom and—”

“And I’ll help you with them,” Calum cut in, his words earning a skeptical eyebrow raise from Nura. His shoulders dropped, thinning his lips at her as he told her dryly, “I can help you.”

“You’ll help me or pay someone to help?” Nura retorted and Calum was glad even in a tense, worrisome moment such as this, she still found it in herself to joke around. Even if it was at his expense. At this point, her poking fun at him for his financial status was something he truly found amusing. It was way better than her taking advantage of it.

“I’ll help you,” he said with a roll of his eyes. When Nura rolled her lips into her mouth, seemingly considering his words, Calum dropped his chin and raised his eyebrows at her, silently encouraging her to say yes. “Let me come with you.”

Her dark eyes met his, looking as if she was searching for something in his gaze. Whatever she found, she must have liked because she finally dropped her shoulders and sighed with a nod. “Okay.”

The two and a half hour drive to Homestead was filled with Nura’s playlist playing in the car, a variety of songs Calum approved of as he lowly sang along to them. Nura didn’t talk much in the car, opting to stare out the window and chew on her unpainted nails, only speaking up when she told him a faster, easier route than what the GPS dictated. Calum didn’t mind her silence, though he hoped she wasn’t letting the worry consume her, knowing there was no real way he could stop it from happening.

His friends had been surprised in his new plan, but none of them tried to talk him out of it. Not like Calum expected them to; they’d all come to really like Nura and thought it was sweet of Calum to help her out in whatever way he could. Nura had just looked too overwhelmed, too scared for Calum to let her go on her own. 

When they finally pulled into the driveway of a one story house in a cul-de-sac, Nura broke the silence as she turned off the music in the car. As they unbuckled their seatbelts, Calum felt her gaze on him before she commented, “You’ve got a nice voice.” He looked at her and she smiled. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“It’s just—” Calum stammered and he felt something heat up his cheeks. Since when did he fall over his words? “Just in the car and the shower.”

Nura’s smile was sweet, words sweeter, “You’re really good.”

She got out of the car then, and Calum let out a slow exhale as he followed her actions, glancing up at the bright blue sky and wondering when his heart learned to skip a beat or two. They grabbed their duffels out of the car and Calum followed her up to the front door after handing her the keys, which she then used to unlock the door and step inside. 

Just as the door opened, Calum heard a woman’s voice from inside call out, “Nura, is that you?”

“Yeah, Mama,” Nura called back and as Calum shut the door, she toed off her shoes by the corner and he followed her lead, placing his Docs properly with the other sandals and sneakers already there. He then looked over to the living room to the immediate right, caught sight of a woman who had apparently been lying down on the couch sit up as Nura dropped her bag on the floor and walked over, “Asalamalaikum.”

Nura’s mother stood up, dressed in a printed tunic and leggings as she smiled and returned, “Walaikumasalam,” before putting her arms out so Nura could walk into her mother’s hug. He saw Mrs. Ansari close her eyes as she hugged Nura, a smile on her tired face as she said something in a foreign language.

“I’m good,” Nura answered her before pulling away, which was when Mrs. Ansari’s eyes landed on Calum, who was lingering in the entrance a bit too awkwardly. He felt out of place, the strap of his duffel feeling heavy on his shoulder as he offered a small smile. At her mother’s questioning look, Nura said, “Oh, Mama, this is Calum. He drove me here.”

Mrs. Ansari blinked in confusion as she looked at Nura. “Why didn’t you drive yourself?”

Nura scoffed. “Because I was basically in a catatonic state after finding out you were sick. Calum offered to come with me.”

Mrs. Ansari shot her daughter a flat look at the first part of her statement, but then her lips lifted into a kind smile as she looked at Calum. “It’s nice to meet you Calum. Thank you for accompanying Nura.”

He felt some of the awkward tension in his muscles ease as he returned her smile, chuckling lightly. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Ansari. And, really, it was no problem.” His eyes met Nura’s as he added. “It was the right thing to do.”

Mrs. Ansari’s smile widened before stepping back and gesturing to the couch. “Please, come sit,” she said to him before settling on the smaller couch by the window. 

Calum walked further into the living room, taking note of the pictures on the wall. Many of them of Nura, especially when she was younger, with a boy who he figured was her brother and lots of family photos of them with their parents. But Nura hadn’t mentioned her father, and if he was still in the pictures put up on the wall, Calum could only correctly imagine where he was.

“So, Mama,” Nura said, settling on the three seater couch that Calum sat on the other end of, putting his bag down as Nura focused on her mother. “Kya hua? Bilal said you’ve been sick for a few days? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, beta,” Mrs. Ansari said with a click of her tongue, as if she hadn’t wanted Nura’s brother telling her. “The doctor prescribed me antibiotics and I’m getting a lot of rest. I’m not contagious anymore, which is good, Alhamdulillah, but I’ve just been feeling a lot of weakness.”

Calum noted the worry on Nura’s features, in the furrow of her eyebrows as she looked at her mom. “Is it getting any better with the medicine?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ansari nodded, shifting so she had brought her legs up on the couch, back resting against the arm rest as she faced Nura and Calum. “Really, baby, I should be fine in a few days. You didn’t have to come.”

“I was worried,” Nura told her. “I’m staying for the weekend, okay?” When Mrs. Ansari opened her mouth to protest, Nura shook her head. “No, Mama. I already told them I’d be here and I have lots of personal days so it’s fine. Deal with it.”

Calum felt his lips curl up slightly in amusement as Mrs. Ansari let out a sigh with a roll of her eyes. Clearly she wasn’t the type who particularly liked being fussed over. “Acha, fine.” Then she glanced at Calum before looking back at her daughter and gesturing to the kitchen. “Oh, go get him some water or something. Don’t just sit there.”

Nura’s face scrunched up, looking over at Calum who had rolled his lips into his mouth. Nura scoffed, telling her mom, “He can get it himself.”

He suppressed the chuckle. He should’ve seen that one coming—why should she have to serve him in her own home when she already did so at the resort? Except Mrs. Ansari didn’t see it that way, clicking her tongue as she warned, “Nura.”

Rolling her eyes with a huff, Nura stood up reluctantly. “Fine,” she grumbled, shooting Calum a sharp look as she walked past him, only to stop before facing her mom again. “If you’re not contagious anymore, I’ll sleep with you so Calum can have my bed.” Mrs. Ansari nodded and Nura shifted her gaze to him, raising an eyebrow. “Hope you’re okay with downgrading to a full sized bed.”

Calum scowled after her, shaking his head at her dig before looking back at Mrs. Ansari, letting himself smile at the woman watching him. She then sat up, voice coating with curiosity as she spoke up. “Nura said you were friends—do you work at the resort, too?”

Calum’s lips parted, half feeling the need to give into the lie. But he quickly talked himself out of that useless point, fingers laced together as he let out an almost sheepish chuckle. “Oh, no. I’m, uh, actually staying there with a few of my friends. I met Nura on my first day there.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Ansari sounded, eyebrows raising in intrigue. She tilted her head before asking, “And you left to accompany Nura?” Calum’s throat worked, not entirely sure if she approved of his actions or not. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. No doubt it was strange that her daughter arrived to help out with a man she hadn’t seen before. It probably looked fucking weird, but Calum didn’t regret it. So he nodded quietly, felt something ease in him when Mrs. Ansari smiled and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

He returned her grin just as Nura reappeared, a tall glass of water in her hand that she begrudgingly offered him. His smile only widened, finding the pout puckering her lips really fucking adorable. With a tick of her head, she said, “I’ll show you to your room for the weekend.”

Just a few moments later, Calum was stepping inside Nura’s bedroom, utterly neat and minimalistic in every aspect. The bed was perfectly made, bright green plants in one corner of the room, a study desk opposite of the bed and a bookshelf filled to the brim with books—which was not at all surprising to him. To the left of the door they’d walked through was a dressing table, only a few makeup and belongings on top as Calum remembered most of them being in Nura’s suite back at the resort. The walls were a pastel mauve color, so light he had to squint to see it, and the floor free of carpet, the wood sleek under his sock clad feet. There was a picture frame on the single bedside table next to the lamp and alarm clock, a photo of a younger Nura with a man he recognized from the other pictures in the living room. Her dad, Calum could tell. Same eyes, same nose.

As he carefully put his duffel down on the floor next to the bed, Calum turned to see Nura leaning against the wall by the door, eyes on him. She was watching him intently, a small smile teasing the corner of her lips, and Calum raised his eyebrows under her gaze. Did he look out of place? He kind of felt like it, but the room smelled of vanilla and shea butter, a scent he had come to recognize Nura by, and he didn’t want to admit how easy it would be to fall asleep engulfed in it.

“What?” Calum finally asked with a low chuckle, wondering what was running through her mind.

Nura grinned, teeth biting into her lower lip as she glanced out the door. She then looked at him, the sun seeping through the window washing her brown skin in a pretty glow as she quietly, conspiringly, said, “I’ve never had a boy in this room before.”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up at that, feeling his smile return. Not what he had been expecting, but the way she had admitted it was tugging at his heart. From what Calum knew, Nura was Muslim, and although there were certain parts of the religion she did and didn’t practice—as far as he knew from what she had told him—he wasn’t surprise over the lack of boys that entered this room. He felt like a fucking thirteen year old boy at the mild case of excitement twisting his stomach as he asked, “Really?”

“Mhm,” Nura nodded with a gentle laugh. “I mean, my mom’s not so conservative, but my dad was. So, y’know, no boys ever stepped foot into the room when he was around. But, like, he passed when I was fifteen and after that, I still didn’t wanna bring boys in here. So, yeah,” Nura chuckled a bit nervously. “You’re the first.”

Calum felt his smile soften, briefly biting the inside of his cheek as Nura’s eyes met his. They gleamed against the sunlight, a sight he wouldn’t ever get tired of. “Well, I’m honored.” Nura laughed lightly, watching as Calum looked around her room some more, his grin returning as he gestured towards the bookshelf with an amused, “That doesn’t surprise me.” She rolled her eyes, unashamed of her overflowing shelf and Calum sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers linking together in the space between his legs. “Reminds me of my room; I’ve got this, like, big shelf filled with old vinyls and albums and stuff.”

Nura raised her eyebrows, teasing smile upturning her lips. “Really? You’re into music?” She blew air through her lips. “I had no idea.” He shot her a look at her sarcastic tone, earning a laugh from Nura. “Is it just a hobby? Your collection of music?”

He took a breath, hands bracing behind him on the mattress as he leaned back a bit. Her question was simple, innocent enough, yet it had Calum pausing to consider the thoughts running through his head. Music was the only thing that kept Calum sane; it was the only thing, other than his friends’ support, that kept him together when all of the bullshit with Dawn had happened. Playing his guitar was a hobby, but he found relief in collecting vinyls and records and listening to music. The way Nura lost herself in the books she read, it was the same for Calum when all of his focus went into the lyrics being sung and chords being played. He wanted to make a life out of his love for music, whether it be collecting his favorite records or selling them—hell, he knew how to play a few instruments, he wouldn’t mind teaching others how to play, either.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered Nura, catching the silent inquiring look that crossed her face. “I guess. . .” He trailed off with a thoughtful furrow of his eyebrows, head tilting back as he gazed up at the ceiling. “It wouldn’t be so bad, making some kind of career out of it. Maybe then I’ll have an appreciation for hard work.”

His last statement was spoken with a knowing smirk shot at Nura, who scoffed out a laugh as she remembered those words all too clearly—she’d snapped them at him that night at the restaurant. Her laugh had Calum grinning, and Nura ran her fingers through her hair as she shrugged. “If you’ve got the means to do it, I’d say that’s a wise way to spend your money,” she told him, the encouraging tone not lost on him.

Calum smiled. It felt. . . Good that someone other than his best friends thought his idea was one worth pursuing. He doubted his parents would care much what he did, too busy with their own business and too invested to let go of it any time soon. Something loosened in Calum’s chest at Nura’s smile, tone appreciative as he simply said, “Noted.”

*****

“I thought Billy liked barbecue chips—these are salt and vinegar.”

“Yeah, those are for me—hey, put them back in the cart!”

“Nura, we’re supposed to be shopping for your mom and Billy, not you!”

“A girl has her needs, damn it, Calum.”

He pursed his lips with a shake of his head, shooting Nura a look as she huffed and continued to push the cart along. The two of them continued down the aisles of Wal-Mart, finally heading towards the check-out with their stuffed cart. Nura may have gone a bit overboard, but it was their last day in Homestead and she wanted to make sure the fridge, freezer, and pantry were fully stocked before they left.

The past three days had been nothing short of interesting. It was a strange dynamic, having Calum around, and Nura was surprised how well he got along with her mom and Billy—which was kind of understandable, given that he hadn’t acted like a dick to them right off the bat as he did with her. But that was in the past.

In fact, Calum had been a huge help around the house, despite Nura’s constant teasing that he took in stride—and knew he deserved it, especially when he nearly sucked up one of Billy’s DS cartridges in the vacuum. Other than that near mishap, he helped her around the house, surprising Nura with his efficiency in the kitchen, got along really well with Billy and played video games with her seventeen year old brother, and had been quick with a small garbage can when Mrs. Ansari vomiting acted up and she couldn’t make it to the bathroom on time.

He hadn’t even been disgusted, and if Nura ever had any doubt about the kind of man Calum was, it was gone.

If anything, she could feel her heart pick up its pace every time he looked at her, felt the butterflies tickle her stomach whenever he smiled. She was falling, and it was probably a bad idea, but she didn’t care. 

“We’ve got everything?” Calum checked as they got to the self-checkout, eyeing the cart with a small smirk.

Nura snorted. “For the house and even some road trip snacks, yes.”

The two of them worked together as Nura scanned the items and Calum bagged them before putting them back int he cart, and not for the first time this weekend she found herself thinking how good of a team they made. Who knew the pretty rich boy was good at mundane things he could pay people to do?

When the last of the items were scanned and bagged, Nura reached into her purse to grab her wallet, eyebrows knitting together when she didn’t find it. “Huh?” she sounded, confused, as she opened it and dug through, groaning when she realized she didn’t have it. She didn’t even think about how she’d driven to Wal-Mart without her license on her, but was more pressed about the fact that now there was no way to pay for her groceries. Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Calum asked, eyebrows knitting together.

Nura’s shoulders fell, turning to look at him with disdain on her features with a little bit of self-loathing. “I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

Calum blinked. “Oh.” Then he stepped towards her and Nura watched as he pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket and slid out a credit card. “We can just use mine.”

Nura’s eyes widened, grabbing his bicep as she stopped him. “Wait, no—I can’t let you pay for two hundred dollars’ worth of groceries, Calum.”

He looked down at her, a furrow in his eyebrows as if he didn’t understand the problem. It was stupidly endearing. “Yes, you can.” Then with a chuckle, he added, “Not like you have much of a choice, Nura. It’s okay.”

Her stomach twisted, eyebrows knitting deeply as she barely sounded a protesting, “But—” when Calum inserted his credit card. She took a breath before chewing on her lips, not entirely feeling right about this. Logically, Nura knew he had the money, knew that two hundred dollars wasn’t much to him, but that wasn’t the point. Taking care of her family was something Nura had become accustomed to; she and her mom did it together, even Billy chipped in with the summer jobs he’d get. It had always been the three of them, and while she definitely appreciated Calum’s kindness, it just felt strange accepting it. She didn’t want to owe him anything, and didn’t want him thinking she wanted him to pay for something for her family. It wasn’t his job.

When he pulled his card out and signed his name on the pad, Nura shifted her weight on her feet and peered up at him. “Thank you, Calum,” she said, her voice holding the genuine appreciation she felt over him fixing her blunder. “I’ll pay you back.”

She saw the frown that drew together his eyebrows as he pocketed his wallet, shooting her a near bewildered look. “The hell you will,” he said with a scoff. Calum shook his head, walking to the back of the cart to grip its handles. With a pointed look at her, he added, “I didn’t mind doing it, Nura, and I didn’t do it for you to owe me anything. I was happy to help.”

The look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t going to budge on his stance, and Nura just kind of fell for him a bit more in that moment. She also felt a wave of guilt for all the teasing she had done regarding him and his money, and wished she could take it back. Coupled with what Luke had told her that night at the club and him paying for her family’s groceries—not to mention the fact that when they’d stopped to get gas on their way to Homestead, he’d paid for it—Nura knew that Calum Hood wasn’t like any of the guests she’d ever encountered, and the money he had, he would use it for others before using it for himself.

That little trait only made him all the more attractive.

As they exited Wal-Mart, Nura tried, “Will you at least let me get you a drink when we get back? On me.” She didn’t know how much that would mean, given what he was paying to stay at the resort, but it was all she could think of doing. It was a small gesture, nothing compared to what he’d done.

And yet, Calum grinned at her, sharp features melting into a giddy softness as he pushed the cart along and nodded. “Absolutely.”

Nura left Homestead with a lighter heart than the one she’d arrived with. Most of it had to do with the fact that her mom, thank God, had started feeling a lot better than when Nura first got home. Her antibiotics seemed to kick in, and they did plenty in helping her mom out with the nausea and pain she had been feeling. With Calum and Nura chipping in to help around the house, even if it was only for three days, her mom was able to get as much rest as she could and it helped her recovery along.

She was no longer pale or running between her bed and the bathroom anymore, the pain had nearly subsided, and Nura knew her mom would be okay. And after telling her brother to be good and take care of their mom, and with Mrs. Ansari and Billy thanking Calum for all of his help, Nura and Calum left her house and were back on the road to the resort. This time, she joined in with him in singing along to the songs playing through the car at a louder volume; lighter hearts made for a happier car ride back, and Nura really fucking appreciated Calum’s help in it all. While she had been caught completely off guard when he had offered to come, she was so relieved he did.

They got back to the resort late in the evening when the sun had set and, ever the gentleman, Calum walked Nura back to her suite. Their footsteps softly thudded on the sleek floor, the hall empty as they reached her door around eight in the evening. Nura unlocked it and stepped inside, dropping her bag on the floor and turning to see Calum watching her, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in the pocket of his leather jacket which she couldn’t understand how he wore in the Florida heat.

Nura wrung her fingers together as she took a step towards him, feeling her skin flush as she began, “Calum—thank you, honestly, for helping out this weekend. You didn’t have to take time out of your vacation to do that and I—I really appreciate it.”

Calum’s eyebrows so briefly pulled together as his face scrunched up in protest, giving a shake of his head. “You don’t have to thank me, Nura.” He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’ve been takin’ care of us and it just felt like the right thing to do.”

She let out a breathy chuckle at that, about a foot or two worth of space between them as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, well, it’s my job to. You did it because you’re a good person.”

She saw the way his eyebrows raised, corner of his lips tugging into a wider smile as he scoffed lightly through his nose. There was a teasing glint in his dark eyes as he said, “Means a lot, coming from someone who once said I was just barely a decent person.”

Nura rolled her lips into her mouth, an embarrassed heat flushing her skin as Calum chuckled quietly at her reaction. Of course she remembered saying that to him, right after he had basically tipped her out of spite. It seemed like so long ago, rather than just a month. “Yeah, well,” Nura mused, not at all minding the way the space between them seemed to be closing. Her gaze lifted so brown eyes could remain locked with his, a teasing flutter in her stomach under Calum’s intent, purposeful stare. “Safe to say you’ve proven me wrong.”

They were so close, her vanilla scent mixing with the woodsy freshness of his cologne, a combination Nura desired more of as she looked up at him. Calum leaned towards her, nose brushing against hers, fueling the fire sparking in Nura’s veins as his voice dropped into a raspy, deliciously teasing murmur, “Enough to break your fraternization rule?”

Nura’s response was tilting her head up to finally give into the heat his body was radiating, to succumb to the way Calum was pulling her and connect her lips with his. She felt herself inhaling sharply as he returned the kiss, his hands finding her face as he kept her close, moving his lips with hers. Nura leaned into him, her own hands gripping his wrist as her lips parted, deepening the kiss earnestly, the softness of his lips curling her toes, pressing herself into him. She couldn’t possibly be close enough to him.

Calum’s hands were warm against her skin, the couple of rings he wore chilling her gloriously, and he tasted like the mint gum he’d been chewing in the car. The subtle flutter in her stomach whenever Calum smiled at her had erupted into a hoard of butterflies, his tongue sliding against hers. God, she knew it was a bad idea, knew she was crossing a professional line she had never ventured near. But the way Calum’s thumbs caressed her cheek, kissed her so softly yet intensely, had Nura throwing caution in the wind. How could she possibly focus on anything else when Calum was kissing her like it was what his lips were made to do?

They pulled apart too soon, a brush of lips and labored breathing, and Nura kept her eyes closed as she reveled in the warmth Calum’s body provided. Her heart was racing, his nose brushing against hers, and Nura found herself wanting to stay close. Bad ideas never seemed so good right now. “Yeah,” she finally breathed out, ragged and overwhelmed, eyes still closed as her lips curled into a dazed smile. “Definitely worth it it.”

*****

It was a long day. Every so often, the long days caught up to Nura and the day couldn’t be over quick enough as she made her around her specific areas. Her sneakers, though they were comfortable, at this point seemed to be too tight on her feet and she couldn’t wait to go back to her room and collapse for the night. Except it was one in the afternoon and her hour lunch break wasn’t for another half hour. A little bit less, she realized as she glanced at her Apple Watch and read the time as 1:06. Not fast enough though. And it didn’t help that she was waiting to hear back from some publishing firms she had applied to work for, itching to check her e-mail every few minutes. The day was already taking a toll on her.

God, she wanted to nap.

The Florida sun was something she was used to, but today it only seemed to slow her down. She kept walking from the restaurant to the pool, providing guests with drinks and snacks whenever they demanded them. Mundane, repetitive, but she got paid for it, so Nura walked around and did her job with a pleasant smile on her face despite it feeling so strained on her cheeks.

It wasn’t too bad, though, because at least while she was around the pool, she got to see Calum. He, Luke, Sierra, Michael and Crystal were all by the pool, and it was taking all of Nura’s willpower and every ounce of her professionalism not to openly admire the glow of Calum’s skin under the beaming sun, or trace the ink decorating his skin with her gaze. Their eyes would meet every now and again, and though Nura focused on doing her work, she could still feel the weight of his stare on her. It was nerve wracking and thrilling in the best ways.

Ever since their kiss last week, there had been so many more snuck in. While she worked, Calum spent time with his friends in various activities the resort offered, but as soon as she clocked out, he was joining her in her room for dinner and a TV show to binge—even if, by the end, the show was long forgotten and they were too busy with dizzying kisses and wandering hands. It was a dangerous game they were playing, Nura knew, but all of her worries seem to melt away when she was with Calum. And it felt good, for once, to not constantly think of life’s problems that had taken residence on her shoulders. It felt so good to get lost in Calum’s kisses, his touch, to melt under his warm gaze and be the reason for that stunning smile. 

“Nura, you can take your break after dropping off that order,” Mr. Gonzalez said as she picked up a small tray with a single mango smoothie on it to be delivered poolside.

She nodded, stifling the yawn threatening to escape as she made her way back to the pool to give the drink to the middle aged woman who had ordered it. Nura balanced the circular trap on the palm of her right hand, left hand gripping the rim of the tray for extra security as she made her way over. The woman was sitting just a few feet away, and Nura couldn’t wait to give her the drink and go for her break.

And maybe she’d gotten lost in her thoughts, let herself get too distracted, but Nura hadn’t registered the two kids that were running past her, hadn’t heard their excited shoulders behind her over the busy poolside hum. But just as she reached the woman, the kids, probably about nine or ten years old, roughly bumped into Nura as they went, and the startled gasp ripped past her throat faster than she could grab the glass as it toppled over, sending the yellow colored smoothie splattering right onto the woman who’d been waiting for it.

Nura heard the few gasps around her, but they sounded distant over the sound of her rapid heartbeat and the woman’s startled shriek of, “Oh, my God!”

Face flushing in an embarrassed heat, Nura covered her mouth briefly, eyes wide in mortification as she stammered out, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, ma’am. I—Let me grab you a towel.”

“Don’t!” the woman snapped, ripping her sunglasses off her face to fix Nura with a fierce glare with icy blue eyes. Nura stopped, blood frozen and eyes apologetically wide. She was all too aware of the stares she and the now soaked woman were receiving, and she couldn’t be more horrified over the whole encounter. Especially as the pissed off woman sat up and continued, “You’ll manage to fuck that up, too. What, do you not know how to walk?”

They had been trained for moments such as this, where the customers create a scene just like what the woman was doing. But in the six summers Nura worked at the resort, nothing like this had ever happened to her, and in this moment, she forgot all about what she was told as she remained frozen in her spot, humiliated by the way she was being spoken to and angry that she couldn’t say anything back without the risk of being fired.

“Ma’am,” Nura began, hating that her voice was a bit unsteady, holding the tray to her chest and picking up the now empty glass. Throat working, she continued, “Let me get you a towel and—and another drink—”

“Don’t bother,” the woman scoffed, pulling out the towel she was laying on to wipe at her skin. The scowl was a permanent fixture on her face as she looked up at Nura. “You’re lucky you didn’t break the glass, or else I would’ve sued your ass faster than you can—”

“Hey—it was an accident and she already apologized. Move the fuck on.” Nura’s eyes widened, heart stopping in her chest as she whipped her head to the right to see Calum next to her. She gaped at him, breath still in her lungs as she wondered what the fuck he was doing as his own scowl was directed towards the seated woman.

Who, in turn, stared up at him with incredulity and irritation. Though many people were watching the scene, Nura was absently relieved that all action around the pool hadn’t ceased, because if there had been complete silence, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle any more humiliation than this. “Who the hell are you?” the woman demanded with a frown. “She spilled the damn drink on me—can’t even fucking do her job right.”

Nura’s face was on fire, that much she was certain of. And it certainly didn’t help when Calum took a step forward, figure looming and intimidating, as he snapped, “Accidents happen. If you’re so bothered, get off your ass and get your drink yours—”

The woman’s eyebrows had show up and jaw had dropped in astonishment, and Nura quickly cut in with a hasty, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll send someone else for your drink,” and, without thinking, grabbed Calum’s arm and roughly pulled him away.

Nura was too aware of the eyes on her, hearing Calum’s flip flops drag on the floor and his indignant protests as she told Lorraine to help out the pissed off lady by the pool, and it wasn’t until they were away from the pool and restaurant and headed towards her room where she finally let out a sharp breath.

“What the hell was that?” Nura demanded harshly, not even bothering to look at Calum as she made her way towards her room. She didn’t even want to eat anymore. She just needed to be in her room where she could have a proper fucking meltdown. Thank God her suite wasn’t far. They were already entering the hall with the brisk steps Nura had been taking.

Calum easily kept up with her pace, and she could hear his own anger as he returned, “She was treatin’ you like shit. I couldn’t just let her do that.”

Her vexation getting the best of her, Nura let out a humorless laugh, jamming her key into the door before shoving it open. “That’s fucking hilarious coming from you.”

Calum shut the door, the slam sounding distant as Nura’s heart pounded in her ear as she turned to face him. She didn’t even pause to admire him standing there in just a pair of black swimming trunks, the scowl on his face matching the one she wore. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, scoffing as he took a few steps towards her. Nura stood her ground, jaw tight. “Are you seriously bringing that up again? I thought we were fucking passed that, Nura.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant as her skin remained hot to the touch. “I thought so to, until you decided to say fuck my job and tried to play the hero when I didn’t ask for one.”

He genuinely looked bewildered at her statement and Nura knew it was because he didn’t think what he did was wrong. And while if she was more level headed, she would understand why he thought that, but right now it only fueled the fire burning her blood. There was a good chance he just made things worse. Gesturing towards the door behind him, Calum exclaimed, “That woman was being a bitch to you!”

Nura clicked her tongue loudly, looking away with an irritated shake of her head before returning, “It’s just part of the job. You’d know if you ever had one!”

Calum scoffed, incredulous and angry all at the same time as he raised his eyebrows at her. “Excuse me?”

“It’s all a part of working in customer service.” Nura let out a breath, lips curling in a near condescending smirk as she eyed him. “But I wouldn’t expect a trust fund brat like you to know that.”

His eyes narrowed, darkening as he took the few steps towards her, tall body towering over hers and Nura hated the excited twist in her stomach, and the thrill that shot down her spine, when Calum’s voice dropped and he returned darkly, “Only one being a brat here is you.”

Electricity shot through Nura’s core at Calum’s words, only being able to release a small breath until his lips captured hers in a rough, dizzying kiss that had her instantly wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It was a frenzied kiss, desperate and heated as Calum’s fingers instinctively worked on the button of Nura’s black uniform shorts, and thank fucking God he was only in swimming trunks as he pushed her shorts down her legs and she kicked them off.

They were a mess of heavy breaths, needy kisses, and working hands as the kiss briefly broke when Calum lifted Nura’s shirt off, a fire brimming in her chest as he pushed her onto the bed before climbing over her body to connect their lips once more. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, and Nura didn’t at all mind the combination as the scruff on his chin scratched at her skin, his warm body pressing into hers as Calum broke their kiss and Nura let out a dazed, breathy gasp when his plush lips teased her neck with kisses.

Her anger and humiliation from before melted away under Calum’s body, eyes fluttering shut as one hand went to the back of his head, fingers threading through his growing dark hair and head tilting back as she reveled in the way his lips and tongue and teeth worked at her neck. She was overwhelmed by him; by his taste, touch, scent as Calum moved lower, lower, lower, his lips leaving a trail of electricity in his wake as he kept going down her body, brown eyes absent of his own previous aggravation and flashing with wicked mischief as she watched him reach her underwear.

When he pulled it down, Nura bit down on her grinning lower lip, head tilting back into the pillows as his lips teased the inside of her thighs with kisses. 

Fuck a nap; this was exactly how she wanted to spend her break.

“I’m sorry ’bout what happened at the pool.” Nura felt Calum’s chest lightly vibrate under her ear as he spoke in a rasp, her gaze fixed on he way her fingers played with his. The room had fallen into a tranquil silence, the steady beat of Calum’s heart calming Nura more than a nap would have. “I just hated seein’ the way that woman spoke to you. Reminded me of how I spoke to you and I’m sorry for it.”

Nura’s eyebrows furrowed at that, lifting her head to look at Calum. He was resting against her headboard, the sheets doing well to cover her bare chest as she laid next to him. Calum’s brown eyes met hers and Nura’s features softened as the little bit of guilt she could still see in them. “You don’t have to apologize. I forgave you for that a long time ago.” The corner of his lips quirked up but Calum still didn’t let himself smile, and Nura rested her hand on his chest as she sighed. “Thank you for defending me. And I’m sorry, too, for being such a bitch about it.”

“No, don’t,” Calum said with a shake of his head, his left hand coming up to cover her right one on his chest. Nura glanced down, feeling a smile tug on her lips at his warm touch, at the way his tattooed hand seemed to perfectly hold hers. Her brown eyes met his soft ones, feeling herself melt under his gaze all over again. “It wasn’t my place to jump in like that, no matter how much it pissed me off. I put you in a tough spot and that wasn’t fair of me.”

Nura felt her smile grow, heart fluttering in her chest at the sincerity in Calum’s voice. She then let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she responded to Calum’s curious expression with, “Either we suck at apologizing to each other, or we’re really good at it.”

Calum scoffed, his grin finally appearing, bright and beautiful. “I think it’s the latter,” he said with a quick wink, leaning forward to connect their lips in a toe curling, breathtaking kiss.

She would’ve continued it, except her phone let out a notification ding, and Calum groaned in protest when Nura pulled away with a light giggle. She reached over Calum, ended up laying with her stomach on his as she grabbed her phone from the bedside and read the new e-mail she’d received. And as her eyes took in the words on the screen, Nura’s heart dropped and a gasp escaped her throat. “Oh, shit!”

“What?” Calum asked, worry creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my God,” Nura laughed, the excitement widening the grin on her face, reading the e-mail one last time before letting out a thrilled squeal. She kicked her legs excitedly, earning a bewildered laugh from Calum until she finally announced, voice high with enthusiasm, “Penguin Random House is offering me a job in their editorial department! Oh, my God—I got the job!”

She looked back at Calum as the words fell past her lips, catching the way his eyebrows shot up and something flashed across his eyes, akin to happiness and pride, before a grin split across his face. Those crinkles she adored so much appeared, just for her, as Calum laughed, “That’s incredible, doll—congratulations!”

Her stomach was wild with butterflies, cheeks aching from the grin she wore as she let out a squeal and pushed herself up to hug Calum. She laughed against him, feeling his arms wrap around her as he squeezed her tightly, bodies flushed as she felt his nose nudge at her neck. “Oh, my God—I’m moving to New York.” That had been the dream; to land a job at a publishing firm, preferably in New York City, and move there to start her life as proper adult. The thought was fucking terrifying, but one that brought Nura a kind of happiness she couldn’t comprehend.

Fuck, if only she didn’t have to go back to work in ten minutes. She’d properly be able to celebrate—especially since Calum was already in her bed.

*****

“Nura? Mr. McNulty would like to see you in his office.”

She looked up from where she was leaning against the bar, checking her e-mail to see another offer had come in. Over the past few days, ever since that first e-mail from Penguin Random House, the other firms Nura had applied to had finally reached back after the many video interviews she had done. She’d gotten job offers to most of them, including Simon & Schuster, which was her top choice, with Penguin being her second. Her days, despite dealing with the same kind of people all of the time, carried on with a happier note with each acceptance.

“Okay,” Nura nodded, pocketing her phone and taking off her apron. Riley took it from her, storing it under the bar as Nura walked out of the restaurant and in the direction of the main lobby of the resort. She couldn’t be sure why Mr. McNulty was calling her, but it was opportune; Nura could take that moment to tell him she wouldn’t be coming back next summer. Or ever again.

She reached his office door, knocking until she heard him answer with a “Come in.” Mr. McNulty glanced up from his computer, leaning back as he said, “Oh, Ms. Ansari, good. Please, have a seat.”

Nura was good at reading people, and right now, she got an uneasy vibe off of Mr. McNulty. He didn’t look entirely happy, elbows resting on the arm rests of his chair and hands linked together as Nura slowly sat down on the chair in front of his desk. “Is everything alright, sir?”

“I’m afraid not, Nura,” he said with a sigh, leaning forward as he clicked something on the laptop in front of him. Her eyebrows drew together as he turned the laptop to show her the screen as he said, “This is you with one of our resort guests, correct?”

Nura’s gaze went to the screen, heart in her throat as she watched a video of her exiting Calum’s bungalow from a few days ago, pausing on the steps as Calum leaned in to kiss her. The video ended with Nura turning around, giving the camera a clear shot of her face before it automatically stopped—along with Nura’s heart.

Shit. Oh, fucking shit.

Her lips parted, blood rushing in her ears as she tried to find the right words. “Sir, I-I can explain—”

“You know our policy, Ms. Ansari,” Mr. McNulty cut in with a shake of his head. He didn’t look angry, per se. Just disappointed, which Nura knew was worse. Especially since she knew the man, they got along well. She had never had such a transgression, and she was absolutely mortified. Fuck. She knew this would happen, knew they hadn’t been careful. “Engaging in relationships with our guests is against company regulations, and is grounds for immediate firing.”

Which would go on her record, and although she was going to quit anyway and already got offered jobs at all those firms, there was still the risk of them finding out about her getting fired from the resort. And she knew the reason for it wouldn’t be taken lightly, either. Shit. She was screwed.

She couldn’t even look Mr. McNulty in the eye, gaze dropped to her lap where she picked at her nails, face flushed in an embarrassed, saddened heat. How could she have been so dumb? So careless? Fuck.

“However—” Nura looked up when Mr. McNulty began speaking again, taking in the resigned expression he wore. “You have been with us for over five years, and despite your mistake, you’ve been an essential employee at Little Palms. Which is why I’m willing to offer you a deal.” She sat up, breath stilling in her lungs, eagerly and carefully listening. “I’m going to give you the chance of voluntarily submitting your resignation, effective immediately. You will get paid for the hours you have worked, but you will need to leave by the end of the day. This way, it doesn’t go on your record. Does that sound fair to you?”

Nura let out a heavy breath, disbelief crossing her features. She had already been planning to quit, and although that wouldn’t have been effective until the end of summer, doing so now was better than being fired. It would suck, Nura knew, having to leave the friends she made here quicker than she had anticipated, but Mr. McNulty’s offer was the lesser of two evils. At this point, she didn’t care what was fair or what wasn’t. It was her fault for being careless despite knowing the rules of the resort, and Mr. McNulty’s generosity wasn’t something she was going to take with a grain of salt.

“I—Yes. Yes, sir. That’s fair,” Nura nodded quickly, throat tight. None of it was fair, but it wasn’t like she was going to be unemployed. She had jobs lined up. It would be okay. She would be fine. “Thank you, Mr. McNulty.”

He nodded as the two of them stood up, and he reached his hand out and said, “It was wonderful having you with us, Ms. Ansari. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

She offered a small smile, shaking his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir.”

It wasn’t until she walked out of his office did Nura let out a breath, eyes closing briefly before opening as she leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t going to lie—that was kind of shitty. And although she knew she could use the extra time to pack up her life and get ready for her move to New York, it still left a small hole in her heart. Mr. McNulty only allowed her to resign out of her loyalty to the resort; so easily could she have just been fired, and Nura knew that would’ve sucked more. Still, it wasn’t wrong—or at least, she didn’t think it was—that the situation left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Nura sighed once more, giving a shake of her head as she began walking, figuring she might as well head to her suite to start packing. Her phone let out a ding and she pulled it out, eyebrows raising when she saw an e-mail from a Penguin Random House address. Nura hummed in acknowledgment, walking as she read the message from the woman who was the head of the editorial department, feeling a small smile tug at her lips as she read that the woman was excited to hear more from her, and that she hoped Nura accepted their offer.

And the e-mail had made her smile, reminding her of the hope she still had and how today wasn’t so shitty, until she got to the last line of the e-mail.

I’m so glad Mr. Hood—or Calum, as you may know him—recommended you to our firm. His e-mail only reaffirmed our decision in moving forward with your application.

Nura stopped, eyebrows slowly knitting together as she read those two sentences over and over again, hoping that she was only imagining them. But the more she read them, the clearer they got, and the heat that simmered in her veins only seemed to intensify with each second that passed by.

What the fuck.

He had reached out to them on her behalf? What the hell had he been thinking? Nura ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a sharp breath as she remembered the day she’d gotten the e-mail from them. He had been with her and he kept his damn mouth, didn’t even think to mention that he’d talked to them. 

Good thing he hadn’t, or else she would’ve probably ripped his head off while he was naked in her bed.

Heart drumming wildly in her chest, Nura texted him with trembling thumbs, casually asking him where he was. When he responded almost instantly, telling her he was at the beach, Nura didn’t think twice. She didn’t care she had to get her things ready—she needed to have a conversation with him first.

She arrived to the beach quickly, deaf to the sounds of people enjoying themselves and music playing and waves crashing. The sand was soft under her sneakers, eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as she searched for Calum, or maybe even his friends, knowing he was with them. She walked in the direction of the shore, looking right and then left, jaw clenching when she caught sight of him resting on a towel under an umbrella. 

Nura stormed over, her anger and indignation overwhelming her, ignoring the greetings his friends offered her as she stood in front of his now sitting body when he heard her name being uttered by everyone else. “I need to talk to you,” Nura stated through gritted teeth. God, she was so angry, so outraged that he would meddle in her business the way he had, no matter his intentions. 

Calum frowned from behind his sunglasses, taking them off before he slowly stood up. Not even his stupid tattooed body could distract Nura from the glare she wore. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Nope. No endearing nickname would distract her either. Nails digging into her palms, Nura demanded, “Did you reach out to Penguin Random House on my behalf so they would give me the job?”

She saw the realization flash across Calum’s face, lips parting as guilt tugged at his features and the knot in Nura’s stomach tightened. All of Calum’s friends had fallen silent as he started, “I—yeah, I did, but Nura—they were goin’ to give you the job anyway.”

“Maybe!” she exclaimed defiantly, eyebrows shooting up. “But it was what you did that made them go through with it, and I didn’t fucking ask you to do that.”

“Nura—” Calum let out a breath, frowning down at her as he gave a shake of his head. “I was just tryin’ to help.”

The sun was burning down her back, and it only drove Nura’s irritation further. Her chest felt tight, hating every minute of this. “I didn’t ask you to,” she repeated through gritted teeth, expression as hard as her eyes, and she knew Calum could see that. “I want to have a job because of my own hard work, not because of anything else.” She crossed her arms over her chest, voice lacing with a bitter venom as she added, “But I guess that’s too hard for someone who hasn’t worked a damn day in their life to understand.”

The hurt flashed across Calum’s face and for a moment, Nura regretted the words she’d uttered. God, they had been past that. She had stopped throwing his access to money in his face, had realized he was so much more than his bank account. But she was so angry in his act of meddling, and she lashed out when she was hurt, uncaring of who got caught in the damage. And it didn’t matter how much she liked Calum, how much he made her smile or laugh or feel good. He hadn’t respected her work ethic, had interfered when he wasn’t needed, and it only ended up hurting her. So she hurt him.

Nura took a step back, thinning her lips at him, uncaring of his friends’ stares as her brown eyes remained locked with Calum’s. His eyebrows were drawn together, the hurt more prominent on his face than anything else, and although the sight of him looking at her light that tightened Nura’s throat, it didn’t stop her from saying, “You cost me two jobs today, Calum. Do me a favor and stay the hell away.”

He saw the alarmed confusion in his eyes at her words, but Nura didn’t give him a chance to say anything as she turned and walked away, arms crossed tightly as she made her way off the beach. She knew he tried to go after her, was stopped when Ashton said, “Let her go, man,” and a dry sob escaped Nura as soon as she was far enough away from them. She felt her face scrunch up as she fought to keep the tears away; tears of anger, of sadness, of hurt—whatever the fuck they may be. It all came crashing into her after disappearing from Calum’s intense, pleading gaze, and Nura only let the tears fall when she was in the privacy of her bedroom.

She had expected to say goodbye to the resort soon enough. Saying goodbye to Calum, though, had never crossed her mind. 

*****

“She’s settled well in New York,” Mrs. Ansari told him with a smile, a happiness in her eyes as she spoke about her daughter. “She always wanted to get out of Florida, and even though I don’t like her being so far, I know she’s happy. That’s all I can ask for.”

Calum smiled, looking down at his hands as he twirled one of his rings. “She’s definitely a city girl—I’m not surprised she fits right in,” he said, unable to keep the fondness from slipping into his tone. Her face flashed across his mind; glimmering brown eyes and a smile that rendered him breathless every time. “They’re lucky to have her there.”

There was a silence that settled upon them briefly, and Calum heard the sound of porcelain clicking against glass as Mrs. Ansari put her mug of tea on the coffee table. “She told me what you did.” Calum’s throat worked as he looked up to meet the older woman’s gaze, surprised when she smiled at him gently. “Your heart was in the right place, Calum, and I know Nura knows that. She’s just. . .” She trailed off with a soft chuckle. “She’s independent, always has been. Her father and I raised her to work hard for what she wants and what you did, although it was only out of good intentions, made her feel as though you didn’t value who she was.”

Calum sat up, hating that that was ever a thought in Nura’s head. He admired her, so fucking much. And helping her had been such a natural instinct that Calum hadn’t stopped to think how it could be interpretated. Fuck, he should’ve known that the only way to help Nura was to support her in how she chose to run her life, not pave a pathway for her. Calum shook his head with a sigh, gaze dropping once more as he stared at his half drank cup of tea. Without even thinking, he murmured, “I value her more than anything.”

And he did. Of course he did. She’d come into his life like a whirlwind when he least expected it, when he was too busy being bitter over the way Dawn’s life had been moving forward despite her taking advantage of him. Nura was better than anyone Calum had ever met. She never took advantage of him, was quick to knock him down a peg or two when he needed to be, and, fuck, he loved her for it. Of all the things in the resort, Nura was the one who gave him a peace of mind, who pulled him out of the vat of bitterness that Dawn had thrown him in. He’d gone to Little Palm to so the beach and ocean and everything else in between could distract him. But it was Nura who did so by keeping him on his toes in the best way possible. 

He heard the smile in Mrs. Ansari’s voice. “Give her some time, beta. If you truly care about her, and I can tell that you do, you’ll try one more time.”

The late October chill of New York was something Calum was familiar with. He enjoyed it, a nice change from the warmth of Los Angeles, and he didn’t mind standing out on the sidewalk, back leaning against his car as he kept his gaze fixated on the front door of the building in front of him. His hands were kept warm in the pocket of his long dark grey coat, watching each person that walked out of the door, hoping it was the one familiar face he had been in search for.

He had half a mind to pull out a cigarette to warm him up, but he didn’t want the first time she saw him in months to be when he smelled of tobacco. Fuck, he didn’t even know if she wanted to see him. For all he knew, she would see him waiting outside and turn right back into the building. His heart drummed in his chest, and no words of reassurances from his friends or Mrs. Ansari echoing in his brain could ever prepare him for the moment that Nura emerged from the revolving door of Simon & Schuster, dark hair dancing in the breeze as she took in a breath of the late afternoon New York air.

Calum’s heart leaped in his throat the second he saw her, pushing himself off the car and standing straight, feeling every drop of blood racing in his veins as Nura started descending the concrete steps and looked up, only for her dark eyes to lock onto Calum’s.

Nura stopped where she stood, hands buried in the pocket of her own peacoat and he wondered if she was trying to determine whether she was imagining him or not. He saw the shock on her face, lips parted as Calum took a tentative step forward. There was still about fifteen feet worth of space between them, filled with people passing by, and he was desperate to close it.

“What—” Nura let out a breath, and Calum swore he didn’t think he had missed her voice so much. She finally descended the stairs, making her way towards him, eyebrows drawing together as she asked, “What’re you doing here?”

For a moment, all Calum could do was stare at her. Standing in front of him after months of just being a memory in his head, Calum was desperate to drink in the sight of her for as long as he could. She looked beautiful, unsurprisingly, having replaced her resort uniform with jeans, heeled boots and a turtleneck under her coat. Absolutely stunning.

“I—” Calum paused, clearing his throat before he reached into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out the item that had been weighing it down. Nura watched, her eyebrows rising at the item in his hands. “I thought you’d want your book back.”

A scoff escaped Nura’s upturning lips, taking her copy of Aristotle and Dante from his hands. She had never asked for it back when she left the resort, and it had been the only thing Calum had of Nura’s once she left. He’d read the book once and then twice over, soaking in the words that had become her favorite to read. He felt closer to her every time he read it, momentarily allowing himself to forget how he had fucked things up between them.

Nura rolled her lips into her mouth before lifting her gaze to meet his eyes, gently asking, “Did you like it?”

Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, hands returning to the pockets of his coat. “It was beautiful,” he nodded, voice softer than he intended. He looked down at his shoes then, black Docs stark against the pavement. “Ari kind of frustrated me, though.”

“How come?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, considering his next words carefully before he told himself to just stop thinking. He’d been thinking of saying them for so long. Now, he finally would. “It took him so long to figure out he loved Dante.” Calum’s gaze met Nura’s, offering her a small, close mouthed smile, a bit sad, but truthful. “But for me, figuring out I loved you was the easiest thing.”

Calum heard the sharp inhale Nura took at his words, brown eyes framed by long lashes widening as she gaped at him, and Calum didn’t regret it. He’d been holding those words in for so long, had kept them in his chest to the point where it had become almost painful. Now they were out there, spoken to the person they were meant to, and now Nura had the power. So he stood there, watching her, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

He saw the subtle way her eyebrows drew together, grip on her book tightening as her throat worked. “I—” Nura took an unsteady breath and Calum wondered if she could hear his pounding heart. Nura dropped her gaze, looking down at the book, letting out a nervous chuckle as she said, “Well, Ari’s a gay kid in 1987, so things weren’t so easy for him figure out—”

God, if she was anyone else, Calum would’ve hurt his eyes by how hard he would’ve rolled him. Instead, he felt himself letting out a breathless chuckle, some of the nervous tension easing in his muscles as he took a step towards her and cut in, “But I also admire him.” Nura pressed her lips together, watching him as Calum offered a small smile. “Because he gave me the push to come out here, to tell you how I feel, to apologize for the way I fucked things up.”

She was listening to him intently, eyes wide and earnest, and Calum pulled his hands out of his pockets and cupped her cheeks. Her skin was as soft as he remembered it, felt a ghost of a smile curl his lips when her eyes fluttered as soon as he touched her. Even in the heart of New York, he could smell her delicious vanilla scent.

“You make me better, Nura. With your jokes and your ethics and all of the things that make you, you. Watching you push yourself pushes me, and that makes you the best person I know.” 

“Oh, shit.” Calum let out a short laugh at the whisper she let out, looking up at him in awe and incredulity. He hadn’t meant to make her speechless, but he needed her to hear the truth, every ounce of it. She licked her lips, the corners tugging up. “That’s, uh, a lot of credit you’re giving me.”

Calum’s own lips formed a smirk, still feeling his nerves buzz in his veins. “You deserve it,” he told her before tilting his chin and widening his smirk. “You pushed me to open up my own record shop, after all.”

Nura’s eyebrows shot up, surprise crossing her features. “What? Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Calum confirmed, thumb stroking her cheek. “Over in Brooklyn. Complete with records, instruments, and even lessons by yours truly.” Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “Gonna check out that hard work thing you’re always talking about.”

Nura laughed at that, using the book to lightly smack his arm as Calum laughed, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen almost completely. When her laughter quieted, brown eyes lifting to meet his, she softly asked, “Did you mean it, what you said? That you. . . You love me?”

Calum’s smile softened, throat working as her eyes provided him with a warmth against the New York chill. He lowered his chin, eyes on hers as he confirmed, “I love you.”

Nura’s chest fell with a sharp exhale, and Calum briefly caught sight of her wide grin before she closed the gap between them with a press of her lips to his. Heat warmed Calum throughout his body as he kissed her back, leaning into her the way he had been desperate to do so for months, feeling her arms wind around his waist as she held him close. It felt so good, so fucking right to kiss her, to feel her so closely, to love her like he wanted to.

“I love you, too,” she murmured against his lips, a giggle escaping her as she uttered those words so happily. 

They pulled away with thundering hearts and giddy grins, and the flush in her cheeks told Calum that they would be okay. It was all the reassurance he needed. Calum grinned, snickering lightly as he hooked an arm around Nura’s neck and mused, “Money can’t buy me that.”

Nura’s expression fell flat, bemused despite Calum’s teasing grin, and she smacked her lips together with a roll of her eyes before saying, “Shut up and kiss me again.”

His face hurt from how widely he was grinning, ready and willing to comply. “Yes, ma’am.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @loveroflrh​ @softforcal​ @sweetcherrymike​ @astroashtonio​ @meetashthere​ @novacanecalum​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @highfivecalum​ @calumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @imfuckin10plybud​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @old-zeppelin-shirt​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​  

[fabdante]

The Vergil and Kat Post

So um. This like idk essay, analysis, rant thing took took like five attempts to write because I would not stop rambling and it’s still like just barely five pages long. And that’s after I cut it down from like 11 pages.

The short version is: Kat and Vergil are really interesting and complex as we view their relationship usually from an outside perspective which leaves much up to interpretation. If you’ve been on my blog for a while you probably know the interpretation I have of them because I eat up tragedy like candy, but that’s not the only one. 

The (very) long version is beneath the cut. And unfortunately this time there are no pictures. There’s some analysis but also just a lot of rambling. If Kat and Vergil, in any form, are not your cup of tea, this is probably not a post for you which is chill!

I’m going to start with the end. Vergil’s Downfall.

Recap, when Vergil encounters Hollow Vergil in his personal trip to his personal hell and all, Hollow Vergil eventually asks ‘but what would you do if you had another chance’. Vergil doesn’t answer. But since he’s the player character, we get access to his thoughts. And we get a montage of Kat. At first one might think this is about how the plan went wrong. Vergil’s regretting the plan. Then it becomes increasingly more apparent the thread that ties all the scenes together isn’t the plan, isn’t the plans failings. It’s Kat. Not Dante and Kat. Not the plan. Just Kat. The scene ends with a scene from mission 2, a moment from the end of the only cutscene Vergil and the real Kat share alone. There’s this little moment that seems to exist to show how pretty Kat is.

This is his last thought. Not the plan. Not how Kat relates to the plan. Not how he mistreated Kat in service to the plan. It’s just Kat.

Act one of Vergil’s Downfall is all about Vergil and Kat. The whole things a reenactment, just somewhat twisted, of how they met. Kat in Limbo, in danger from a demon, and Vergil doing what he can to help. He doesn’t hesitate either. He hears Kat call for him, call for help, and he runs. Except in Downfall the threat is with them, something he can fight and slay head on. So he does. But everything is wrong now. ‘Kat’ berates him. She tells him what Vergil must think she’s thinking. That she feels used, that she thinks Dante’s better, and all that. And Vergil tries to explain, he tries to justify himself, even if this ‘Kat’ is not his Kat. He wants her to understand, though. Because she’s Kat after all.

He needs to hurt her to proceed, of course. But he can’t. He can’t until she turns into a physical monster. Not until this fake Kat becomes something entirely unKat can he actually hurt her and proceed.

The Hollows represent aspects of Vergil that he needs to kill to gain power, as well as his insecurities and the people he cares about and more. Kat represents his humanity. So I suppose, in a way, it’s not surprising that she’s the hardest for him to kill and the one who receives the least of his cruelty that we see later in the game. But, the point still remains. He faces Hollow Kat first. And he begs her to understand him, longs for things to go back in what way they can.

(Also, an aside, it’s interesting to think about how Kat is not only humanity, but Vergil’s humanity. The implication being that Kat in a sense grounds him. A foil to how inhuman Vergil is.)

Downfall takes the scraps that the game gives and gives them a revamped, strengthened context for Kat and Vergil and their true feelings and intentions. The first game doesn’t give us much and why should it? They are built in a show don’t tell philosophy because, well, Dante can’t tell us about Vergil and Kat. He can only see. So we only see. But Downfall, we are explicitly told that yes, Vergil cared for Kat. She is important. And she is his one regret.

So, Downfall proposes that Vergil genuinely cared for Kat. And the base game proposes that Kat genuinely cared for Vergil. And it’s hard for me not to talk ramble when I talk about them because there’s…a lot of little moments between them that I love, little things that I find interesting to pick apart and wonder about (and have over the past 8 years). I’m going to try not to do that, though. Try being the operative word (I have failed all five write ups preceding this one).

Kat is often described as naïve because of her relationship with Vergil. But I think this is an inaccurate description. We never see her blindly trust anyone in the game. She doesn’t trust Dante because she just believes in him. We know this because she’s immensely skeptical of him and if he’s going to be helpful up until after the succubus boss fight. And we know she’s skeptical of him because she questions Vergil about it and she remains skeptical, keeping Dante an arm’s length away. She is not naïve. She trusts Vergil because he’s earned that trust.

It’s hard not to see how he managed to do that. He helped her kill her foster father and escape a bad situation, but it’s what happened after that solidifies this deep connection between the two. Kat tells Dante how Vergil helped her afterwards while she coped with the trauma and it’s something she mentions more then once. Kat’s trust and loyalty to Vergil is because he’s earned it. Because he has seen her at her worst and did not run. He stayed. He helped her through it. And still he stays now. It’s easy to imagine this going both ways, that seeing Kat ‘raw’ as he says makes Vergil vulnerable right back.

Plus, Vergil compares Kat when he first met her to Dante (‘He’s raw. Just like you were when I found you.’).  I think one would be hard pressed to refer to reboot Dante, the one with self proclaimed trust issues, as naïve.

So, we have a relationship of deep trust between the two over what is implied to be a long time. The sort of trust and intimacy you get when someone sees all of you and knows all of you. At least, I think that’s Kat’s end. When it comes to Vergil…well, opinions are complicated.

There are the three options of how Vergil feels about Kat if we simplify it down. One, he was using her and this was all to use her and get the plan finished. Two, he was using her but grew to care for her over time. Three, he was never using her and this was all real. I’m three all the way but one and two aren’t really contradicted anymore than three is. Which is an issue when talking about Kat and Vergil and trying to be all inclusive but also concise. There’s no one answer. There are just different opinions on what the answer is.

For me, it’s hard to reconcile the idea that he did not care for her with what we see in Vergil’s Downfall. Or when we have moments like his genuine joy that she’s alive in the server room. It’s hard for me to reconcile the idea of Vergil using her this whole time when it feels like a lot of work to keep her at his side when she can’t even control her powers. It’s hard for me to reconcile the deep connection I see between them.

For other people, the opposite is hard. Seeing what happened in the server room, seeing Vergil write off Kat entirely, seeing him call her useful and referring to humans as subjects, cannot be reconciled with the idea that he genuinely cared for and about her. Or how one could get a very loyal side kick the way he goes about this, saving her and giving her a home and purpose and everything. It’s an easy way into getting a loyal assistant.

All that I can tell you is how I see it. And what I see is two people with a deep intimacy with each other. The relationship may be messy and complicated and not perfect, but that’s what I see. That’s not what everyone sees, and that’s ok. That’s just what I see and that’s what this post is about.

I think its notable to about how important this relationship is because Vergil actually gets like, jealous about it. I get side tracked for too long when I go on about this so, in keeping things short, we see Vergil in the background get frustrated with things Dante says to Kat (namely the ‘I like it rough’) and we see him get kind of jealous in the game. But we really see it in Downfall. And sure, there are things he’s jealous about that pertain to Dante that aren’t Kat related. But there are things that do relate to that. We mostly see this, again, with Hollow Kat. She pisses him off when she mentions Dante being a real man. There’s of course stoking at Vergil’s insecurities since he’s lost to his twin and he already seems to feel envious about how easy things are for Dante and everything. But there’s also the fact it’s Kat saying it. It’s Kat who’s telling him she prefers Dante. That stings Vergil, this idea Kat cares about Dante more than him.

Part of this I think is from the fear that Kat will run off to Dante because of their similar backgrounds. They both have similar childhoods, something Vergil didn’t experience. Which, going back to what I said, a person who must pride himself on how well he knows Kat (and how well she knows him) must find that kind of threatening. 

There’s this scene added in the Definitive Edition. Before that we were left to assume Kat wandered the tower and that’s how she mapped it for the twins, but the Definitive Edition makes it clear canon. This makes the scene where Mundus records himself with Kat as a threat to the twins the only time we see Kat out of body in the game. During this experience, she assumedly betrays Vergil’s name to Mundus. Before the Definitive Edition scene, I always just kind of wrote off that moment. Kat’s under extreme duress, she’s just saying whatever at this point. I thought this for years after, to.

But then one day, after replaying the game for the umpteenth time, a thought came into my head. She’s out of body, in Limbo, surrounded by demons. She says his name because Kat is looking for him. She say’s his name because despite what happened in the server room, she still trusts Vergil. She doesn’t say Dante’s name, she doesn’t call for anyone else. She calls for Vergil. Because who else would she call for if not Vergil, the person she’s closest to and the person who saved her before?

It’s this sort of thing that makes the betrayal hurt as badly as it does for well, everyone. Us, Kat, Vergil, Dante. But focusing on Kat and Vergil, it’s the trust. It’s this deep bond between the two of them that’s suddenly shattered. What do you do when this person you think you know so well doesn’t do what you expect? When they do the exact opposite, actually? When they suddenly don’t understand you at all? It’s such a foundational relationship for the two of them to, it’s earth shattering to go from knowing a person so truly and deeply to looking at a stranger. This is all kinda true for Vergil who must have expected Kat to understand even if he may have thought she’d get upset. But this is all extremely true for Kat

It’s kind of a double sided betrayal. While I’m not really going to say Kat betrayed Vergil, because she didn’t she stayed true to her word and what she thought they were fighting for and everything, Vergil feels betrayed to, just like Kat and Dante. And oh does Kat feel betrayed. One of my favorite like, animation, character moments is like the pure disbelief, anguish and betrayal on Kat’s face at the betrayal it’s so well done. Like even the little look she does out over the city then back to Vergil like it’s just its good but not important back to topic. Kat thought they were fighting to free humanity. And Vergil seems to truly think this is for the best, if humanity is under his rule.

While one can argue Vergil’s goal was power, I feel like Vergil’s goal was the same he had from the start. Vergil wanted to free humans. He’s not even wrong, really. If Dante and Vergil do not put someone on the throne to replace Mundus, a new demon will take his place. Without someone controlling the demons, the demons will wreck havoc uncontrolled. However his wording could use some work. That said do I think Vergil is susceptible to power corrupting him. Absolute power corrupts absolutely sort of deal. I feel like him and Dante are similar in this regard, neither I think is quite equipped to rule with the amount of power that Vergil proposes they get. I also think Vergil didn’t think he’d get to this part, I don’t think he really thought about what happens after Mundus. Not the specifics. He ended up with this conclusion later in the game, and as a result never floated it by anyone. And to be fair, no one asked.

Kat always seems so full of hope at the end, right after she get’s Dante to stop killing Vergil and everything. She’s got these big Kat eyes, like she expects now things will go back. Vergil will say this was a joke and he’ll come back and things will be normal and she will have her best friend and the world will be safe. But that’s not what happens. Vergil leaves, of course (not after him and Kat have a long extended stare where they must be wondering mutually if the other will change their mind, if she will follow or he will stay). The whole ending in general from start to finish we get a lot with Kat and Vergil subtext. How she manages to get him to listen for a moment, even if Dante ends up getting him too angry to listen by the end. How Kat goes out on a limb to save Vergil, even if she didn’t have to.

She must be wondering, to, how real it all was. Dante’s answer I think is that it wasn’t. From what he saw, from his limited scope, it wasn’t. He cannot reconcile it, and why should he? He was thrown into their lives and resistance group with no context and he ends with little more. But Kat’s left wondering, and Vergil’s left regretting, and I’m left lamenting about the very large lack of post game Vergil/Kat content. 

I don’t know. I could keep going. At just over four Microsoft Word pages, this is the shortest attempt I’ve made at this. And I will surely write up some more analysis on them, I didn’t even get to talk about fun stuff like Kat’s theme (or the comics but I left those out on purpose I have…complicated opinions on the comic), or like more about the whole divine/human angle here. I could keep going on and on and on like analyze every little microsecond and sound like this:

Which, to clarify, I will 100 percent do if prompted lmao. But I guess the short of it is, in my biased opinion, I think Kat and Vergil are in love. I think it was real. I think Vergil found her and he helped her because she needed help. I think they know each other better than anyone else. I think some things may have gotten muddled in the mists of being in a rebellion and saving the world and that rebellion was their priority. I think going into the DmC: Devil May Cry post game must be complicated for them, unable to let go of the other but unable to come back. It’s the sort of complicated relationship and tragedy I find fun to write and to read. That’s how I see it, anyway.

Also I mean idk if we are to believe Vergil’s bigger dick comment as truth, who else saw both Dante and Vergil’s dicks? Who except Kat? Who else had this info? Who else would Vergil believe? Just saying. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.  

(edit: also I spelled hollow wrong like multiple times in this essay forgive me it should be fixed now lmao)

[fandom-necromancer]

A matter of comfort

This was prompted by the amazing @iamsofternow ! I hope you enjoy! This story involves trans topics. As I’m not trans myself, please tell me if anything I wrote is wrong or could hurt someone! I will change/delete it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: implied body disphoria, trans character written by a non-trans author)

Nines was running just behind Gavin following the fugitive android. He cursed as he should have caught up to the criminal long ago, hadn’t it been for the fugitive’s companion who had nearly ripped his left leg from its socket as he had interfaced to induce stasis for later arrest. Like this, he could only keep up with his human partner that was blocking his sight remaining surprisingly on the optimal path to catch up even with the faster model. Right as they turned the corner though, Nines got a good view of their fugitive, who had turned in just the right way to pull out a pistol from his side. Although the supposed weapon was still masked behind his body, Nines had already pre-constructed the probability of the bullet hitting his partner. So, right when he exited his pre-construction software, he shouted: ‘Gavin! To the left! Now!’

The exact second, he shouted “now” the bang of the pistol being fired echoed through the air and Gavin jumped aside and out of the way. Nines realised three outcomes next: First of all: Gavin would survive. Secondly, the bullet would hit him instead, directly into his thirium pump, causing him to bleed out and overheat in mere seconds. And lastly: His momentary momentum was too high to break or redirect in his weakened and damaged state, causing him to run directly into the railing, tip over it and fall into Detroit River. That didn’t mean he tried to stop that outcome anyways, hoping for that few percent chance the universe would align to save him.

But in the end, it was futile, as he felt his body fall and saw the water rushing closer. All he could do was shutting down before the water would cause him to short-circuit and hope that someone would care enough to fish him out of the river.

-

‘Nines!’ Gavin had jumped to the side as soon as the android had said something and only started running again, as he registered Nines had been shot in his place. He watched as the android stumbled forwards, trying hard to halt before the railing, but even to the human it was obvious he wouldn’t make it with the way his left leg slipped under his weight. He had to watch as the android toppled over, desperately trying to reach for the vertical bars but hands grasping only air. And then he disappeared.

An agonisingly long moment later, Gavin found himself at the very same railing, leaning over and staring down at the splash that was the only evidence Nines hadn’t just simply disappeared into thin air. ‘Nines!’ Could androids swim? Was Nines light enough so it was even possible? Was he even waterproof? How severe had the wound been? Would he survive this? He was short of jumping himself, but held himself back, calling backup instead. He informed them of what had happened, that their fugitive had escaped and was armed. ‘I need a technician here. And… A diver probably. As soon as possible!’

About an hour later, Gavin stood at the side of a scene that could have been finny hadn’t it been his partner: A tow truck had parked at the edge of the pier and pulled up Nines’ motionless body with a wench. A team of technicians as well as a group of the experts that had worked on the sole prototype’s development had gathered around the truck and got to work immediately as soon as the android was lowered to the ground. Multiple cables were hooked up to his neck port while others carefully opened as many compartments manually as they could to let the water out. The partial reactivation half an hour later made Gavin hope for good news, but the technicians shook their heads.

‘What?! What is it?’ ‘He shut down before hitting the water, that’s good. His memory core is likely the best protected part of him, therefore it is still intact. The person you got to know is still there.’ ‘I hear a but coming’, Gavin sighed. ‘Yes. He won’t be able to use this body. The damage is too intense. He will need almost a full body replacement and as he is the only unit ever developed, we can’t just put him in a new one. We will have to contact people that have already resigned if they haven’t fled the city after the revolution. It will take a long time until we are finished rebuilding him.’

Gavin’s face fell. ‘How long are we talking here?’ ‘At least six months. Likely more if we don’t have all the blueprints readily available. Some of it was top-secret and some only Kamski’s AI had access to.’ ‘So effectively, Nines is dead for the next six months, possibly more?’ ‘We will try our best to come up with a solution.’

That was about all of an explanation Gavin got as the technicians carried Nines over to a van, laid him down in the transport area and drove off after leaving their contact details with Fowler, who had only just arrived at the scene. He stood there, answering his Captain’s questions once again and then returned to the precinct where he was supposed to carry on with his job. Because Nines was in repair and taken care of and he would recover eventually. Seemingly only Gavin sat there staring at the empty chair and worrying how the hell he was supposed to continue like this without his partner, a pain in the ass but still by now a person he considered a friend or at least acquaintance, missing for half a year.

-

When Nines stood in front of the station, he felt uncomfortable. Not only because of the attention his unannounced visit would likely cause, but also because of his body. His old clothes stretched in places it hadn’t before, his considerably weaker state compared to his old one was unsettling, and his perspective had changed too. He was looking at the world from a point far lower now. It was an overall weird feeling.

He entered the lobby and walked up to the reception, grimacing as he pulled out his badge and pass. ‘Hello. I’m Detective Nines, I’d like to talk to Fowler.’ He cringed at the high pitch in his voice he couldn’t modulate like he could do with his own. The android behind the counter frowned, so Nines extended his hand – so much smaller and more defined, almost sculpted – for an interface. Soon after, the receptionist smiled at him the next second and let him pass the security gate.

Nines directly marched towards the glass cube of Fowler’s office, ignoring the confused faces of his colleagues. He tried to walk with just as much confidence as he always had, but it was difficult now that he had everyone’s attention. The only reason he wasn’t stopped by any of them was that the receptionist obviously had let him pass and not activated any alarm yet. He sighed, entering the glass cube and waiting for Fowler to get off his phone call. What was nearly immediately happening.

‘Who are you? What are you doing here? Who let you in?’ ‘I’m Nines’, he declared, handing over his badge and service weapon. ‘I think I’ll have some explaining to do.’

-

Gavin had watched the foreign woman walk into the bullpen like it was nothing out of the ordinary. He exchanged glances with Chris and Tina, who both just shrugged and looked back to the reception. But as no one came running after her, they just collectively frowned and waited for what would happen next. At least the woman seemed to know exactly where to go and she headed directly for Fowler’s office. Maybe someone from the higher ups? But she was an android… Not to be racist, but most of them hadn’t yet made it so far up the ladder, even with the new regulations in place. He watched her enter the office and hand an object over, then the glass frosted over for privacy, leaving them wonder but soon getting back to their work.

‘Everyone!’ Gavin’s head lifted up from the paper he was working on to look towards the stairs in front of the glass cube. Fowler was standing next to the woman and Gavin froze. That could only mean… Had they replaced Nines already? He had only been gone for a week and a half. ‘This is Nines. Cyberlife found a way to transfer him into a new body, so he isn’t missing life for half a year. I expect you to treat him the same way you did before and help him to adapt the best he can. Now back to work.’

Gavin always prided himself to be unphased by almost everything. This though? This had his mouth gaping in surprise. And he wasn’t the only one. But of course, the woman – Nines – was approaching their desk already, and he forced himself to stand up and keep his face under control. ‘Nines?’ ‘Yes.’ Gavin had to look really intently to notice it, but the way the woman looked to the ground ashamed or maybe embarrassed had something entirely Nines to it. ‘Yes, it is me.’ ‘Holy shit, it’s nice to see you’re still alive’, Gavin sighed as even considering everything, this had been the most important thing. ‘What- How- They told me it would take over six months!’ ‘Yes, I was informed. My own body will indeed need more time to be repaired. About that time actually. But for the time being, they transferred me into this tracy model.’ ‘A tracy?’ ‘They are the only ones that are compatible with my programming.’ ‘Would have thought they’d put you in a RK800.’ ‘We have a similar architecture, yes. But only Tracies are able to freely download additional data and programs outside of their own… purpose and are the only android model aside from custom ones that allow intense modification. My personality isn’t that extensive, but my military programming is. Therefore, they put me into this body.’ ‘Well, it’s good to have you back’, Gavin stammered. ‘I… I don’t know if I’m so happy about it. Maybe just waiting those months would have been better. At least for me. I wouldn’t have noticed the time.’ ‘Then why didn’t you do that?’ Nines stepped from one foot to the other. ‘I don’t want to miss that much time. And I worried that… That being gone for so long would alter your view of me. Also, someone obviously has to look after your ass on missions like the last one.’ Gavin chuckled at that. ‘Yeah, thanks for that, I… I guess you saved my life.’

They kept standing there awkwardly, unsure what to say or if they should rather be quiet. It was Nines, who spoke up in the end: ‘Should we get back to work? Did you catch the fugitive?’ ‘Hmm? Yeah, sure.’ Both of them sat down and Gavin updated him on their cases, after which they both got back to work. But something kept Gavin looking back at Nines and it wasn’t him trying to adjust the chair to his new hight. ‘Hey, err… you said you don’t know if you are happy about being back… Is there a reason for that?’, he finally asked. Nines looked up. ‘Yes, actually… This might be dumb, I mean androids and genders don’t really make sense, but… I feel weird in this body. I guess it is a matter of adaption, but… If I could, I would love to have my own back. This is… highly uncomfortable.’ ‘Just because of the body or-‘ ‘Gavin, I’m a woman now. For at least the next six months. And I have never been a woman before. This is… alienating.’ Gavin swallowed. ‘I… first of all, others see you as a woman. That’s not necessarily the same as being one. Second-‘ ‘I don’t see a difference there’, Nines interrupted. ‘Okay, as someone to who this really matters: There is a difference. And as I was about to say, I might be able to help you.’ ‘And how’s that?’ Gavin grimaced, looking around to see if anyone heard them. It wasn’t something he considered a secret, but he still had only come out to his closest friends, mostly because it was personal. ‘Well, Nines I haven’t exactly always been considered male myself… Maybe I kinda get how you are feeling at the moment. Just saying I might be able to help you if you want that.’ ‘I…’ Nines looked at him and maybe it was the fact that this new body’s eyes were just as blue as his own, but Gavin could clearly see the surprise and relief on his face. ‘I would appreciate that.’

-

They met on neutral grounds the next weekend with the overall plan to get Nines something comfortable to wear and help him set a few things clear. As Gavin waited on the bench outside the mall, he was playing with his thumbs lost in thought. Yes, okay, he would admit he felt guilty about the whole ordeal. He knew far too well how it could feel being uncomfortable most of the time simply because of existing in a space with others that didn’t see you as you truly were. Being the cause of that was just… Nines had taken a bullet for him and now suffered the consequences. The least he could do now was help where he could and make these six months as comfortable as it could be for the android.

‘Hello, Gavin. So, what’s the plan?’ Gavin jerked up pulled from his thoughts and only then adjusted realising this wasn’t a random woman asking him, this was Nines. ‘Err… Hi. Yeah, err, I thought to get some clothes for you? But I don’t know what will help you. What bothers you the most?’ ‘I don’t really know’, Nines shrugged. ‘I’m just… bothered? What was the first thing you changed?’ Gavin cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. ‘I… Well, I changed pronouns. Told them I would like to be addressed as a he, not a she. Then I changed my name to fit my identity. But err… you don’t have to do that, you are seeing yourself as male, right?’ ‘I don’t see myself as anything, Gavin’, Nines disagreed. ‘I am a program running on hardware that is now considered female. So I guess, I would switch to female pronouns? It would cause less confusion and spare me the explanation every time I’m introduced.’ ‘Nines, this isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for you.’ ‘I’m more comfortable not talking to strangers about my personal life if we are on a case.’ ‘Okay’, Gavin said, lifting his arms in defeat. ‘It’s your decision. But by the way, you can also go by them or other pronouns. It’s not that uncommon and it would go with your personal perception.’ ‘I will be considered female’, Nines determined. ‘At least for the time I possess this body. I may think of adapting something else once I’m back in my body.’

‘Alright’, Gavin nodded. ‘Do you want to change your name, too?’ ‘My name will remain Nines. I like it and I see no reason to change it.’ ‘Nice’, Gavin commented. ‘Then let’s see if we can get you something to wear that’s not Cyberlife branded.’

-

The months had passed quicker than thought. After an initial adapting phase, work almost went back to normal. Gavin had went shopping with Nines, buying a bunch of clothes both baggy and tighter as Nines hadn’t been sure if she wanted to accentuate her body or hide it just yet. She did underline that she liked tighter clothes as they didn’t get in the way as much, but in the end, she seemed to settle mostly on hoodies that were some sort of a compromise of both.

During work Gavin noticed a few things neither of them could change or disregard: Nines was slower now. The Tracy body wasn’t built to withstand higher forces and overheated far too quickly in high demand tasks, limiting Nines to only slightly above human levels of speed and endurance. She wasn’t as durable either. Without armoured plates and reinforced hull segments, almost every hit to her meant repairs and replacement parts. Gavin learned quickly to keep watch of Nines and more than once catch a blow from some criminal directed at her if it meant she would be spared the trip to a technician – although she always scolded him for that. Reduced strength of her model compared to her former soldier unit also meant Gavin had to constantly remind her of it, much to Nines’ frustration.

By the time the fifth month started, almost everyone had adapted to Nines’ new self and the call from Cyberlife that her body was repaired was almost like a wake-up call. Gavin and Nines had grown closer during these few months. Gavin had helped her whenever she asked for it and the mutual need to look out for each other now had changed their dynamic quite a bit. Gavin considered Nines his best friend by now, maybe even more considering how intimately familiar they both had become. He had shared stories with her he had never told anyone else about and Nines had in turn been the first person, Gavin had met outside of the internet that shared his experience. How often they had just sat next to each other on a couch in either of their apartments, sharing their thoughts holding each other close. Each of them telling the others their personal worries to in turn be comforted. Sure, Gavin had known that one day Nines would get her body back and the way she smiled, honest and bright, he could only feel happiness himself. But again, there was that little voice in the back of his head that told him it all would change now. And he didn’t want it to.

-

He parked the car in front of the Cyberlife Tower, forcing a smile at Nines sitting next to him. She smile back at him, obviously more than excited to walk over, but hesitating. ‘Will you wait for me here?’ ‘Of course’, Gavin nodded fondly and patted her shoulder reassuringly. ‘See you in a bit.’ He watched her walk towards the entrance turning back to give him a little wave of her hand and then disappeared behind the doors. Gavin’s smile fell and he leaned back against the backrest. Why did this feel like goodbye? Nines would be the same person when she- when he? – came back outside. He was just worrying too much, surely.

But when two hours later, Nines emerged dressed in his tight black turtleneck and white custom-tailored leather jacket that looked just like her - his - uniform had without the Cyberlife logo, his heart sagged. He stepped out of the car regardless and stood there awkwardly, as Nines came closer, hugging him with a strength that hurt as he was spun around. ‘Ahh, phck, Nines, too much!’ ‘Sorry’, the far, far deeper voice chuckled and put him down. ‘Ah, it’s good to be back in my own body.’ ‘Heh, yeah…’, Gavin commented, rubbing his arms. ‘Guess so.’ ‘I can finally see everything again’, Nines marvelled and blinked before bending down to pick up a small pebble to throw it with a force as if he planned on sending it into orbit. ‘Oh, yes, I missed that. I can finally calculate everything I want to again. I can analyse samples again, I can switch to infra-red and night vision and I can scan-‘ Apparently, the android had tried everything while listing it and now frowned. ‘Gavin, are you alright?’

‘I am’, he hurried to reassure. ‘Just… You have your body back. Anything else changed?’ ‘Oh. I guess I would go by male pronouns again. Just to avoid confusion. And… I will likely change my wardrobe again, because I doubt any of the shoes will fit. But other than that… not really. Why?’ ‘Oh, nothing, just… Nah.’ Gavin opened the door and entered the car, just to escape the situation. Too bad Nines followed and sat down on the passenger side. Gavin went to turn the key in the ignition, but was stopped by a hand – too large, too powerful, far harder than before. ‘Gavin, please. We used to talk about these things, not swallow them. I… Nothing has changed. I promise. I’m still me. My body changed, but what is my body than a means to interact with the world? I am still the same.’

‘I just…’, Gavin began but stopped himself again. ‘Nines, I… Before all this happened. Before you saved my life I hardly knew you. We were work partners and you were pleasant company. But there wasn’t… We only really became friends when you changed. When you needed my help. Now that you have everything back, I… I’m worried you will just get back to business as usual.’ Nines seemed to think about all he had just heard, then turned around judging by the sound of his clothes. He remained silent though, so Gavin risked a glance over. Nines was staring at him directly, his eyes full of concern and maybe even fear. And yes, some things stayed the same. Nines was still looking at him the same way, with the same expression. ‘Gavin. It is true I needed your help, but you are a fool if you think I only kept you company because of that. I like you. I really do. And in those few months I realised what I feel for you is more than I ever felt for anyone. I may be back in my body and have less problems, but… Gavin, I still need you.’ ‘You do?’, Gavin asked sceptically. ‘Sure’, Nines grinned. ‘Who else can I sit around with in parks judging the people passing by. Who else can I gossip with about our co-workers? And who else can I talk to when I need someone to really listen? Gavin, when I say nothing changed, I mean it.’

Gavin still didn’t look convinced, so Nines took a different approach. ‘You once told me that it isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for yourself. I think you should understand, that just because you helped me, my need for help isn’t what makes me like you. You were there for me when I needed you most. Because of that I know you will be there for me always. And that makes me comfortable regardless of the body I am in. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes’, Gavin answered silently. ‘Yes, I do. Thank you.’ ‘I have to thank you’, Nines corrected. ‘But for now, I think we should celebrate this, shouldn’t we?’

[youralternantpersonality]

Thanksgiving

Paul x Reader: Thanksgiving

Warning: Child Protective Services (CPS) and Adult Protective Services (APS) involvement mentioned. Death of elderly, and implication of abuse and neglect are written

Takes place LONG after the war with the Volturi; Renesmee is 16 and Jake JUST imprinted on her. Not when she was a baby. Let’s just act like Bella didn’t almost die when she had her and they just moved away until recently, okay? Cool.

Also like I said before, all the imprints are the same age as the guys. No pedophilia bs is EVER in my stories.

***

I met Leah in my Sophomore year at Washington State. I was going into Development and Family Structure whereas she was going in to be an RN like her mother. We met in a Health and Sex class that was considered as an elective course. Because we had to travel across campus to make it to this class, we always ended up sitting in the back of the class together. Eventually creating a friendship that you’d rarely see develop and stick together. Now, we’re Juniors and I am currently packing to head to La Push with her and her boyfriend Lajohn for Thanksgiving since I didn’t have a family.

I was lucky if I’m honest. I was given to the state at 12 after CPS finally indicated that my parents weren’t fit to take care of me and my grandmother. Unfortunately, it took the death of my grandmother for anyone to do anything. Although I was given to the state at 12, I didn’t leave until I was 18. The likelihood of getting adopted after 10 is slim. I was happy for those who did, but it hurt to see some of them come back. You realize through others that just because the idea of parenting is wonderful, being a parent is completely different. I was lucky enough to take advantage of resources that were provided for me and some of the other kids that lead me to this point.

I got my first job at 16 and worked from then onward. I applied to college and financial aid as fast as I was able to so that I wouldn’t be alone. I receive enough grants and scholarships for my associates and now working on my bachelor's. My previous roommates were, well, trash; which motivated me to get a job and move into the nearby apartments. My roommates now are chill, we all just don’t talk to one another. Which lead me back to this moment at my apartment.

“I don’t know what to wear!” I said looking in my closet for a perfect outfit to bring to Thanksgiving.

“I don’t know why you’re stressing about it. I told you, no one is going to care. But, if you’re that worried, wear the ripped jeans and the black off the shoulder sweater shirt. Oh! And the booties!” Leah said going through my closet. Even though she says and acts like she doesn’t care about fashion and appearance, I know deep down in the pits of hell that we call her soul, that she really and truly still doesn’t, but she has a soft spot for it.  

“Thank you! Oh, and I’m mad at you, you bitch.” I said packing up the outfit.

“What, why?”

“You got your eyebrows done without me! You see mine looking like Chewbacca over here!”

“I’d say more like baby Chewbacca…”

“That’s not the point!”

“Sorry, look, it should be around 12:30 or 1 by the time we get to Seattle, we’ll stop there. I promise.” She says smiling while hugging me. Bitch.

“Fine. Now let’s go before Lajohn comes up here like a brat crying.” We laugh and start heading towards the door. We have a long seven and a half hours to get to La Push. Let’s see how this goes.

~

We stop to get something to eat, fill up, and get my eyebrows done. Lajohn took that time to fall asleep in the car because knowing us, we’d get sidetracked and find some shit for everyone. But we resisted! Mainly because our paychecks don’t come in until next week and I’m barking on this dinner and the leftovers (if there is any based on what Leah tells me about her brothers) to last me until then.

 Paul’s POV

“Alright guys, now Leah is bringing her friend Y/n. can we please not repeat what happened when she brought Lajohn over to meet us.” Sam said, looking directly at Quil, Collin, and me.

“I swear I didn’t start it!” Collin tried to defend himself.

“It doesn’t matter who did or didn’t start it! We can’t have y/g knowing what we are. Lajohn is Leah’s imprint, she’s just her friend. Got it!” Jacob stated. I rolled my eyes but said nothing. I won’t lie though, I haven’t seen someone run as fast as he did, especially when he is almost as big as us and just as human as the next person.

“We won’t, I promise. Scouts honor.” Making a joke about this situation.

“You weren’t in boy-scouts Paul,” Jared said.

“That’s beside the point. Look, we’re not going to do anything to out us again.” I said with a smile. Not one person believed a damn thing I said, hell I don’t think I did either. But it’s worth a shot.

“Well now that we have that settled, we have to meet up with the Cullen’s. There’s going to be some unwelcome visitors stopping by in a few days, and the last thing we need is to deal with this on Thanksgiving.” Jacob said. We all got up and begrudgingly met up with the leeches. Can’t they give us a break?

Y/n POV

We pull up to this cozy small house with a swing set on the porch. A lady who I’ve seen in Leah’s room steps out of the house to greet us. I can positively assume she’s Leah’s mom.

“Lajohn! How are you!” She says, ready to embrace the giant man twice her size. Compared to Ms. Clearwater, he was a good foot and a half above her. Compared to Leah, a half a foot maybe. He was “6’7”, black hair in a fade, soft brown eyes, mocha skin, slim yet buff, and a complete gentle giant. He and Leah met in their anatomy class. She said she walked into class late after getting lost and the only seat available was in the front. The bad news was, she had one of those teachers who was a stickler and a petty asshole. He made it hell for her. The good news was, she met Lajohn who was good at the class and had no problem tutoring her. It was “Love at first sight” for both of them.

“Sounds like some hallmark bullshit. Let me guess, it was raining, you were soaking wet, and by the end of class he gave you his jacket and you looked into each other eyes and BAM! Instant connection.” I laughed. She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up Bunny. One day, it’ll happen to you. $20 says it will”

“What, falling in love or love at first constipation?” she gives me a look, and I just smile.

“Love you too Leah-bird” I laugh.

I snap back to reality to Leah joking around with another person coming out of the house. He looked just as big as Lajohn but resembled Leah and her mom. I can assume this was Seth. I step out and walk over to everyone as Lajohn goes to the car to get our luggage.

“Mom, this is my best friend-”

“Holy shit, Leah can make friends!?” Said the babyface giant.

“Will you shut up Seth! Yes, I can. Can you get a girlfriend? No, you can’t. So, hush.”

“Ouch Leah. That hurt.” He says folding his arms over his heart and rolling his eyes with a sad look on his face. I just want to make him cookies and tell him its okay.

“Anyways, this is my best friend Y/n. Y/n/n, this my mother Sue and my annoying-”

“Yet handsome.”

“-Little brother, Seth.” She says, ignoring him completely.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you guys. I’ve seen pictures of you guys back at Leah’s apartment and she talks about home all the time.”

“It's nice to meet you too Y/n. Come on in and let the guys get your stuff.”

“Yeah, Seth, chop-chop little puppy,” Leah says clapping her hands to rush him. He just looks at her and gives her the finger when their mom isn’t looking and walks towards the back of the car. I can hear him and Lajohn talking about some pack of cold ones. I don’t think Seth is old enough to drink…

The next day: Thanksgiving

For the rest of yesterday evening, Leah and Ms. Sue (who keeps on insisting I drop the Ms. Part; I will not, my grandmother taught me to always say Mr., Ms., and Mrs.,) showed me around town and I was able to meet Emily and Sam, and Jacob and Billy. They seemed welcoming. Emily especially, although, Sam, Jacob, and Billy seemed on edge with me. I told that to Leah and she reassured me that their faces and attitudes are always like that with everyone. Lajohn eased my worrying saying they were worse with him because he was dating Leah. He was more scared of Seth and their mom out of everyone though.

Currently, Leah, Ms. Sue, Lajohn, and I are on our way to Emily and Sam’s place. When we pull up, we’re greeted by her and a few other girls from the reservation. We walk up and I’m automatically hugged by this small “5’8” girl with wild layered hair with streaks of color in it.

“Hey everyone! Y/n, this is my niece Clair. Sorry, she just gets excited about meeting new people. And this is Halulah and Kim, Embry and Jared’s girlfriends. Come one inside, the guys will be back in an hour or so. That should give us enough time to finish the turkey and dessert.” I waved at them and we all went inside. That time was short-lived until we heard wolves howling in the distance and Sam and Lajohn were out the door. I was about to ask what that was about but was cut off by Leah shoving plates in my hands to set up the table.

A little while later, we hear laughter and thumping of footsteps coming from the front door.

“HONEY I’M HOME! Ouch! Jared! What was that for?!” one voice said.

“For being a dumbass, that’s why.” I assume is Jared’s voice.

“Language!” said Seth followed by a loud punch and a yelp from him.

“Ouch, damnit Paul! That hurt!” said Seth.

“LaNgUaGe!” said, who I can assume is Paul with a bolstering laugh. Emily rolled her eyes and looked at Sam, who looked at them before they turned the corner. A choir of “sorry” and “my bad” was said before they showed themselves.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet my children for all intended purposes. The boy who is giving Clair a piggyback ride to is Quil; the boy hugging Halulah is Embry—the one I told you about. This is Jared, Kim’s—godforsaken—boyfriend.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” she ignores him.

“Jake should be here with his girlfriend Nessie in a little bit, and the one behind us thinking I CAN’T SEE HIM STEALING THE TURKEY! Is Paul.” I looked behind her and catch a red-handed guilty-looking, Paul.

“Hey, at least I tri-” he stops mid-sentence as our eyes connect. I felt like I was in my apartment room reaching cloud 9. Everything around me blurred and all I saw was him. I felt my heart skip a beat and was knocked the air out of me. I couldn’t move, didn’t hear a sound, and kind of dizzy. I snap back when I hear laughter.

“Aww! Bunny! See! I told you it would happen!” Leah says laughing. I look at her confused then looked back at everyone else who was laughing too. Paul coughed and I looked at him. His expression went from being shocked, angry, sad, then content and surprised. He looked at Sam then walked over to me. Standing in front of me, he smiles and introduces himself.

“Hey, I’m Paul. What’s your name beautiful?” Damn, I guess I owe Leah $20.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 9

         A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Nine (NSFW)

Claire and Maia packed all the personal belongings until late into the night. Claire and Jamie would leave with the helicopter in the morning and Darius would take the boat to the island of Mykonos where it would be stored in dry dock, under cover.

“Thank you for helping me, Maia. I think we’re done and if we forgot something I’ll buy it new. Get some sleep dear one, tomorrow starts early.”

Claire pulled on a black silk suit with a short skirt, tailored jacket, and starched white shirt. Black heels and the blonde wig transformed her into the billionaire’s wife, and she walked with purpose onto the forward deck with the kitten tucked under her arm. The men swiveled their gaze, stuck on the long legs coming toward them.

“Good morning gentlemen, this my engineer…” Claire froze mid-sentence realizing they had not talked about Jamie’s name for introductions. Jamie smiled and extended his hand introducing himself as Gregory Patton.

“Ah, yes, Gregory.” They piled into the chopper and watched Darius wave from the deck before running to pull anchor and make way for Mykonos.

Jamie watched the pilot openly flirt with Claire and shoved his hands under his legs to keep from balling his fists. Thomas was giddy with the almost three-hundred thousand he made in two hours of work, so he was oblivious to everything. When the yacht came into view Jamie was enchanted. It was all white and huge compared to the other boat with three decks in the back, and two in the front. He forced himself to look out the window at the ocean to hide his wonder.

Claire and Jamie walked into the saloon as the chopper was already in the air. They were met by the owner’s wife who looked very distressed. Claire smiled and held her hand out asking if everything was alright.

“Yes, Misses Dunn but I’m afraid Adso is very unhappy today and unwell. He forgets so much these days and he doesn’t want to lose his beloved boat. It’s time for us to go ashore and be looked after by our children. Please understand if my husband is short with you.”

“I promise, and I understand. Who would want to part with this?”

They found the owner on the upper deck sitting in shade looking like he lost his family, his dog, and his best friend. Claire felt tears press against her eyeballs and took a deep breath. At that moment she shed her impersonation and became Claire, the compassionate, loving, woman Jamie fell in love with.

“Mister Rosen! How nice to see you again. This is Gregory, my engineer. I understand the money has been transferred and you have papers for me to sign.”

He didn’t look up at her or acknowledge Jamie. Claire sat down next to him as his wife explained she had purchased the boat and they would soon have to leave.

“Before you do, I was hoping you could give me the history of the boat and what it can do. Like, what are the upgrades and why did you choose them, what is the farthest you have taken it?”

When he didn’t respond she asked, “what did you love most about this boat?”

He seemed to grunt and liven up a bit, looking at her and the kitten.

“What’s that?”

“This is my kitten. It will live here on the boat with me.”

“What’s its name?”

“Adso.”

“Adso? That’s my name.”

“Well, that is fitting, isn’t it? Now then, what kind of adventures can I have on this magnificent boat?”

That seemed to break the older man out of his shell. He reached out to stroke the kitten and smiled as he launched into his stories of the exciting places they had been on the yacht. Claire’s probing questions kept him talking and Jamie watched him look younger with each sentence. Claire talked to him like they were old friends, took her jacket off and put her feet up. Jamie was ready to burst with pride in her and her compassion for the old man.

After two hours of laughing and storytelling, the wife told Adso it was time to go. The man looked at Claire with such excitement and said he was glad she would live here from now on.

“One more thing, sir. Whenever you want to spend a day exploring please do it with me.”

It was a great way to put closure on a difficult transition. He would always be welcome. Adso’s wife hugged Claire hard, knowing she just spent two hours out of the kindness of her heart and she loved her for it. She took her husband’s arm and walked across the saloon where their trusted captain waited to tender them ashore.

“You know, I think the engineer is sweet on our Mary, ha!”

Claire watched the tender pull away from the boat with a tear in her eye. Strong arms encircled her waist and Jamie’s silky voice spoke his pride, devotion, and love into her ear.

“Are you ready to see your new home handsome?”

“Lead on love.”

They started below deck in the engine room and laundry, came up one flight to the guest cabins and crew area with a separate kitchen and living area, up another flight to the main saloon and forward deck with a shaded area and table for dining and a sun area with lounge chairs, they went up a flight to a second saloon with full media support for movies and television with a second forward deck. Up another flight to the bridge with the captain’s quarters and the sun deck. Jaime was confused because they reached the top deck, but he hadn’t seen the master bedroom. Claire led him down to the main saloon showing the dining area, the galley, and straight ahead was the entrance to the master suite that blew Jamie’s mind. The level of luxury was astounding and beautiful. There was a separate deck for this bedroom that gave them privacy from the world. Large windows in the bedroom and bathroom, and a sixty-inch flat-screen that rolled out on command.

“Well, how do you like your new boat sweetheart.”

Jamie stood and caressed her cheek, holding her to him. “This is Mary Dunn’s boat and I will think of you every day for the rest of my life, on this amazing yacht. It’s my gift Claire, a trinket compared to how much I love you.”

Claire wiped her tears and gave a brave face, “I have something to celebrate our new home, I hope the Rosen’s left some glasses.”

The galley had a full service for eight; glasses, dishes, flat wear, stem wear and serving bowls. Claire pulled two glasses and opened the one bag she brought on the helicopter. She set the bottle of fine whisky and two glasses on a tray and went to Jamie on the forward deck. They toasted their new home and kissed, another glass and another kiss, the third glass made them lose themselves in a kiss that was life-sustaining for them both and they stopped thinking of life alone.

“Jamie, I remember you have a birthday this month, is that right? It was in the Louvre when we spent the afternoon talking and admiring the art. I believe the date is the twenty-first?”

“What a memory mo chridhe. The only thing I remember from that day is your skirt being pulled up by the wind, and how much I wanted to kiss you.”

She pulled his arms around her and looked at his half-smile. “Am I right?”

“Aye, you’re a clever lass.”

“I want to make your birthday memorable, what is your pleasure?”

“Marry me, Claire Beauchamp.”

She had not heard her real name in quite some time and to have it linked with a proposal made her eyes sting with tears. Jamie hugged her and asked if that was a yes and then chuckled at her tearful response that it was. He hugged her to him and felt humbled that she would pledge herself to him with such an unknown future.

“I’m not going back, Claire. I figured I couldn’t outrun them with face recognition in all the airports, banks, even department stores. Fingerprint evidence left behind everywhere I went, they would catch me eventually so I didn’t see any possibility of running. All that changed when you bought this boat, Sassenach. We just stay on the water and keep moving.” He touched her cheek, “it’s not perfect, but I will be so damn grateful for every day I have with you.”

Jamie kissed both of her wet cheeks and then a long kiss to her mouth, full of promises and love.

The sound of a boat horn pulled them apart and they looked for the boat that was pulling up to the aft deck to offload all their belongings. Darius boarded the yacht and worked the hydraulics for lowering the back platform where they all pulled bag after bag out of the arriving boat. Darius thanked the man who shuttled them back from Mykonos and Jamie handed the man a one hundred dollar bill which made him very happy.

The platform was raised back to its resting position and Claire looked at an exhausted captain and first mate. It was quite an undertaking to prepare a yacht for dry dock. A checklist that required several hours to complete and then pulling their belongings to the transport boat that would take them back.

“As the owner of this craft, I order you two to your quarters until dinner. Take whatever you need to get out of those uniforms and disappear.”

Darius looked at all the bags to be brought in and Claire exerted her position over the tired captain.

“That is an order captain, be gone with the both of you.” She smiled at Maia and felt bad she handled so much alone, the poor girl was about to collapse. “Wait! You are both required on the front deck for five minutes please.”

Claire poured four glasses of whisky, thanked them from the bottom of her heart, and they threw them back. “Now you can go.” She couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out when she was commanding but noticed the other couple did not argue. They were too tired.

The day was overwhelming for everyone. Claire had tempted Jamie’s sexual appetite too many times throughout the day, with marriage proposals, touring the boat, an intimate introduction to their bedroom. By dinner time he felt like a live wire and could not relax. Claire surprised everyone with a lovely chowder of leftover lobster, snapper, potatoes, cabbage, onions, and spices. She served the other three at the table and set warm rolls on the table as well as a large salad. It was delicious and she seemed so happy to do it, even Maia was happy to be served.

The frumpled couple retired to their rooms straight away and Claire cleared the table and started cleaning up. Jamie held her wrists to prevent her from grabbing another plate to rinse and turned her around kissing her soundly.

“Let me finish so you can get ready for bed. I want to sleep for twelve hours with you in my arms, but we have other business to attend to first.” He pulled her hand to his concrete erection and she gasped, smiling slyly.

Jamie made short work of the remaining dishes and slammed the dishwasher closed. His long arms reached every last crumb on the table and counters and leftovers were stowed in the vast refrigerator. He locked up, turned lights off, set the alarm, and grabbed the whisky and glasses on his way to the master cabin. When he stepped under the rainbird shower-head he decided it was the most exquisite shower he had ever felt. Entering the bedroom he noticed the covers turned down, but he was missing one fiancé. He looked beyond the huge sliding glass door and saw his love reclined on a double lounge. She was naked and he stepped into a beautiful night with his love ready to ease his pain.

“On your back, soldier.”

She stretched her long legs on either side of him and brought her warm mouth down on him tenderly, slowly, feeling him fill her to her throat. He moaned and gripped the lounge to keep his hands from forcing her down on him. Jamie’s head was spinning in her erotic ministrations and groaned when she straddled him, sliding her body down on him with a moan. He watched her in the moonlight, so beautiful, so lost in her arousal. He knew she had changed in the time they were together but had not the brain space to figure it out right then.

Claire was swept away with carnal love and she watched Jamie’s face feeling more and more out of control.

“Come for me lass,” was the last thing she heard before the winds of erotic release made her deaf and her body left the earth in the pulsing delight that rolled through her.

Jamie held himself back until he watched her face in orgasmic release and he groaned pulling her hips down on him until he was spent. He carried her to the enormous bed, laying her on soft cool sheets, a gift from the owner. When he turned off the lights, he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, and it took a while to find his future wife. He held her close and thanked God for such a spectacular woman, come what may.

The tall man covered ground faster than the average human due to his extraordinary stride. Usually an advantage he appreciated unless he was on his way to a dreaded appointment, like today. The Senator’s secretary didn’t move fast enough for Hesser, so he strode into Frank’s office and told him to hang up the phone.

“Nice of you to barge in this morning. What do you want?”

Hesser almost felt sorry for the ignorant punk in front of him who could no more win the gubernatorial race than fly to the moon. He needed Hesser behind him and Doctor Beauchamp at his side if he had a chance in hell.

“We are running out of time to bring your bride back Randall, let’s take a look at some possibilities of where she might be. We know she was in Chicago, Paris, Italy, where else might she have friendlies that would give her shelter? What languages does she speak?”

When Frank didn’t jump to answer the question, Hesser stood up and grabbed his collar yanking him to his feet.

“You better take this seriously Randall, without her you lose and your career is over. You are here because we want you here, it’s not your merit or sparkling history in politics you sanctimonious idiot. Let’s add worthless to that list.”

Hesser was disgusted leaving Frank’s office and dialed his cell phone as he left.

“I need fifty more agents assigned to the Beauchamp case. I will send you their destinations in an hour. Make the travel arrangements and copy the dossier for each of them.” He clicked off his cell and tried to remember which of the Greek islands they visited on their honeymoon. He couldn’t remember a single one and barely remembered his ex-wife's face now.

The moment Claire’s eyes opened in the morning her heart rate bounced into the happy zone and everything she saw made her want to jump up and down. After a delightful shower, she pulled on a bikini followed by shorts and a loose top. Her shipmates were in the galley preparing breakfast, decidedly concerned over the lack of food.

“We have the same amount of food, it just looks sparse because the frig is bigger. Okay, okay, we will buy food today.” She laughed at the sad faces and left them to open the doors to the wonderful sea breeze.

Over breakfast Claire asked how long it was safe to sit on this anchor, “is it okay to just stay here for now?”

“No.” Darius finished his coffee and pulled Maia into his lap. “I need you to weigh in on this Maia so stay for a couple of minutes before you start cleaning up. I think it’s logical Hesser will search the Greek islands next because it makes the most sense, Italy to Greece. I say we move on to Croatia as soon as the supplies are restored. One more thing, you should go ashore as a blonde, just in case.”

“I agree Sassenach, or stay onboard and let the rest of us go ashore.”

“I need some things so I have to go, but I’ll wear the wig. Let’s split up, each with our own list, we won’t be as noticeable that way and only buy what you can carry to the beach.”

They went their separate ways and Jamie caught up with Darius on the bridge. He requested some time, so they sat in the captain's chairs and faced each other.

“You’re a captain of a ship Darius. Can you marry us?”

Darius looked long and hard at Jamie. “You’re both running for your lives and you want to get married?”

Jamie looked at his hands folded in his lap. “I suppose you feel there's a lifetime to do the important things, but I don’t feel that way. I asked her and she said yes, so we want to do this as soon as possible. We will say our vows in front of the Almighty and that’s enough for me.”

“Jamie, I can marry you in international water but I cannot file the marriage in Greece, or anywhere in the world, it will lead them to you.”

“It’s enough to know we did it and if something happens to us you can file the marriage certificate post humus.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that!” Darius got up shaking his head and turned to Jamie before he left the bridge, “I’ll marry you. We head 200 miles out for the ceremony and then set course for Croatia.”

Jamie felt tingling in his head and wanted to shout it out the window of the bridge. Several deep breaths and a smile that made his cheeks hurt were good enough. He joined the others for making lists to shop.

Claire ushered Maia into her room and led her out to the deck where they sat knee to knee.

“Jamie asked me to marry him.” She almost fell over when Maia launched herself at Claire in a happy hug. “I hope we can marry on the boat, but I want it to be special. I need a dress and some kind of decoration. Will you stay in town with me and help me?”

Maia’s eyes brightened and she stammered something about forgetting her whole list and sending the men back to the boat to unload.

“If we start early enough, we should have at least a couple of hours to shop.”

“Perfect! You are my best friend Maia.”

Little Maia blushed at that compliment because she had put Claire on a pedestal from the first day. She was deeply touched.

Jamie and Darius spent the afternoon spearfishing while Claire and Maia created lists for everyone, laid in the sun, and then gawked at the enormous lobster and grouper brought back by the men.

Jamie was fascinated by the hydraulics lifting the tender out of the water and seemed to never run out of questions when Darius was around. The next day he had the tender on the water, tied to the back of the yacht when Darius walked onto the aft deck.

“For a guy new to the water you learn fast. I appreciate the help and think it’s time you became a proper first mate if you want to.”

“Yes, I do want to but it will hurt Maia’s feelings.”

“That little beauty has very deep feelings but they’re limited to love, compassion, support, and stubbornness if that’s a feeling. You watch, she will start teaching you too and your head will spin from too much information.”

Jamie locked the boat alarm into his phone app and they piled into the tender to shop in Santorini. Between the four of them, Jamie carried the lion’s share of groceries back to the tender an hour later. Like on cue, Maia pulled a folded paper from her pocket and complained about forgetting most of the items on her list. Darius looked at all the frozen food and said he would be back to get them.

“So we meet here in four hours?”

“Four hours?”

Darius shook his head in agreement and the girls watched the tender speed away before they ran to a garment shop.

Claire was getting upset because she couldn’t find anything suitable. Maia looked around trying to help her friend and saw something perfect for the occasion. She brought it to Claire who looked it over with a critical eye.

“You will shine in this color Claire, the fabric is beautiful.”

Claire looked Maia up and down and strode across the dress shop to pick the same garment out for Maia who was thrilled with the gift. Claire would wrap herself in a soft sarong in deep blues and gold. Maia’s sarong was graduated pinks and dark green leaves sprinkled throughout. The garments felt luxurious and the women were happy. Claire inspected the men’s shirts and pulled a gorgeous white collarless linen shirt out for Jamie.

“Be a good girl and give this to Jamie tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, shit, there’s something else I need. Is there a place around here to get artist paint?”

“Yes, and I will get the decorations and champagne while you do that.”

Maia was gone in a puff before Claire could say a word. She found a nightgown that looked and felt much like the one she wore in Paris and then made her way to the craft store. Claire struggled with so many bags that were getting heavier by the minute. Maia swooped in on her and took half of them giving a puzzled look at the contents.

“It’s Jamie’s birthday tomorrow. I want to give him something from his past and hope he will try to paint again. I need to hide this stuff in a bedroom downstairs, can you help me?”

Maia looked at her like she was kidding and pointed to the tender as their feet sunk into beach sand. Fortunately, Darius came alone saying Jamie was preparing dinner and making quite a mess. Claire collapsed into her seat, exhausted from her shopping marathon. Once back at the yacht, Maia grabbed the bags with art supplies and pointed to others for Darius to bring. When Jamie came out he grabbed Claire for a long hug. He held her to him as he pulled the tender out of the water with the wench and stowed it safely in the boat garage, returning the back platform to its upright position.

“You're rather good with all these buttons handsome. It’s kinda hot.”

“That fits nicely into my plan Sassenach.”

“Which is?”

“Something to do with lobster, whisky, a slave to my pleasure and you … oh! Sorry love, I’m burning the rolls.”

Jamie ran into the boat heading for the galley and Claire shook her head and laughed.

Spirits were upbeat through dinner. They had food for several weeks, a plan to get to Croatia, and a wedding tomorrow. They were all very happy to embark on the next adventure. Maia cleaned up after dinner and Claire went up to the sundeck that had full-size mattresses across the deck that she could lay on. She smiled up at the stars and couldn’t wait to feel the wind in her hair when they were racing to Croatia.

“I’ve been looking high and low for you love. May I join you?”

“Actually, I think you will be very comfortable here Jamie. There are blankets under the bar if you get cold. I love you so much. See you tomorrow to take our vows.”

“But Sassenach, wait, what about a slave to my pleasure and ….”

“That I will surely be, tomorrow. It’s bad luck to be together before the ceremony sweetheart. I’ll miss you tonight.”

Jamie found himself alone on the upper deck, but the stars were brilliant diamonds sparkling in the black sky and he never tired of that grand view. He laid on his back and looked at them for exactly three and a half minutes then he fell asleep.

Claire arranged the canvases, paint, brushes, and other supplies in one of the bedrooms below deck. She prayed she was not overstepping but could not resist trying. He was a brilliant artist so how could he ignore such a big part of himself? She locked the door and went to her room. She was exhausted.

Darius went to sleep right after dinner. He would get up in a few hours and turn the boat toward the open ocean. It would take eight hours to reach international water and he hoped to be there before everyone woke up for the day.

Maia paced the lower saloon, checking her cell phone every other minute. She had slipped away from Claire when they were shopping to find the flower shop run by her brother’s best friend. He was happy to see her and helped her pick out three buckets of fresh flowers and garland. She gave him every penny she had, a gift to her friends. He was supposed to be here to drop them off and she started getting nervous. Another ten minutes and she got a text that he was at the aft deck. He kissed her cheek and waved, soon swallowed up by the black night. Maia stowed the flowers in the second refrigerator and sighed in relief before locking up and setting the alarm.

Jamie felt cool air on his face and opened his eyes. He could swear the boat was moving, and fast. It took a minute to remember why he was on the sundeck alone and by then he was sure they were moving. He walked downstairs to the bridge and almost scared the skin off of Darius.

“Jesus, Jamie, I didn’t expect anyone to be walking up on me. This baby is quiet, like a purring kitten. God, I love this boat!”

“Uh, where are we going?”

“You want to get married tomorrow, I mean later today, so we’re heading for international water, be there in four hours. I need something to munch on.”

Darius headed for the stairs to the galley and Jamie swiveled his head from the bridge to the retreating Darius.

“Don’t you need to drive the boat?”

Darius had a mouth full of food and shook his head trying to say autopilot. Jamie looked worried about going this fast with no one at the helm. Darius slapped him on the back, “if you’re not going back to sleep let me show you around the bridge. Why were you sleeping on the sundeck?”

“Claire says it’s bad luck to be together before the wedding.”

Darius laughed so hard he almost fell out of the captain's chair, “that’s rich, it’s what I love about women, they never make any sense when it comes to love.”

They could see the first rays of sunrise by six in the morning and it was the most beautiful sight Jamie had ever seen. He watched the colors change in the sky and on the water, purple, indigo, scarlet, orange, and a lite blue on the horizon. They were surrounded by water without a hint of anything else as far as the eye could see.

“Did you hear that?”

There was a crash below and both men stiffened and quietly crept down the stairs. Seeing a bucket of flowers come around the corner almost scared them half to death. Maia looked up at them on the stairs with a very strange expression and kept walking toward the forward deck. They got back to the bridge in time to answer the ringing phone.

"How long until we’re there?”

“Maybe an hour, why?”

“Drop it to five knots, the wind is blowing my flowers apart.”

Darius pulled the throttle back, “God she’s bossy sometimes.”

Claire stretched in her magnificent bed and smiled at the smell of bacon and sausage. When she realized this was the day she was getting married, she bolted upright in bed with a gasp. A minute later she was heading for the bathtub and panicked it was already nine o’clock in the morning. She opened the big glass door to the deck and looked around, she was pretty sure Santorini and all the moored boats were missing, in fact, she saw nothing but water on all sides and they were moving!

Maia brought a tray of food for her and explained that Darius left Santorini at one o’clock in the morning and they were now in international water.

“How does ten o’clock sound for your wedding?”

Claire swung her head from Maia to the bathtub to the sarong that hung on her closet door. Her face was pale and she nodded her head vigorously. Maia laughed and told her to relax and take her time.

Claire felt overwhelmed with bombarding emotions and wondered if Jamie was a basket-case too. He must be she decided. Meanwhile, Jamie and Darius crashed in the saloon watching a prerecorded game. Maia hung Jamie’s new shirt next to the couch he was sleeping on and decided to let them sleep for a while longer while she pressed Darius’s uniform.

At nine-fifty, Maia came down to the saloon with her new dress, makeup, and curly hair cascading down her back. He shook Jamie’s arm, and then Darius, and announced the wedding started in ten minutes. The two of them were blinking hard and shaking the sleep off as Maia handed Jamie the new shirt, clean jeans, and left giggling.

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser said the traditional vows on the main deck surrounded by their two close friends and sweet-smelling flowers. Neither had a certain future, both were being hunted, and they would never stop running, albeit in luxury. They seemed oblivious to their circumstances and kissed like they were all alone in the universe. Afterward, Maia brought out champagne and fluted glasses to toast the newlyweds.

At the same time, CIA agents were landing on every Greek island with an airport, while others flew into Athens and hired a boat to their assigned island. Five agents were pulled off Italy and sent to Greece for a total of fifty-five CIA agents looking for Claire and Jamie with eight by ten glossy photographs of face and body. They were told to follow and get their location but do not engage, that privilege was reserved for Hesser.

[crybabysunflower]

Given characters as N.flying members

Introduction

Since I personally don't know the N flying members well, this blog is based on the perception of most of the other fellow fans I know. I will also be giving a short description on both the band and the anime series,

N flying is a South Korean rock band formed under FNC entertainment in 2013, the group had released its first digital indie single "Basket" in Japan on October 1 2013, the group debuted in Korea on May 20 2015, with their first EP including the lead single "Awesome". The group currently consists of the following members:-

Lee Seunghyub (Leader, vocalist, main rapper, rhythm guitarist), Cha Hoon (Lead guitarist, sub vocalist), Kim Jaehyun (Drummer), Yoo Hweseung (Lead vocalist) and Seo Dongsung (Bassist, Maknae).

Given is the anime which is based on the manga of the same name by Natsuki Kizu, the story follows around the lives of Ritsuka Uenoyama and his bandmates. One fine day Uenoyama comes across Mafuyu Sato who was sleeping on his favorite napping spot with a broken guitar, being desperate to defend his napping spot, Uenoyama decides to repair the broken guitar after which Mafuyu, being impressed, tries to persuade him several times to teach him to play the guitar, to which Uenoyama reluctantly agrees. After hearing Mafuyu's singing voice, Uenoyama was deeply moved by it and decides to recruit Mafuyu in his band as the lead vocalist, but Mafuyu's tragic past is holding him back.

The Members as the characters

Lee Seunghyub as Hiiragi Kashima

Hiiragi is described as a sweet guy who deeply cares for his friends, and as a leader, Seughyub is quite caring towards the rest of his bandmates, and sometimes for his fans when needed, like he had once saved one of his fans from a creepy stalker, because of their caring nature, both of them have a tendency to worry too much about others, after Mafuyu goes away and Shizusumi comes to comfort Hiiragi, he opens up about not being able to stop worrying, in one of the recent statement by Seunghyub where he wrote about being exhempted from his mandatory military service, he sounded quite apprehensive because, he was probably worried about offending his fans. One of the most prominent trait shared by both Hiiragi and Seunghyub is their "needy" nature, the fans often joke about how needy Seunghyub is for his younger members' affection. In Hiiragi's case, he seemed quite needy towards Mafuyu, because we often see him trying to meet Mafuyu over and over and talk to him, since he was quite desperate for Mafuyu's forgiveness.

Finally both of them are well known for nagging others, we see Hiiragi nagging Mafuyu from time to time, and Seunghyub is well known as the "King of Scolding" among the members and the fans alike.

Cha Hun as Ritsuka Uenoyama

At first glance, Uenoyama seemed like someone who is serious, aloof and the most "normal" member of his band, and this is usually the new fans' first impression of Hoon because, like Uenoyama he is pretty much of a grumpy cat and both of them can be quite scary at times. They are both described to be quite lazy, we see Uenoyama dozing off from time to time and let's not forget that he found Mafuyu at his favorite spot where he SLEEPS, as for Hoon we often see him mentioning that he hates to work out despite claiming to be athletic as a teen (this also reminds me of the fact that Uenoyama is in the basketball team, but we don't get to see him play that much), however they are both quite passionate towards their respective bands as the lead guitarists (both of them are highly skilled guitarists). Despite being a "cold" person we see Uenoyama warming up, showing his real, affectionate side as the story progresses. This also reminds me of Hoon because, he is actually quite soft and affectionate as well, especially towards his cat Romang and his bandmates.

Kim Jaehyun as Yuki Yoshida

If I really have to describe both of these young men in one word, it would be A Ray Of Sunshine, Yuki is described to be a really loud, cheerful guy who always seemed happy and is loved by everyone, these words can also be applied to Jaehyun as well because Jaehyun is no less charismatic than Yuki (Jaehyun really makes variety shows fun to watch). Both of them like to make other people smile, in the beach episode we see Yuki immediately apologising for saying "the ocean is gonna kill him" and then said that the ocean is awesome (in the beach episode it was evidient that he was trying his best to cheer Mafuyu up). Another common trait shared by both of them is that they like to "show off", Hiiragi describes Yuki as a flashy person who likes to show off, which reminds me of Hweseung once yelling that Jaehyun brags too much. However behind their cheerful aura, both of them are quite soft hearted, in Jaehyun's case, the first time fans saw him crying was when N flying won the award for their song Rooftop, and Yuki is well known to put on a brave face to hide his pain. Finally Jaehyun is described to be someone who is quite carefree in nature and the fact that Yuki nonchalantly told Mafuyu that he wants to make out with him in the bathroom at the beach in broad daylight shows that he is quite carefree as well.

Yoo Hweseung as Haruki Nakayama

Haruki is described to be a pure, kindhearted young man who is cheerful and carefree in his interactions, which is kind of similar to Hweseung, however Haruki can actually be quite shy and easily blushes when flattered, and despite having an extroverted personality, Hweseung was actually quite shy back in 2017 when he had joined the band as the lead vocalist. They are both super affectionate towards their bandmates because of which we see Haruki often spoiling his friends, Hweseung often talks about how hard his hyungs work and had also once mentioned how he wants to teach and take care of Dongsung more . Haruki is described to be the mediator of the band who often resolves conflicts which also reminds me of Hweseung being the "moderator" of the band. However both of them are sometimes seen to be quite insecure about their musical skills, Haruki is sometimes seen to be insecure about his skills compared to other members, which reminds me of Hweseung mentioning how he wants to improve more (despite have a very emotional yet powerful voice). They are sometimes seen teasing their bandmates, we once see Haruki was teasing Uenoyama with Akihiko by repeatedly calling him a "good boy", as for Hweseung, being one of the youngest members, he is well known for annoying his bandmates.

Seo Dongsung as Mafuyu Sato

Mafuyu is described to be a shy, introverted and reserved boy who has a hard time expressing himself, which reminds me of Dongsung who, being the new member of the band is no less reserved than Mafuyu because of which both of them appear to be quite mysterious. Mafuyu is shown to be a really obedient boy who goes to the Light Music club after Uenoyama tells him to learn guitar from them instead and his obedience is also shown when he goes for searching for a part time job after the day when the rest of his bandmates tells him to do so. In Dongsung's case he is described to be an obedient maknae as well. One of the prominent traits shared by both Mafuyu and Dongsung is their strong desire to learn, Hweseung once appreciated this trait of Dongsung and despite being shy, Mafuyu was actually quite determined about learning to play the guitar from Uenoyama and thus had repeatedly pursued him for that purpose. Their strong desire to learn makes both of them diligient when it comes to their respective bands and both of them are quick learners.

However despite being shy and sweet, they can at times be quite savage towards others, we see Mafuyu mocking at Hiiragi when he told that he (Hiiragi) is the vocalist, this reminded me of the time when Dongsung repeatedly posted "Hoon hyung is dumb" during one of their lives.

Conclusion

To be honest, I was not really confident about this blog because I thought that it might come off as innacurate and short, although it did not turn out to be short but I hope that it turned out good, I had been planning to post this for a long time although I initially thought of using Day6 members but, I found that N flying members are more suitable for the thread. I also want to give some credits to instagram page @dowoons_mom who had helped me to know more about the N flying members.

[frostsinth]

The Bard’s Bounty - Pt. 8

Hey friends. Graphic warnings here. Hinting at past forced encounters and abuse, and potential rape. You have been warned, please read with caution. This story took a darker turn than I intended.

Apologies for the slow follow-up. Work life got busy and I didn’t have time to finish this part. I’ve already almost finished the next two, so I should be able to update more regularly until the end (which will be Part 10).

Parts 1|2|3|4|5|6|7

Iara’s off to face the Bounty Hunter’s Guild and rescue Balam. But will she get there in time to save him?

It was midday by the time I reached the Guild headquarters, and I pulled my stolen mount up short. The large mansion nestled in the center of the thriving port town seemed very still compared to the bustling streets around it. I gritted my teeth, ducking my head lower into the cowl of my borrowed cloak. There was a time when the sight of the mansion filled me with entirely different emotions. Now I wasn’t sure what to feel.

I didn’t have much time, I knew. I had already wasted so much just getting here. Waking up alone in the forest, drenched in blood. My own blood, at least. There was no sign of a struggle. No sign that they had decided to take Balam’s head after all. But I was still filled with a cold dread. Who knew what had happened in the hours I was knocked out. What if I was already too late?

I prayed that the dumb orc had managed to babble his way into a stay of execution. Just for a little while longer at least. Long enough for me to do what needed to be done.

I left the stolen horse in the stables beside the old blacksmith, patting his big flank gently. He was a big, quiet gelding with a calm temperament. And just one more notch on the long stick of my questionable career. I didn’t even pay it much thought. In fact, I added another as I snuck into the forge and grabbed the nearest pair of serviceable weapons. A rough set of freshly sharpened daggers.

I knew Goda would be in the stables adjacent to the mansion. It wouldn’t be hard to get her out; I doubt anyone in the Guild thought I would be stupid enough to come back for what they thought was just another horse. And no outsider would be brazen enough to steal from the Guild. No, she wouldn’t be guarded or tethered. Likely they had to drag her there by force and were more than eager to pen her for a while. I looked off towards the stables briefly, my heart racing. First though, I had to find Warrick.

On light feet, I made my way swiftly from shadow to shadow. The sun was high overhead, and didn’t leave much room for hiding. But I knew this place like the back of my hand. I knew how to avoid being seen. And a hot, numbing rage spurned me on.

Next, I moved with a small troupe of merchants, who’s carts drifted close to the outer walls of the compound. I stood close to one, unnoticed, until we passed beneath the hickory tree whose long branches hung down over the wall. Quick as a flash, I sprinted out, jumped, and caught the top of the wall with the balls of my fingertips. With a grunt, I pulled myself up and over. All before the cart had passed more than three feet away. Its rattling wares and distracting colors drew any errant eye and covered my ascent.

Ducking behind the tree’s slim trunk, I reached one hand up to my newly dressed side. It stung, but whatever magic Warrick had used on me seemed to have had a strange side effect on it. The wound’s edges were burned through, and it no longer openly bled whenever I twisted or moved. Still hurt like the dickens, but I could work with that.

I heard footsteps and dropped low, watching some green recruits walking past, chattering quietly between themselves. I used the sound of their soft laughter muffled beneath their palms to cover my quick dash over to the side of the mansion itself. Overhead, a window, just a few feet above me. I glanced around, then jumped, catching my foot on the corner of the building and launching myself up.

I managed to hook my forearm, and pulled myself in. My ears rang and I twitched with each little sound. There was a grim, ironic pang in the pit of my stomach as I recognized that the only reason I had gotten as far as I had was because of Warrick’s training. I was the best Bounty Hunter in the damn place, and he made sure of that. My mouth went dry at the thought of the Guildmaster, but I shook off the prickling of my skin and crept down the hall.

Up the stairs, past the bunk rooms. It sounded like the majority of the Guild was downstairs in the basement taproom; at least those who were home. Luckily enough for my purposes, the Hunters rarely stayed at the Guildhouse for long. Just long enough to tally their scores and pick up the next bounty assignment.

The sharp creak of a floorboard had me scrambling backwards haphazardly, shouldering open the nearest door and ducking in. I spun, pressing my eye to the crack just in time to watch Varius stomp down the hallway. The half-elf looked mad; his brow was furrowed and he was muttering to himself under his breath. So caught up in himself, he didn’t seem to sense my eyes watching him.

For a moment, I felt my hand go to my belt. I thumbed the dagger, longing to shove it between the bastard’s shoulder blades. There was a long history between us, and its memory burned me. But I quelled my anger, and let him pass. Next time, I promised myself.

Glancing over to be certain my cover was not blown, I snuck back out into the hall. Down the way that Varius had come. Towards the Guildmaster’s private office.

I didn’t hesitate, aside from a quick glance over my shoulder to be certain we were still alone. Despite the danger. Despite everything inside me screaming for fear of the memory of this place. I pushed open the door, then quickly and quietly closed it behind me.

Warrick’s back was to me, one gloved hand tucked in the small of his spine, the other holding up some papers. There was a desk between myself and him, but not much else. And I felt the hot rage growing in me again. Burning away at the hollow numbness that had filled me just a moment before. How many times had I been in this room? Standing right where I stood now?

None of them were happy memories.

He didn’t flinch at the sound of the door opening, simply sighing and shaking his head.

“Varius, the matter is settled,” He intoned, sounding bored, “Go sulk in the taproom-” I could see a smirk dancing in the corner of his lips- “Perhaps I’ll come find you later-”

He stopped short as the deadbolt thumped into place. Slowly, without turning, he lowered his papers, staring directly ahead out the window before him. I didn’t wait for him to move first; my daggers already drawn, creeping forward on the balls of my feet. Perhaps if I could just manage to catch him off guard. Even the slightest amount. Perhaps then this might not be the suicide mission I knew it was, born of absolute desperation. I watched the hand behind his back slowly clench.

“Honestly, Iara,” He said coldly, finally turning his head slightly to consider me out of the corner of his eye, “I thought you above such foolishness.”

“Where is he?” I hissed, moving ever closer.

A deep sigh was my response, and the Guildmaster shook his head, turning to face me fully. I knew better than to let my guard down. Warrick was at least ten years my senior, and along with being an accomplished mage, he had trained almost all of the Guild members himself. He was not going to be beaten easily. But in that moment, I didn’t care. A wild mirage of emotions swirled around in my chest.

“How disappointing,” He tsked, shaking his head, “You showed such… vigor in your upbringing.”

“Where. Is. He?” I pressed, restlessly spinning the dagger in my hand.

A wicked pointed incisor showed as the Guildmaster’s lip curled back. “You would throw everything you’ve worked for here… for a man? An orc of all things? How unlike you.” 

“Shut up and answer me,” I growled back, clenching my teeth, “Where is he?”

Warrick offered a short, quick laugh, wrinkling his nose as he looked down it at me, now barely an arm’s length away.

“Well, which is it, my dear?” He purred, dark eyes narrowing, “‘Shut up’ or ‘answer me’? I can hardly do both now, can I?”

Hot white rage filled me to the brim, and I launched forward with my right dagger leading. Fast as a snake, his gloved hand shot out, catching my wrist. He twisted, pulling me in close and knocking away my other strike as easily as one might an irksome fly. Sending the dagger spinning across the surface of the desk. Then he yanked my arm back, pulling it behind me and up. I gasped in pain, and he used his knee to deftly spin me, and slam me face first into the desktop. Books and papers scattered everywhere from the force, and I mouthed at the air uselessly for a moment.

I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck as he leaned over me, pressing me painfully into the surface with his weight.

“Tell me, my sweet,” He breathed in my ear, and it sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine, “What made you turn away from me?” I struggled, but he easily subdued my vain attempt to dislodge him. “... Is his cock bigger? Is that what it was?” His lips dragged against my skin as he spoke. “Did he fuck you absolutely senseless?”

I felt him pressing his hips against my ass, and wriggled again, fighting to free one of my trapped hands. To get some semblance of a good angle to attack him again. I found I forgot everything I had ever learned in that moment. He was stronger than me. Older. More experienced. And I couldn’t find any purchase in my mind to begin to think how to fight him. I panted, my heart pounding in my ears. I swore I could hear him smirk, and I rolled my eyes back to look at him as best I could from where my face was still smashed into the desk.

“I always knew you liked it rough… perhaps I just need to step up my game, hmm?”

He kneed my legs apart, and I felt him adjusting himself. At first, I panicked. I felt numb all over. The same weak helplessness. The same shame and terror that had threatened to choke the life out of me every time the bastard had touched me. I felt myself pulling back. Recoiling into myself. Trying desperately to disconnect before it was too late.

“I warned you not to come back. Warned you what would happen…. One more lesson for you then, yes? But don’t worry, my sweet little Iara,” He purred into my ear. He released one of my limp hands, confident I wouldn’t fight back, and moved to slide his hand up the back of my thigh. “Your precious bard is probably already dead. Or wishes he was.”

His words brought up a memory. Just a quick flash of a sweet, lopsided grin. And a soft hum, like the buzzing of honeybees.

I wasn’t fully conscious of the movement. All I felt was cold steel in my palm, and the sudden tightening of my muscles. The painful twist of my arm and the resistance it met as I stabbed the dagger with every last ounce of my strength.

I heard a gargled sound, like water bubbling from a pipe. The Guildmaster’s weight lifted, and I quickly spun. Shoving hard with all my might. Forcing him backward until his shoulders hit the wall and his head snapped back against it from the force of his impact.

Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, which hung open in dumbfounded confusion. His dark eyes were wide, and he looked between my rage filled face and the dagger protruding from between his fourth and fifth ribs. I took hold of the handle, meeting his gaze as I slowly twisted it deeper. His mouth opened wider, and that same strangled sound came from his throat.

“I’ll ask you one more time;” I hissed, my words squeezed through the narrow slit that was my throat, constricted with anger, “Where. Is. He.”

He opened and closed his mouth, like a suffocating fish. Then sputtered, gasping in one labored breath.

“The Sheriff… Collected-” another gasp- “Ridgepeak Manor-”

I smiled wickedly. “Thank you, Guildmaster,” I pushed the dagger in a little deeper, “You’ve been so helpful.”

I turned, grabbing my other dagger from where it had been left on the desk. His hands flailed at me weakly, but as his blood pooled at his feet, I knew there was nothing he could do. For a moment, I felt wonderful. Powerful beyond all measure. Grateful and free. I turned back to him, considering leaving him to drown in his own blood. The bastard didn’t deserve a quick death, I reasoned.

Then he bared his teeth at me, stained scarlet. His smile was twisted, perverse. And even as he sunk to his knees, his grin sent shivers down my spine.

“I knew you…. were just like me…” He gasped, his voice shaking and thin. His eyes rolled up to look at me. “You…are my most… prized possession… my greatest… legacy...”

I stared at him, grinning like a fool with his own life slipping between his fingers. I knew exactly what he would have done in this moment, had the roles been reversed. Exactly what I had been about to do... I clenched my jaw, squeezing my eyes shut, and shook my head. Making up my mind.

Then I crouched down, drawing the dagger with a quick yank from his side. He gasped, but then I saw the flood of confusion as his blood gushed out faster. As his pain ebbed away. I steeled my nerve and drew in close, bracing his face with one blood soaked hand.

“You don’t own me.” I breathed, then slowly slipped the dagger into the base of his skull.

He shivered once, a sensation that rippled through his entire body. Then the light in his eyes went out, and his body slumped to the floor.

I swallowed hard, walking over to the open window and cleaning the blades on the curtain. There was a knock at the office door, and a muffled voice. I glanced over my shoulder as the knocking became louder and more insistent.

I leapt over the window sill and dropped the few feet to the lip of the roof below. I moved quickly now. It didn’t matter if I was seen. It mattered only that I got out.

I covered the entire length of the mansion in a few minutes, sprinting as fast as I could. I whistled sharply as I approached the stables, and heard the responding whinny from within. Leaping over a very confused street urchin passing by, I tucked into a roll. The sound of smashing wood was quickly overridden by the pounding of hooves against dirt.

As Goda swept out of the stables with a squeal of delight, I straightened and reached out an arm to hook it around her thick neck. Swinging up onto her back and settling myself behind her whithers.

“Come on, girl,” I murmured as she cantered down the street, vendors diving out of the way, “Let’s go get Balam.”

....

UPDATED: Part Nine HERE

[halseyhazzard]

Scrolling Utopia: Internet Interaction Design and the Posthistorical Subject

Halsey Hazzard, fall 2018

for a class on German media theory

Writing just before the internet threatened to take over the world, philosopher and communicologist Vilem Flusser has often been called a prophet of the digital age, based on his concern with then-nascent internet technology and the applicability of his theories to the so-called digital age. Certainly he did dream of a utopian society in which communications technology would engender a more egalitarian global society, but his optimism was far from idealistic. Rather, Flusser’s work contains a demand that we understand the way technology shapes human consciousness so that we might develop and use it responsibly. A sense of urgency underlies Flusser’s calls for responsibility, and this call has grown only more crucial as the internet has grown more pervasive and social networks have ascended to global near-hegemony.

In many of his essays, Flusser argued that historical consciousness, engendered by linear writing, was giving way to a new, posthistorical consciousness as a result of changing technology. Now, nearly thirty years after his death, it would appear the new consciousness Flusser both dreamed and warned of has arrived, ushered in by the digital technology we call, not insignificantly, “social media.” In this paper I hope to deploy Flusser’s theory of humanization to understand one of social media’s most quietly pervasive design elements—infinite scrolling—and its relationship to the so-called posthistorical consciousness. Infinite scroll, I argue, is a key example of how technology shapes human consciousness and how its effects demand that we pay attention and take responsibility for the ways we are constructing ourselves as human subjects.

Throughout his work, Flusser articulates a definition of “human” that depends heavily on technology, and communication technology in particular. He is concerned with an apparent shift that took place with the appearance of apparatuses, which he defines in Toward a Philosophy of Photography as something that mimics a human capability and which merges with a human operator. The human is profoundly affected by its interaction with the apparatus, and because technology is constantly changing (being changed by humans), what is “human” is constantly in flux. What is constant, however, is communication. Humans distinguish ourselves from the “non-human” by our need to store and use “information,” defined as negative entropy. Flusser makes frequent reference to the second law of thermodynamics, arguing that humanization is thus the process of fighting against inevitable entropy through the creation of information technologies. He puts it succinctly in a 2003 interview with Patrik Tschudin: “a person becomes human to the extent to which he figures out which of one’s functions can be mechanized and then delegates those to machines. What remains, that which cannot be mechanized (for the moment, anyway), is that which becomes human” (“The Lens is to Blame”, 6). Taken together, these statements define humanity as a process of endless becoming, driven by the human drive to communicate and the responsibility to one another (and, as a result, agency) communication entails.

If humanization is a process of endless becoming, one should probably wonder what the human is becoming now. In “Humanizations,” Flusser illustrates the status of the human with reference to the “little brain man,” a model for how the brain perceives the body borrowed from neurology. In the linear era, the little brain man is a “tongue-thumb man,” but Flusser hypothesizes that in the telomatic future, “The fingertips, which will touch the keyboard, will doubtless be the most important organs, and it will become apparent that the purpose of the Brain Man’s entire body will be to support the fingertips” (“Humanizations” 190). While he is certainly right that technology has shifted the focus from the tongue, he was perhaps too quick to predict the shrinking of the thumbs.

In recent years, so-called “social media” has saturated Western culture, with Instagram in particular reaching one billion users worldwide (Carman). Much of this growth has occurred concurrently with the rise of smartphones, expected to be in 2.5 billion hands by 2019. While much attention has been given to the content on such platforms, this impending ubiquity demands an analysis of how the material apparati of apps like Instagram are shaping what it currently means to be human. In 2013, at the dawn of Vine, writer Chris Baraniuk situated the then-new (now defunct) video-sharing service in a long history of visual loops. Like the gif before it, the Vine video takes a moment—no more than six seconds long—and repeats it ad infinitum. Hypnotic and without a true beginning or end, digital loops are “uncanny” and “disturbing,” for, according to Baraniuk, ‘the complete absence of teleology and catharsis within the loop destroyers our sense of self, our idea of progress, our intention to accomplish anything.” (Baraniuk). The logic of the loop, he claims, is built into the very languages that make up the digital world. A similar “narrative dissonance” can be found in in “infinite scrolling,” a design element that, alongside the rise of digital visual loops, has quietly achieved near ubiquity as a feature of websites, in particular those considered to be “social media.” Infinite scrolling might at first appear to be the anti-loop. Where gifs only have one frozen moment to offer up for eternity, the infinite scroll seems to promise endless variety. Yet it shares with the visual loop a lack of teleology thanks to its lack of a clear beginning, middle, and end.

When one loads a page on a website that employs infinite scrolling, one is dropped into a seemingly-endless stream of modular pieces of content, known frequently as posts. These can be images, short texts, video clips, or a combination thereof. Scrolling is particularly popular in app design for smartphones which, with their small, vertical screens, replace the horizontal thrust of traditional text with a relentless vertical pull. The promise of new content just beyond the bottom of the screen draws the eyes down and the thumb up. Pagination, a holdover from the pre-internet days of bound paper books, presupposes a hierarchy of information, an order that requires a linear progression. Page one must come before page two, page four follows page three, and so on. Entries on sites like the search engine Google that still use this skeuomorphic setup, when not bound to a linear progression, are often algorithmically sorted by relevance. Posts on infinite scrolling sites, however, are typically arranged chronologically, which gives them all the same importance. Yet the constant updates endemic to social media mean the chronology of the infinite scroll is essentially an eternal present. It is impractical, if not impossible, to reach the end of the scroll, yet if even one were successful, one would have to find one’s way to the ever-extending beginning, and start the process all over again. The only way to read everything is in real-time. The infinite scroll thus begs to be constantly checked, foreclosing any possibility of action.

According to Baraniuk, this process--or, rather, lack of process--threatens our sense of self. He may be right, if what we mean by the self is the form of human consciousness that has for so long been constructed in and by linear writing: “historical consciousness”. In “The Future of Writing,” Flusser writes

“Writing is an important gesture, because it both articulates and produces that state of mind which is called “historical consciousness.” History began with the invention of writing, not for the banal reason often advanced that written texts permit us to reconstruct the past, but for the more pertinent reason that the world is not perceived as a process, “historically,” unless one signifies it by successive symbols, by writing” (Future 63)

For Flusser, writing is associated with logic and reason, with the sort of scientific thought that thinks of things in terms of cause and effect. History takes a narrative form, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. The consciousness created by this kind of thinking is historical. The posthistorical consciousness, on the other hand, begins with the photograph. In contrast to the linear, logical thinking of alphabetic writing, images encourage formal thinking, and make it impossible to understand the world as “becoming.” Linear reading “has the sense of going somewhere, whereas, while reading pictures, we need to go nowhere” (Line 23). Images contain denser messages than linear writing, and demand to be thought of structurally rather than linearly. Images preceded writing, yet in their current iteration as photographs serve to explain written text, hence their post-historicity. This begs the question: if “[n]arratives make history” (On the End of History 143), does the narrative-less infinite scroll and its attendant digital consciousness make posthistory?

The infinite scroll, lacking finitude, has no historical sense of causality. In the scroll, things simply occur. The infinite scroll, then, with its lack of teleology, would seem to be a departure from linear, historical thought. Yet Flusser explains in “The Future of Writing” that in a world dominated by lines, “everything...follows from something, time flows irreversibly from the past toward the future, each instant is lost forever, and there is no repetition” (64). This sounds awfully like the endless streams of content on social media, signalling that the shift between history and post-history is not so cut-and-dried. In fact, the infinite scroll could perhaps best be compared to films, which, according to Flusser, “incorporate the temporality of the written line into the picture, by lifting the linear historical time of written lines onto the level of the surface” (Line 26). We still fail to grasp the posthistorical surface quality of films and TV programs, reading them as we would written lines. But Flusser suggests that “for those who think in films, it will mean the possibility of acting upon history from without” (25). This will become key, particularly if we understand the infinite scroll as a technology that allows us to step outside the procession of history.

Shortly after making this claim, Flusser calls attention to the distinction between immediate experience and the necessarily mediatized fictions of images and concepts, and further, the distinction between conceptual fiction (“line thought”) and imaginal fiction (“surface thought”). The relationship between these two forms of thought is at stake for our understanding of how media shape thought and thus impact humanization. Surface fictions, he claims, are not only advancing due to technological developments, but becoming more and more indistinguishable from reality, which linear fictions are becoming more and more abstract. Ultimately Flusser claims that “[t]he synthesis of linear and surface media may result in a new civilization” (31). The infinite scroll, by extending surfaces indefinitely so that lines may be followed forever, might perhaps be the very technological development that ushers in this new civilization.

This new civilization could ostensibly take two forms. The first, in which imaginal thinking fails to incorporate conceptual thinking, would lead to “the totalitarianism of the mass media” (34). If imaginal thinking does succeed, however, leading “to new types of communication in which man consciously assumes the structural position,” “a new sense of reality would articulate itself, within the existential climate of a new religiosity” (34). Flusser concedes that neither outcome is inevitable, and that the shape of the posthistorical future depends on choices made in the present. The infinite scroll could be a harbinger of either outcome. It is easy to see how the mass distraction and loss of teleology engendered by the technique could lead to totalitarianism.

On the other hand, the destruction of hierarchies it seems to encourage gestures toward a much more egalitarian future. Flusser, who often wrote urgently of the need for dialogue, might see this as a welcome step toward a classless, networked society.

The society Flusser has in mind is one where “dialogue and discourse balance each other out. If, as we see today, a discursive form dominates, which prevents dialogues from taking place, then society is dangerously close to decomposing into an amorphous crowd” (Stroehl, xvii). Media that encourages discourse imparts information from the top down, such as mass broadcast media like television or radio, whereas media like telephones encourage “[d]ialogue as a noncoercive relationship of mutual respect” (xviii). According to Andreas Stroehl, Flusser “believes that dialogue is the purpose of existence. The sense of responsibility inherent in the dialogic relationship between speaker and addressee offers the speaker an opportunity to give his or her own life meaning in the face of entropy and death” (xviii). To be human is to act on this responsibility to the other by communicating, and the technologies humans design to communicate impact the ways in which we become human.

Digital interfaces are no exception. Social media, by virtue of its “social” nature, can perhaps be seen as a step toward this telomatic networked society of mutual responsibility. Still, infinite scrolling is a key example of how it is not free from being determined by the political and economic contexts in which it was developed, contexts which impact the very interaction design of the internet. According to Chadwick Smith, for Flusser, “since objects impact the lives of others...and are a projection of some designer’s decisions, they are thus situated in a relational field, encompassing not just aesthetic and political dimensions but, given their infinitely intimate scale, ethical ones as well” (“The Butterfly and the Potato” 48). The infinite scroll, though a feature more than an object, is a prime example of this dynamic. In 2006, software engineer Aza Raskin developed infinite scroll as a way to maximize the time users spend on websites, eliminating the natural stopping points at the end of pages that inspired users to navigate away. This habit-forming tendency was conceived in the service of websites and advertisers that depend on keeping eyes on screens, indicating a motivation behind the design choice other than intersubjective goodwill. Even Raskin is critical of the scroll’s anti-human tendencies: “It's as if they're taking behavioral cocaine and just sprinkling it all over your interface. And that's the thing that keeps you like coming back and back and back” (Hamilton). When we situate the scroll in the context of the rise of technocratic totalitarianism with which Flusser was concerned, it becomes part of the tradition whereby “The Enlightenment has overshot its mark,” causing extreme rationalism to turn irrational, thus barbaric.

If that is the case, what can we do to rescue humanity from this path? Flusser may give us, if not a plan, then at least a set of guiding principles. If being human is about communicating with each other to stave off impending entropy, and if humans have the agency to create technology to do so, then it is imperative that we take seriously our responsibility to each other in our efforts to design the future, especially considering the anti-human tendencies in what we’ve already built. As Smith writes, “Flusser’s concept of design is not about building a better world, but rather of eradicating from it everything that makes it worse” (“The Butterfly and the Potato” 53). That may not necessarily mean doing away with infinite scrolling, but taking seriously the dialogic potential within it when considering the effects it will have and is already having on collective human consciousness.

Luckily, if Flusser is to be believed, the posthistorical consciousness is giving humanity the means to step out of the stream of progress and look at structures, to critically assess our own history in order to fully take advantage of the opportunities the present presents. As long as technology like infinite scrolling threatens to pull us further into our future selves, we owe it to each other to know who those selves are, and who we will become.

Works Cited

Baraniuk, Chris. “‘The Wheel of the Devil’: On Vine, Gifs and the Power of the Loop.” The Machine Starts, www.themachinestarts.com/read/2013-01-the-wheel-of-the-devil-vine-gifs-idea-of-loop.

Carman, Ashley. “Instagram Now Has 1 Billion Users Worldwide.” The Verge, The Verge, 20 June 2018, www.theverge.com/2018/6/20/17484420/instagram-users-one-billion-count.

Flusser Vilém, and Ströhl Andreas. Vilém Flusser - Writings. University of Minnesota Press, 2005.

Hamilton, Isobel Asher. “Silicon Valley Insiders Say Facebook, Snapchat, and Twitter Are Using 'Behavioral Cocaine' to Turn People into Addicts.” Business Insider, Business Insider, 4 July 2018.

“Number of Smartphone Users Worldwide 2014-2020.” Statista, www.statista.com/statistics/330695/number-of-smartphone-users-worldwide/.

Smith, Chadwick T. ““The Butterfly and the Potato: Vilém Flusser and Design”. artUS. issue 26, 2009-1, 46-53.

Smith, Chadwick T. “The Lens is to Blame”: Three Remarks on Black Boxes, Digital Humanities, and The Necessities of Vilém Flusser’s “New Humanism” Flusser Studies, vol. 18, http://www.flusserstudies.net/sites/www.flusserstudies.net/files/media/attachments/smith-the-lens-is-to-blame.pdf . Accessed 18 December 2018

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC  ≽ III.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.2k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The remainder of my night was spent in a dirty, cheap motel across town. I couldn’t really afford anything better. I even dared to return to my father’s home to pick up some of my old clothes. There wasn’t much leftover either.

I was both, mentally and materially exhausted. Despite this, sleep hadn't seemed like a reasonable option for me. Instead, I laid on the stiff mattress and dreaded the morning light. 

Morning came all the same, through the broken blinds of the room. 

The moments between having my eyes closed, and opening them, were lost time. I had no sense of how long I had been laying there. Hours must have gone by.

That was until my phone rang at 10 am exactly. My limbs felt heavy at the first movement toward the phone. It was the phone call that I was waiting for. The one that would determine my next move. 

"Agent (Y/L/N), did you rest well?" 

I placed my cell on speakerphone and tossed it on the crummy bed. 

"As good as could be expected," I answered, swinging my legs over the bed edge. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," He didn't have to be so polite, I thought. I tested the strength of my legs and stood on them. "Do you need me to fill you in on the Camilo Cartel?" 

"I'm familiar, I helped the administration track their movements into California," I explained my prior knowledge while walking toward the bag I packed.  I scavenged through the outdated clothing I wore in my youth. "I had no idea his men moved so far North already."

"Miguel Camilo is an ambitious man." I settled on an old t-shirt. "He's been flooding his heroin and cocaine into almost all of the California prisons."  

"Except for Pelican Bay which is still controlled by the PB." The Pure Brotherhood was the largest gang of Neo-Nazis on the West coast. They controlled the drug trade until the Camilo Cartel began to expand out of Northern Mexico. "Three of them came to shoot up my father's house. They killed a boy and injured four other people." 

"That was just a warning. They aren't happy that Bangtan is dealing guns to both them and the cartel." 

My father started running guns for his Russian connections early on in the club's life. It was just supposed to be a short favor but the money spoke too loudly. At the time, the PB was heavily trafficking drugs through Blackburn from Pelican Bay. However, they made an agreement, that why would stop dealing in Blackburn, in exchange for Bangtan selling them guns.

"I'm sure you are aware, that since the settlement in 2018, Pelican Bay has become the service network for the drug distribution from California to its surrounding states." 

That was a sick understatement.

"The Pacific Northwest is drowning in methamphetamine because of the PB's connection at Pelican Bay," I responded, rather sorely. It was a combination of anger, knowing that the club had gotten themselves directly involved. Also, a rage drove from personal experience. 

I tossed the clothes I had collected on the bed, alongside my phone. Agent Romero was silent for a time, following the tone of my tongue. 

"I was informed you took part in the one-year investigation that saw the raid of 10 drug dens in Seattle last year." His voice became finer. It was almost as if he was being cautious with his information. "You made the connection between the dealers and the PB." 

 I took a seat on the foot of the bed and remained soundless. I didn't want to take the credit for that.

"Everyone already suspected it led back to them..." I refused to.

"But you knew that the firearms that were confiscated, during the raid, had come from Bangtan." 

I didn't expect him to understand why I wasn't proud of this. How could I be? When I had to see the consequences of the club's activities outside of Blackburn. The DEA confiscated 37 pounds of meth and 27 pounds of heroin that day. We really did only care for our own. The rest of the world could burn.  

"Agent (Y/L/N)?" He called. 

I hummed as a reply. 

"You are our best hope. I need to know that you can go through with this," He said sternly. But I understood, there could be no room for hesitation in an operation like this. "Not only because of your personal involvement with the club but because of your history of drug addiction."  

My life had taken many unexpected turns after I moved to Seattle. I fought against everything I knew and had an extreme appetite for destruction. If you had the money, then Seattle had your disease. Slipping into darkness had never been so easy.  

"I've been clean for five years, agent," I reminded him. 

I had a regularly scheduled drug test every 90 days through a hair sample. It was a rare exception to the DEA, but my personal experience was beneficial to them. "I also haven't been in contact with the club in over seven years." 

I stood back on my feet, taking a hold of the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. 

"I understand. For now, I need you to stay close to the club." I took the phone in one hand and my clothes in the other. "I'll be flying in from Virginia tomorrow, we will discuss further details, in person."

"Yes, sir."

He hung up the phone after that. I was left to unwind, once again.

This time I stepped toward the bathroom, leaving the stuff in my hands on the countersink. The bathroom was, at the very least, clean compared to the rest of the room. 

I turned on the water to the shower and gave it time to heat up. I continued to undress myself, anticipating the sweet relief of the hot water. With the remainder of my clothing scattered on the floor, I heard my phone vibrate behind me. 

I imagined that it was agent Romero. However, when I looked at the screen I found the message coming from an unsaved number. The same unsaved number that Namjoon called me from two days ago. 

I didn't expect to be starting work this soon. 

-

The second I turned off the engine on my bike, Namjoon was already waiting for me at the doorway of his home. I didn't see any other bikes in the driveway, except for Jaeeun's car. 

I was honestly hoping that she wouldn't be home. 

"You're late." Was the first thing out of his mouth.

"I came from across town- there was traffic," I explained, even though it couldn't have been more than ten minutes past three. 

He moved aside and let me step first into his house. The front door opened to his living room. There I was met with an unfortunate appearance by Jaeeun. There was only an everlasting smirk or frown on this woman's face. When it came to me, a frown was her default. 

"You said this was important?" I turned around to see Namjoon closing the door. 

"Yeah," Namjoon quietly remained, his fingers brushed their way through his hair. There was a stillness in the room that no one seemed to want to face. 

All I could do was stand there and watch as he calmly stepped further into the room. Before I could ask him to elaborate, there was another set of footsteps that came in from the hallway. 

"Ms.(Y/n)," 

I came face to face with my father's attorney. He received me with a friendly smile, extending his hand out to me in the process. 

"Richard," I was startled by his visit. 

"I'm sorry to meet again under these circumstances." His presence was eerily similar to when my mother passed away. Then his appearance began to make sense. 

"My father's will?" 

Richard gently nodded his head, the look of sympathy easily displayed on his features. He slowly gestured both Namjoon and me to join Jaeeun on the couch. 

Namjoon offered himself the seat between his mother and I. While Richard took the single armchair facing our direction. A round coffee table stood between us. Richard drew a leather briefcase from the floor and placed it on the glass surface. 

There was a feeling of dread emitting from my chest, making it feel heavy and stiff. My palms ran over the fabric of my jeans at the sound of the briefcase latches opened. 

He slipped out a single piece of paper, the delicate material folded like a letter. Richard cleared his throat, 

"The purpose of our meeting here today is the reading of the final testament of the deceased. Including, the distributions of assets and beneficiary claims." He took a moment to look at each of us. "With all of your permission, I will begin," 

We all gave our approval for him to begin. 

I didn't know what to expect. 

I, resident of the state of California, county of Blackburn, and being sound of mind and memory; do hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my last will and testament. 

At the time of executing this will, I have widowed and have remarried to Jaeeun Kim. Also at the time of this will, I recognize only two legitimate children. 

(Y/F/N). My biological daughter from my first marriage, now deceased. 

Namjoon Kim. My legal son from my current marriage to Jaeeun Kim. 

For my wife, I leave you with the remaining balance of our joint bank account, as well, as our matrimonial home. All titles and deeds will be changed under your name as the sole owner of the property. 

For my son, after being a long time employee and business partner, I leave you as the owner of The House Of Cards. 

Finally, for my daughter, I leave you with the remaining balance of my separate savings account, as well, as my 2003 Harley-Davidson Dyna Super Glide Sport and my 1990 Harley-Davidson Fatboy. 

When I turned 18, there was nothing more that I wanted than that old Fatboy. I never thought that finally getting it would feel so meaningless. 

-

I didn't plan to be out for long after being at Namjoon's house. We didn't say much to each other after Richard had left, I even left the house without any insults from Jaeeun. However, before leaving, Namjoon asked me to meet him at the bar to take a look at my father's bikes. 

When I arrived in the parking lot of the bar, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were in mid-conversation around their bikes. I parked my Harley right beside Jimin's. 

"Hey," I called out to them. My fingers clicked off the straps of my helmet and let it hang around the handlebar. 

When I stepped off my bike, I was instantly greeted by Jimin, who unexpectedly pulled me into a hug. I was somewhat taken back, his arm was hooked tightly around my waist. Of course, I returned the embrace, but at the same time, made awkward eye contact with Taehyung. 

"What's going on?" I asked a bit flustered as Jimin began to pull away. 

"Namjoon called us in," Jungkook replied. There was a smirk in his words as if he knew something that I didn't. I glanced at Taehyung, who remained silent by his side. I never did understand Jungkook's sense of humor. I brushed it off nevertheless. 

"He told us to bring your old man's Harley," Jimin also stated. He stepped with me, as I came closer into the semicircle that they were gathered in. I turned my head and looked at him rather confused.

"Bring it from where? The shop?" I questioned. 

I watched Jimin lean against his bike. "I thought it would be at the pound,"

He pushed strands of his hair away from his forehead, taking a moment to look away from me and waited to speak. I could see the gears begin to turn in his head and he glanced at the other boys for guidance. 

No one said anything.

"His Dyna got roughed up a few weeks ago- he left it in the shop for Taehyung and me to fix," He carefully explained. "He was riding his Fatboy the day of the accident." 

My life seemed to be a never-ending joke of irony. The sudden feeling of gloom overcame me prompting me to switch my gaze to the pavement. The bike that I had wanted was the bike that he had left me, but it was also the bike he had died in. I didn't say much after that. 

We stood in silence together for a few more minutes. That was until Taehyung's phone rang and notified us that Namjoon was waiting for us in the garage. 

When we got there, the garage was opened, to a truck parked in reverse. The white truck was branded with the name of Jimin's old man’s auto shop. The sound of the passenger door slamming was followed by Yoenjun coming around the corner. The young prospect moved quickly to unlatch the backdoors of the trailer. 

I advanced toward the truck, somewhat, anticipating to get a look at my father's Dyna. 

Jungkook came up to lend Yoenjun a hand with the ramp. The loud piece of metal came crashing down on the asphalt. If this had been anyone else's bike, Yoenjun would have just ridden it from the shop. But they were being extra cautious out of respect. 

Yoenjun came out of the dingy trailer with his hands guiding the bike down the ramp. The black beauty reflected shapes of the fluorescent lights. I stared at the beautiful wide front of the Dyna that reminded me why I got my Softail. 

"What do you think?" Yeonjun asked while he pushed down the kickstand, allowing the bike to stand on its own. 

"It looks brand new," I said, running my hand over the cold black metal of the fuel tank. "What was wrong with it?"

I asked, peering over to Jimin and Taehyung. 

"The headlight was broken," Jimin revealed. "There were also some scratches and dents." 

I nodded my head. I couldn't see any evidence of scratches, much less dents, that were difficult to get rid of without the right tools. 

"Prospect," Namjoon called from behind me. Yoenjun's eyes shot up in question. "Did you get the Fatboy out of the pound?" 

"Yes, pres," He said, quickly moving his feet back up the ramp. 

My eyes wandered into the darkness of the back of the trailer. I couldn’t see anything but I heard the hunk of metal rattling against the wall. I could see why Namjoon called Jungkook here, he ran up to help the prospect with the weight of the bike. 

I wasn't prepared for what I  was about to witness. 

My heart dropped into my stomach at the sight. The front of the bike was completely smashed inward. Jungkook was supporting it from the front, while Yoenjun steered it from the back. The entire fork and front wheel were crushed to the left. So far deep, that it even rammed into the gas tank. 

"Oh god..." My hands tried to mask the cry that fell from my mouth. The tears fell faster from my eyes than I could acknowledge them. 

"Hey," Jimin came to my aid. He rested his hand on my back and tried to comfort me.  

"I'm honestly not sure how salvageable it is, (Y/n)." Namjoon also walked toward me. I felt him linger over my shoulder, all I could do was merely glance his way as I tried to control my composure. "Maybe Jimin and Taehyung could try to-"

"No," I managed to take in a shaky breath, running my fingers along the wet stains of my cheeks. "I can fix it." 

I said mostly to myself. I had this irrepressible urge in the back of my mind to repair the bike myself. My father had taught me everything I needed to know about motorcycles. This was my chance to prove myself. 

"I might need some help though."

I was well aware that this would at least be a two-person job, the poor thing couldn't even stand on its own. There were also tools that I didn't have at my current disposal. 

"Whatever you need, love," Jimin whispered, his hand slowly slipping off my back. 

I suddenly realized how close Namjoon and Jimin were standing to me. I was feeling a little enclosed between the two of them. So I took a moment to excuse myself from the group. 

My back rested into the warm redbrick of the building. A deep breath of late summer air filled my lungs. I could almost view the sun starting to head toward the horizon. Its surrounding sky was beginning to orange with heat. 

I was standing just outside of the garage. Everyone had gone back into the bar to get a drink. Except, for Yoenjun who the boys had sent back to the auto shop.   

It seemed every day that I spent here was just another miserable recognition of my castaway. I hated feeling this way. I hated feeling like all I could do was complain about my father's abandonment. But goddamn it, he was all that I had. 

I thought I was all he had too. 

I imagined maybe one day he would tell me that he regretted sending me away. But, even in his will, he left me with nothing to stay here for; not his bar, not my mother's house, just some money, and a motorcycle to run away on. 

"You alright?" 

Jimin always seemed to catch me in the middle of a crying session. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, pushing myself off the wall. I forced him a smile and decided to prompt another subject. "I hope you're as good as a mechanic as you say you are."

He returned my smile, a more genuine one, and followed me with his eyes as I moved back into the garage. 

"Me?" He challenged, as we both stepped back toward the damaged bike, circling it. "I've been working in a shop for five years, what have you been doing?" 

I shot him a glare and chuckled at his tease.

"Who do you think has been taking care of my bike all this time? The mechanics in Seattle are a joke." He laughed at my words, not doubting them for a moment. 

I watched him watch me. His round lips held in an endearing smile as his eyes stared into me. I felt, at that moment, the same as he did. It was nice to spend moments like this, after all this time.  

"Besides," I said, feeling bashful in his gaze. "I've worked on this bike a million times." 

We had the Fatboy mounted on a hydraulic stand to get a better look below. Some of the pipes underneath were also severely damaged. But as long as the frame was still intact, I was pretty sure we could pull it off. 

"We should start by removing the fork and wheel," Jimin said, his eyes wandering over the details of the bike. "I think that way we'll have more room to make sure that the frame isn't too damaged."

I agreed. 

This model of Fatboy had a completely different frame than its modern counterpart. Trying to buy a new frame would easily cost over a grand.

"You know," Jimin sounded unsure. "this might cost more to fix than it's worth, (Y/n)."

I was well aware that it was reasonably true. However, my mind was already made up.

"I don't care what it costs."  

Because I had nothing else. Repairing this bike was going to be my only sense of peace for the next couple of weeks. 

-

Jimin stayed and helped me get started. Removing the front of this bike turned out to take a lot longer than expected. Jimin was a great help, and I had to admit, he probably knew a little more than I did. We ran into a lot of difficulties due to the metal that was bent together. We had to remove it without causing more damage to the parts that it was pushed into. Jimin was pleasant company, nonetheless. 

"I can't believe you dated her," I laughed under my breath, trying to keep my hands steady. 

"Okay, 'date' is a strong word," He attempted to justify himself but it was too late in my head. "I was intoxicated 80% of the time I was with her." 

The Allen head screwdriver I was using to loosen the lower triple fasteners almost slipped from my hands. Jimin's hand gripped around the bottom of the right fork, ready for it to come undone.

"That doesn't matter!" I was laughing so hard that my eyes watered. "The damage is done, Jimin. Who knows what kind of crotch-eating virus she gave you."

"Hey, I'll have you know that she got regular check-ups."

I hummed and rolled my eyes. I proceeded to also loosen the fastener on the top of the fork. I looked down at Jimin, to make sure his grip was still tight before freeing the fork. It should have slid right out the moment the screw came out but it didn't. 

"Damn," He said, carefully, removing his hand. 

"It must be jammed." I groaned, stepping back and wiping my forehead of any sweat. Jimin straightened himself out too.

"We can just find a way to remove it tomorrow," I sighed. I was honestly already worn out, and ready to call it quits for the night. However, determined, Jimin took a closer look at the fork. 

I watched as he, without a word, kneeled to dig around the toolbox. He was attentive as he picked out a flat-bladed screwdriver and came back to the bike. Jimin pushed the screwdriver in between the gap of the lower triple.

"Try to pull on it." He muttered, to me as he was using all of his strength to loosen the bent metal. 

I wrapped my hand around the metal rod and tried to tug on it. It made a rasping sound as it was starting to move. Then the entire weight came undone, it almost slipped out of my hand, but Jimin was fast too, also holding on to it. 

"Wow~ Jimin~" I was pleasantly surprised. 

"I know what I'm doing, love," Jimin smirked, proud of himself, he took the heavy rod from my hand. 

A relieved sigh left his nose as he placed the fork next to the previous one we removed. Along with other parts of the bike, like the wheel, that was close to unrecognizable. 

I reached into my pocket and checked the time. 

The effects of not sleeping the night before were starting to come through. It was barely 8 o'clock and I was exhausted. 

"I hope you're hungry because I just ordered some food," Jimin called to me. I looked up from my phone to see him showing me his food delivery app. 

"Oh, Jimin," I grumbled, putting my phone back in my pocket. "I was just about to head out."

He raised his brow at me in questionable doubt.

"You already ate?" He maintained his eyes on me while cleaning his greasy hand on the hem of his white t-shirt. 

"No," My eyes accidentally caught a glimpse of his abdomen, which was shockingly healthy underneath. "But I'm not very hungry." 

Worried that I was staring, I switched my attention to another part of the room. Jimin appeared to move close as a result. 

"Come on, it's Chinese food from that place you like." He insisted. 

I would have continued to refuse him, although my stomach appeared to respond to the contrary. It rumbled at the memory of the Chinese food, causing Jimin to laugh at the sound.

"I guess I can eat," I admitted in defeat. 

Jimin nodded his head and pushed the sleeves of his t-shirt over his shoulder.  It appeared that he was making advances toward the door but I called him. "Do you mind if we eat here though? I don't really want to be around other people." 

I wasn't sure if Namjoon had left with the others, or if he was just on the other side of the door. I was just enjoying Jimin's company without worrying about anything else. 

"Sure, I don't mind." I was comforted to hear him say so. 

Underneath a table, I found a couple of crate boxes. I carefully kicked two of them into the middle of the room. My aching legs relieved to finally sit down after three long hours. Jimin had his back turned to me as he washed his hands in the sink along the wall.

"Are you staying at Namjoon's house?" He suddenly asked, trying to make more conversation. 

"No, thank god." A short chuckle came from my lips. Taking notice of the dirt on my hands, I ran my palms over the fabric of my jeans. "I don't need Jaeeun’s cold glare watching me every minute." 

I could hear Jimin smirk.

"Yeah, she's intimidating as all hell." He stated. Turning back to face my direction, he shook the water off his hands, droplets falling to the cement floor. "You guys still aren't getting along?" 

"You know we've never had," I said a little bitterly. Recalling back to all the time I spent in high school complaining about her to him.

"I know, but I thought that was just like a teenage thing." Jimin eyed the counter to his right, where he had previously left his cut to remain. 

"Definitely not after the conversation we had yesterday." I jeered.  

"She threatened you?" Jimin sounded surprised as he was slipping the leather around his shoulders.

"Let's just say, it was a passionate discussion," I hummed, deciding it wasn’t even worth mentioning and that it was time for me to wash my hands as well.

The plastic sink in the back used to be white, now it was grayed and falling apart. I tried my best not to touch it as I turned on the faucet and rubbed some dish soap in my hand. 

"Is that why you left last night?"

 My hands slowed down at his question. I didn't like the idea of having to lie to Jimin. He was the only person who made me feel like I could depend on him. That meant a great deal to me however, I didn't really have any other alternative. 

"I didn't feel very welcomed once you left," I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. I continued scrubbing underneath my fingernails. "I also didn't feel like celebrating Namjoon's coronation."

It was a joke but I knew Jimin could hear the slight sourness in my tone. I tried to shake off as much of the water from my hands before turning back to Jimin. "Did Hoseok give you a rough night with his new VP patch?" 

I joked while reaching for a roll of paper towels under the sink. 

"No," He said calmly, "But Taehyung sure did." 

I wasn't quite sure if I had heard him correctly. Looking at his facial expression was meaningless as he remained unbothered.

"Taehyung?" I asked for clarification.

"That's right," He sang as I walked back in his direction, taking the same seat as before. "Namjoon wanted someone different than him, Taehyung is as different as you can get." 

I had never thought to compare the two. I doubt if I even knew enough about Taehyung to relate him to Namjoon. 

"Does it bother you?" I was curious.

"Taehyung being VP? Nah." Jimin answered. "I'm actually pretty relieved,"

Jimin stopped to lick his lip, thinking about what he was about to say. "There is no doubt in my mind that Namjoon will be a good leader. He's smart as hell, but sometimes- I think he can lose sight of things."

I was deeply intrigued by what Jimin thought. His opinion was unbiased, and he only spoke for what was best for the club. "Taehyung has never been afraid to call him out on it. Taehyung and your old man, that is."

The Vice President of a club was the middle ground between the President and the members of the charter. Any questions, comments or concerns from the other members are brought to the VP's attention. It was hard for me to imagine my father ever disagreeing with Namjoon. He never did so in my presence, anyway. I wondered when that all began to change. I wondered if it had anything to do with the drugs.

Jimin noticed that mentioning my father brought me down easily, he saw me lost in my own head, so he changed the subject. 

"You know," Jimin pushed himself off the box seat. "I know why Jaeeun doesn't like you." 

"Oh?" I smiled gently. This ought to be good. "Enlighten me, please."

Even though I could name a few reasons myself, Jimin always had an interesting perspective. 

He returned my smile and decided to let the anticipation linger in the air. I watched him slowly walk toward the refrigerator that sat in the corner of the room. He pulled the door opened and leaned in to retrieve two bottles of beer that rested at the very bottom shelf. He turned around to face me and shut the door with his foot. 

"You two are exactly the same,"

I looked at him unimpressed, with such a simple answer. Also, a little offended by his assumption.

"Hear me out," He requested while holding the bottles between his fingers, using his free hand to dig into his pocket. "Jaeeun is intimidated by your character. She's constantly trying to put you down because she knows you don't let things go- just like she doesn't. " 

"Who says I don't let things go?" Jimin laughed at my question.

"(Y/n), just yesterday you said you've waited seven years to come back home." 

Ouch. 

Jimin pulled a lighter from his jeans. He used the end of it as leverage to snap open one of the bottles. "You only threaten someone that you feel threatened by." 

Jimin offered me the beer, and I took it thankfully. His words sunk in.

"Well, you know what they say," I pushed my lips against the glass, taking a large gulp.

"What?" He asked while sitting back beside me.

"A beaten dog never forgets," I said earnestly.

Jimin stared at me for what seemed like an entire minute, but ultimately, he tipped his bottle toward me. 

"That, we don't." 

He said as I met him halfway. Our bottles clanged together before we took another drink. 

"There is actually something I've been wanting to ask you," He suddenly said after clearing his throat.

"What is it?" 

"Yesterday... You make it sound as if you've wanted to come back this entire time," I was dreading this question. "Why didn't you?"

How could I even begin to explain to him such a story? "I know you had problems with your family and maybe that's why you left, "

He sounded hurt. "But I thought we were close enough for you to have told me. It just seemed so unlike you." 

He knew me better than I gave him credit for.

"I would have told you." I wanted to make that clear to him first. "I didn't want to leave but my father sent me away."

"How come?"

I stared into his eyes and knew that he did not recognize the man I spoke of. But this was the reality. 

"Because," I sighed and felt unworthy of holding his gaze. "I couldn't let things go..." 

-

My entrance to the bar was met by a pleasant absence of people. It was well past 10 o'clock and yet the room was entirely empty. Not only that, but the entire place looked as if a tornado had spit it out. The chairs and tables were knocked down and spread all over the floor. The back doors of the club's conference room were broken in and barely hanging on. Though I couldn't even see down the hall, I could imagine it was a similar story.

 The only soul that remained stood tall behind the bar, wiping down the counters against the wall. 

"What the hell happened here?" Namjoon hadn't heard me come in. He looked over his shoulder and found me walking toward him. 

"Pigs had a day off," He said, setting down the damp rag and turning his body to speak with me. 

He sounded unimpressed, and so was I. Blackburn police were always trying to find dirt on the club. It wasn't the first time they had come in with their warrants; it wouldn't be the last time either. However, the only thing that they left with was their tails tucked between their legs. It's just the way things were. 

"Where is he?" I asked, knowing he knew who I meant. 

I took the leather stool right in front of him. Resting an elbow on the surface of the bar, I reached for an ashtray with my closest hand. 

"My mom's Cadillac broke down again," I hummed, barely surprised. 

I drew a pack of almost empty smoke from my back pocket. Bringing the carton to my mouth, I wrapped my lips around one of the cigarettes which was left exposed by the missing cover. 

"She needs to take that piece of shit to a mechanic," I muttered, fumbling with my jeans, trying to find a lighter. 

"He's going to take a look at it in the garage," He replied, reaching behind him and then placing a cheap lighter in front of me. 

"I mean a real mechanic," I said, taking the dark blue lighter in my hands and using the light to light my addiction. "Once the machine surpasses three wheels, he has no idea what he's doing."

"It's not that much of a difference," 

I scoffed at him.

"How would you know?" I urged, taking a sharp drag of my square, the end of it lighting up like Roudoff's nose. "You don't even know what's wrong with your bike half of the time."

"That's not true," He continued to gather glasses up and down the bar space. 

"My old man and I are the only ones who have ever touched your bike," I told him bitterly, hoping he would recall me having to repair his bike a few weeks ago after he had left the gas sitting in the tank for too long. 

Namjoon chose to ignore my comment. 

"Why don't you pour me a drink instead?" I said after not getting a word from him. "You're good at that." 

"You're 18," He replied as if that meant anything.

"And you're 19 working as a bartender but, here we are." 

Namjoon shot me an annoyed look, and I found it satisfying. A smirk grew on my lips as he placed his current glass in front of me. The impact of crystal glass against the wood seemed to ring on. His eyes never left mine as he reached under the bar for a bottle of Jack. 

"Pour it yourself." He spoke dangerously. My sadistic mind, only finding humor in his tough-guy act. 

"Well then," I grabbed the bottle by its neck and did the work myself. The brown liquor coming smoothly out of the metal pour spout, into the bottom of my glass. "Just because my old man lets you hang around the club, you're too good to pour me a drink now?" 

I said only casually. It was a snide comment to myself, but of course, in the dead of silence, Namjoon caught an ear. 

"What did you say?" 

Based on his expression, I was sure that he heard me clearly. I nonchalantly blew a puff of smoke in his direction, his hard stare threatening to curse me. "You've got a fucking mouth on you,"

He fiercely set everything in his hands down on the counters behind him. I watched him come around the bar and walk past me. I seized my glass in the opposite hand from where my cigarette rested between my digits. Turning in my seat to keep my eyes on him, I had a feeling he had more to get off his chest. 

"If anyone has to check their ego at the door, it's you, sweetheart." I took a sip of my drink as the bitter words left his lips. He began to pick up the chairs of the closest table to the bar. "Your biker princess entitlement is seriously getting under everyone's skin."

"Oh? Who is everyone, Namjoon?" I ridiculed him. Even though, in the tones of my voice, I was stung by his comment. "Your mother? Who has never needed a reason to not like me?"

I took in a breath of nicotine, realizing my voice was beginning to crack under my sentiment. "Or my father? Who's discarded everything I've done since you came in the picture?" 

He appeared to be trying very hard to keep his composure from reaching a violent point. 

"Your daddy issues aren't my problem," Namjoon slammed a chair down, the loud noise echoing off the ceiling of the bar. "I am not your goddamn problem!" 

This has been one of the few times I had ever seen Namjoon be fueled by his anger. But I couldn't find it in me to care. In that instance, I felt completely lethargic about it all. "You aren't a member of this club. You don't know your place and that-!" 

He stopped to breathe, to lower his voice before he did something bad. "That is your fucking problem." 

It was strange that the moment his voice softened, I lost my temper. 

"Son of a bitch," I muttered before rising to my feet. I clutched the drink tightly in my fist, using all of my force to hurl the glass at him. 

Namjoon barely stepped out of the way on time. The shattering glass missed his face by mere inches, the alcohol trailed along the six feet of floor between us. I could feel my body tremble with wrath.

"I'm always wrong, aren't I?" I said, speaking more aggressively than before. "I don't ever listen, right?"

The pit of rage that coursed through me left me feeling lightheaded and with shortness of breath.

"Well guess what, sweetheart," I mocked, regaining dominance over my emotions. "It's in my nature. Just like the rest of you, I have a problem with authority."

I was acting exactly the way that my father raised me. I was a spitting image of everything he believed in. "And I am sick to death- of being crushed under the weight of selfish men who don't believe in anything."

Namjoon hadn't said a single word, he hadn't moved an inch of his cold face. I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't care if he thought I was crazy or the saddest thing to walk the face of the earth.

It seemed that the more I tried to be who I was, the more I was denied. So, I began to question; why should I be the one to be discarded?

I dropped my cigarette on the floor, stepping on it as I walked in his direction. The room between us smelled of the cigarette I just put out, and the whiskey I didn't drink. I came to stand so close to him, the closest I had ever been. 

He was significantly taller than I was, he towered over me like a mountain. I looked into his obscure eyes and questioned what made him so much better than me?

"My father thinks you're the greatest," My voice was barely a whisper full of venom. Namjoon was stiff in place as my fingers danced their way to the button of his jeans. His strong brows cut into his eyes that began to blacken. "Show me what makes you so goddamn special..." 

He was on me in less than a second. 

His lips pressed against my own with great intensity. His hands stroking their way down to my hips, where he urged them against him. 

I couldn't even find a taunt on my lips as he stuck his tongue between them. It was warm and soft against mine. The taste of him sent shivers across my body. The rage he brought out of me went directly from my chest to the place between my legs. 

My hands felt their way up to his rising torso. I cursed the thin fabric that kept me from scratching his skin. I settled for wrapping my arms around his neck, my hands sinking straight into the locks of his platinum hair. 

He paused for the second I pulled at his roots, letting out a grunt of frustration before moving down to attack my vulnerable neck. His teeth drew moans from my mouth, my eyes fluttering closed at the mixture of kisses and bites. 

He grew irritated by the clothes between us. His hands struggled to push me back, I lightly stumbled on my feet, Namjoon used his black eyes to search my trembling figure. He grabbed the collar of my blouse, ripping open most of the buttons in one yank. The lack of clothes underneath drove him wild.

His hands were on me again after that. He couldn't wait any longer and picked me up by my thighs. My hands impatiently began to push up his black shirt. Namjoon managed to locate the only standing table in the bar and dropped me upon it. His shirt came off the instant I hit the wood, I kept it beside me on the table. 

"You're such a pretty girl," he hissed as I arched my chest toward him. His fingers handled the buckle of my belt before pulling my button undone. "But you’re so very, tough to please," 

I hated how much I loved to hear him talk to me. I pulled back into a heated kiss. My hands finally began to feel his creamlike skin under my fingernails. The feeling sends his skin to tremble under my touch as I kick off my shoes. 

They tumbled to the ground and Namjoon found the waistband of my pants. His lips still pressing bruises against mine, I didn't want him to pull away. He did so to pull my pants down my legs, panties and all, leaving me almost completely bare on the table. 

He leaned his damp forehead against mine. His eyes had a stronghold on my own as his hands rubbed the supple skin of my thighs. 

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, pulling me closer to the edge of the table. I gulped and took my breath all the same. 

All I could give him was a panting whimper and nodding gesture. 

But that was enough.

Namjoon palmed my heat, leaving my body wanting more, making it long for him. I gripped his broad shoulders, leveraging my hips closer to him. He took the suggestion and pushed his pants down his thighs. I didn't even get a glance at what he had to offer until he was pressing at my opening.

He left me breathless. I was a whining mess under the force of his hips. 

"Shit," Namjoon's voice strained under the pleasure. 

His fingers pressed into the skin of my hips, holding them in place as he pounded into me. I was struggling to keep my eyes open. 

"Oh god..." I wished my voice hadn't trembled. 

I was almost embarrassed at the noise that left my mouth, I begged him to shut me up. His mouth was addicting, each stroke of his tongue was like silk. My bare legs caressed along his, as I held back every urge to lock them around his waist. 

The marks I was leaving along his back must have gotten painful because Namjoon grabbed a hold of my wrists. He pinned my hands flat on either side of me. This gave me enough room to lean back on them, offering him some room to explore. His lips were so full and smooth, I couldn't help but to want them all over me.

In this position, he leaned forward, making his thrust start to move at an angle. My eyes threatened to roll back at the new depth. His eyes relished in the display of my body. My breast stuck to the thin material of my blouse and moved at the pace of his hips. 

"Oh! Namjoon..." Now that my hips were free from his hold, I began to roll them against him, almost uncontrollably.

He drifted forward to capture my lips, pressing a more delicate kiss into them. His hand slipped off my wrists and found their way to caress the skin of my cheek. Suddenly the lustful moans that had been leaving my mouth were replaced by sweeter ones. His touch was gentle, and I couldn't help but admit that his intimacy made me uncomfortable. 

I took his bottom lip into my mouth and grazed it with my teeth. I saw his eyes open as he let out a low growl from the back of his throat. I pried my hand around his neck, my claws digging at the surface of his nape.

He immediately understood what I wanted and was not afraid to give it to me. 

Namjoon hooked his arms around my legs, spreading my legs wider and pushing me further onto the table. I didn't think he could go any faster, but for once, I was happy he proved me wrong.

"Ah! Yes!" I cried.

That place deep inside of me he hit so flawlessly it made my eyes tear with joy. The sounds coming from my mouth were like evidence of that. I wanted to just shut my eyes and let the feeling consume me. However, he was an extraordinary sight before me.

Namjoon's head was slightly tossed back, eyes shut in concentration and bliss. His jaw clenched every time he tried to suppress one of his moans.

I tighten my walls around him, just to watch how his mouth opens with a groan.  

"Fuck! You're so good." He was living a high life.

Our rapid breathing and ecstatic moaning filled the room. At his pace, he could have easily taken me to the top.

It was such a shame our time had to be cut short by a voice that was not our own.

"What the fuck is this!?" That was rage only his mother could spit. 

Namjoon pulled out of me immediately as he heard his mother came in from the garage. I made sure to moan loud for her as he left me feeling empty inside. 

Namjoon's body covered enough of me as I caught Jaeeun's murderous expression in my line of sight. My mind was still clouded by ecstasy but that wasn't the reason my lips wore a smile. 

My father walked in moments later at the sound of Jaeeun's startle. He was just on time to catch Namjoon pulling up his pants, and my lower half covered by his black shirt. 

Their expressions were priceless. 

Namjoon could do no wrong in my father's eyes. He was the son he always wanted. I was hoping this would put a little strain on their relationship.

Masterlist ≽

[arcticdementor]

You know what America needs? More mirrors for princes—the Renaissance genre of advice books directed at statesmen. On the Right, we have many books that identify, and complain about, the problems of modernity and the challenges facing us. Some of those books do offer concrete solutions, but their audience is usually either the educated masses, who cannot themselves translate those solutions into policy, or policymakers who have no actual power, or refuse to use the power they do have. Scott Yenor’s bold new book is directed at those who have the will to actually rule. He lays out what has been done to the modern family, why, and what can and should be done about it, by those who have power, now or in the future. Let’s hope the target audience pays attention.

The Recovery of Family Life instructs future princes in two steps. First, Yenor dissects the venomous ideology of feminism, which seeks to abolish all natural distinctions between the sexes, as well as all social structures that organically arise from those distinctions. Second, he tells how the family regime of a healthy modern society should be structured. By absorbing both lessons and applying them in practice, the wise statesman can, Yenor hopes, accomplish the recovery of family life. (Yenor himself does not compare his book to a mirror for princes; he’s too modest for that. But that’s what it is.)

…

You will note that this is a spicy set of positions for an academic of today to hold. You will therefore not be surprised to learn that Yenor was the target of cancel culture before being a target was cool. He is a professor of political philosophy at Boise State University, and in 2016, in response to Yenor’s publication of two pieces containing, to normal people, anodyne factual statements about men and women, a mob of leftist students tried to defenestrate him. Yenor was “homophobic, transphobic, and misogynistic.” (We can ignore that the first two of those words are mostly content-free propaganda terms designed to blur discourse, though certainly to the extent they do have meaning, that meaning should be celebrated—I would have given Yenor a medal, if I had been in charge of Boise State.) They didn’t manage to get him fired (he has tenure and refused to bend), but the usual baying mob, led by Yenor’s supposed peers, put enormous pressure on him, which could not have been easy. He still teaches there; whether it is fun for him, I do not know, but it certainly hasn’t stopped him promulgating the truth.

…

Yenor begins by examining the intellectual origins of the rolling revolution, found most clearly within twentieth-century feminism. One service Yenor provides is to draw the battle lines clearly. He does this by swimming in the fetid swamps of feminism; I learned a lot I did not know, although none of it was pleasing. He spends a little time discussing so-called first-wave feminism, but much more on second-wave feminists, starting with Simone de Beauvoir, through Betty Friedan, and into Shulamith Firestone, this latter a literally insane harridan who starved herself to death. The common thread among these writers was their baseless claim that women had no inherent meaningful difference from men, and that women could only be happy by the abolition of any perceived difference. This was to lead to self-focused self-actualization resulting in total autonomy, and a woman would know she had achieved this, most often, by making working outside the home the focus of her existence. Friedan was the great popularizer of this destructive message, of course, which I recently attacked at length in my thoughts on her book The Feminine Mystique.

…

After this detailed examination of core feminist ideas, Yenor suffers more, slogging through the thought about autonomy of various two-bit modern con men, notably Ronald Dworkin and John Rawls. He analyzes the dishonest argumentative methods of all the Left, in general and in specific with regard to family topics—false claims mixed with false dichotomies and false comparisons, what he calls the “liberal wringer,” the mechanism by which any argument against the rolling revolution is dishonestly deconstructed and all engagement with it avoided. The lesson for princes, I think, is to not participate in such arguments, and to remember what our enemies long ago learned and put into practice—that power is all.

Yenor describes how the modern Left (which he somewhat confusingly calls “liberalism,” but Rawls and his ilk are not liberal in any meaningful sense of the term, rather they are Left) uses the law to achieve its goal of the “pure relationship,” meaning the aim that all relationships must be ones of free continuous choice, that is, without any supposed repression. This leads to various destructive results when it collides with reality, including the reality of parent-child bonds, and more generally is hugely destructive of social cohesion. From this also flow various deleterious consequences resulting from ending supposed sexual repression; this section is replete with analysis of writings from Michel Foucault to Aldous Huxley, and contains much complexity, but in short revolves around what was once a commonplace—true freedom is not release from constraints, but the freedom to choose rightly, to choose virtue and not to be a slave to passions, and rejection of this truth is the basis of many of our modern problems.

…

Finally, Yenor turns to what should be done, which is the most noteworthy part of the book. As he says, “Intellectuals who defend the family rightly spend much time exposing blind spots in the contemporary ideology. All this time spent in the defensive crouch, however, distracts them from thinking through where these limits [i.e., the limits Yenor has just outlined in detail] point in our particular time and place. Seeing the goodness in those limits, it is necessary also to reconstruct a public opinion and a public policy that appreciates those limits.” Thus, Yenor strives to show what a “better family policy” would be.

This is an admirable effort, but I fear it is caught on the horns of a dilemma. The rolling revolution does not permit any stopping or slowing; much less does it permit any retrenchment or reversal. Our enemies don’t care what we think a better family policy would be. And if we were to gain the power to implement a better family policy, by first smashing their power, there is no reason for it to be as modest as that Yenor outlines—rather, it should be radical, an utter unwinding of the nasty web they have woven, and the creation of a new thing. Not a restoration, precisely, but a new thing for our time, informed by the timeless Old Wisdom that Yenor extols. The defect in Yenor’s thought, or at least in his writing, is refusing to acknowledge it is only power that matters for the topics about which he cares most. But presumably the future princes at whom this book is aimed will know this in their bones.

Yenor himself doesn’t exactly exude optimism. Nor does he exude pessimism, but he begins by telling us that “we are still only in the infancy” of the rolling revolution. This seems wrong to me; in the modern age, time is compressed, and fifty years is plenty of time for the rolling revolution, a set of ideologies based on the denial of reality, to reach its inevitable senescence, when reality reasserts itself with vigor. This is particularly true since every new front opened by the revolution is more anti-reality, more destructive, and more revolting to normal people, who eventually will have had enough, and the sooner, if given the right leadership.

…

For most purposes, what Yenor advocates would be a restoration of family policy, both in law and society, as it existed in America in the mid-twentieth century. I’m not sure that’s going back far enough for ideas. You’re not supposed to say it out loud, and Yenor doesn’t, but it’s not at all clear to me that even first-wave feminism had any virtue at all. To the extent it is substantively discussed today, we are given a caricature, where the views of those opposed to Mary Wollstonecraft or John Stuart Mill are not told to us, rather distorted polemics of those authors about their opponents are presented as accurate depictions, which is unlikely, and even those depictions are never engaged with. But we know that most of what Mill said about politics in general was self-dealing lies that have proven to be enormously destructive, so the presumption should be that what he said about relations between men and women was equally risible.

…

Penultimately, Yenor addresses such new frontiers being sought by the rolling revolution, with the implication that the rolling revolution might, perhaps, be halted. Here he talks about the desire of the Left to have the state separate children from parents, particularly where and because the parents oppose the revolution, but more generally to break the parent-child bond as a threat to unlimited autonomy. He says, optimistically, “No respectable person has (yet) suggested that parents could be turned in for hate speech behind closed doors.” But this has already been proven false; Scotland is on the verge of passing a new blasphemy law, the “Hate Crime and Public Order Law,” and Scotland’s so-called Justice Minister (with the very Scots name of Humza Yousaf) has explicitly noted, and called for, entirely private conversations in the home that were “hate speech” to be prosecuted once the law is passed. A man like that is beyond secular redemption, yet he is also a mainline representative of the rolling revolution. The reality is that discussion does not, and will never work, with these people, only force. Still trying, Yenor presents a balanced picture to his hoped-for audience of princes, such as discussing when state interference in the family makes sense (as in cases of abuse). However, such situations have been adequately addressed in law for hundreds of years; the rolling revolution is not a new type of such balancing, but the Enemy. Discussions about it will not stop it. No general of the rolling revolution will even notice this book, except in that perhaps some myrmidons may be detached from the main host to punish Yenor, or to record his name for future punishment.

Yenor ends with a pithy set of responses to the tedious propagandistic aphorisms of the rolling revolution, such as “Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings.” And, laying out a clear vision of a renewed society based on the principals he has earlier discussed, he tells us, “In the long term, the goal is to stigmatize the assumptions of the rolling revolution.” No doubt this is true; cauterizing the societal wound where the rolling revolution will have been amputated from our society will be, in part, accomplished by stigmatizing both the ideas and those who clamored for them or led their implementation. How to get to that desirable “long term,” though, when their long term is very clear, and very different from the long term Yenor hopes for? He says “Prudent statesmen must mix our dominant regime with doses of reality.” Yeah, no. Prudent statesmen, the new princes, must entirely overthrow our dominant regime, or not only will not a single one of Yenor’s desired outcomes see the light of day, far worse evils will be imposed on us. Oh, I’m sure Yenor knows this; it’s the necessary conclusion of Yenor’s own discussion of those eagerly desired future evils. He just can’t be as aggressive as me. I’m here to tell you that you should read this book, but amp up the aggression a good eight times—which shouldn’t be a problem, especially if you have children of your own, whose innocence and future these people want to steal.

[grimoiresontape]

The Black Art Books of Cyprian, Pt. I: The Arts and Doctrines of Cyprian

Revelore Press' Folk Necromancy in Transmission series recently released a landmark publication in the form of the late Dr Thomas K. Johnson's Svartkonstböcker: A Compendium of the Swedish Black Art Book Tradition.

It is with no hyperbole I call this text a monumental accomplishment of research and scholarship: translating, transcribing, and comparing over thirty original manuscripts of pre-modern Swedish folk magic to draw fascinating conclusions about the nature and implementation of such recipes and rituals. A profound practical resource for working magicians, this 666-page compendium will be greatly edifying for anyone interested in Northern European magic, folklore, and customs. In particular, the vein of Cyprianic and necromantic material here is especially interesting. Black Books indeed...

It is also a personally significant achievement of the Folk Necromancy in Transmission series to be able to publish this masterwork of Dr Johnson's posthumously, with the blessing of - and, indeed, a foreword from - his widower. It is an honour to bring this work to a new audience. I am exceedingly grateful for the hard work of my co-editor on the FNiT series, Jesse Hathaway Diaz, for his long hours re-inking and re-scanning the various (and occasionally especially tricksy!) seals, sigils, and runes of this monumental compendium; and of course for the fearless leadership and project management of Captain Revelore herself, Dr Jenn Zahrt.

As an editor on the Folk Necromancy in Transmission series, I am delighted to have been involved in helping make this publication happen, and so in honour of the Feast of Saint Cyprian and Saint Justina this day, this blog-post marks the first of a series examining the specifically Cyprianic material contained in this compendium. For establishing-shot context, I encourage all interested parties to check out Johannes Björn Gårdbäck's essay in the Cypriana: Old World anthology on the Cyprianus Förmaning specifically and, more broadly, examining our patron saint of nigromancy's reach and influence upon Northern European folk magic.

The Black Art Book collection curated by Dr Johnson boasts four manuscripts of particular Cyprianic significance. The first, The Arts and Doctrines of Cyprian, and their employment, is a compilation of thirty operations, remedies, and conjurations; explicitly said to be the teachings of our good Sorcerer-Saint. The second text is an exorcism, calling upon 'biblical and ecclesiastical personages to drive out the four primary Princes of Hell and their minions.' Such an exorcism is described as 'exhortations... presented as those made by St. Cyprian'. The third manuscript is a seventeenth-century exorcism and blessing which similarly begins as a first-person Cyprianic incantation. Both of these texts purport therefore to be the very words of the Good Saint of Antioch. Finally, the fourth manuscript, a collection of remedies and charms, is described as a 'Supriania', and consists of incantations and operations for healing, numbing pain, removing lameness from limbs, and - in a notable exception to the rest of its charms - a work of most explicit necromancy. 

This post is a cliff-notes breakdown of the operations and incantations contained within the first of these four documents, MS 12 NM 40.034. We end by considering one particular magical utility for the rod of divination described herein.

 The Arts and Doctrines of Cyprian, and their employment Ms 12 NM 40.034 (Onsby parish, Skåne province, 1809) 

1.      Experiment of the 'Snow-king' bird This collection begins with a very short and somewhat strange operation in which one kills and then resurrects a bird 'that is called "snow-king"'. The operation foregrounds a charm that can be said over the wound 'as a plaster' that will heal it, and which perhaps might be used on other wounds, but the necromantic dimensions of killing and then healing an animal should not be lost on us. While some of these operations seem to be unrelated and have no particular succession, some we shall encounter later are quite definitely deliberately ordered so as to be performed in proper sequence. It is therefore tempting to see this first operation as somewhat of an initialising empowering mystery, that might begin our further engagement with these Arts and Doctrines... 

2.      Cyprian's Exorcism This exorcism is also first-person, beginning 'I, Cyprian, the worshipper of the eternal God and Jesus Christ's only son, the pure and true Gospel, confess by the holy Spirit in Christ Jesus whereof here I exorcise you devilishness and exhort you by God', before going onto 'exhort and forbid' the evil influences upon a patient and bless them with the peace of God and Jesus Christ.

3.      The Litany to exorcise sick people This litany consists of a relatively short prayer focused upon calling for God's mercy, before employing a Pater Noster and concluding with a short Latin passage.

 4.      A work for breaking enchantments This operation is a clear example of a particular "gaming" of certain conventions of spell-craft: in this case, that an enchantment can only last as long as the victim is alive. It therefore mimics the conditions of being dead - specifically, of being buried 'into the earth' - by instructing the bewitched to put a section of cut turf upon their head and recite a charm that makes the case that the enchantment must now be ended given they fulfil such criteria 'now I have earth both under me and above me and await healing now'. The sod of soil is also replaced once this operation is performed, suggesting there is also a certain transference of the enchantment into the earth at work here too - a suggestion further solidified by the final instruction to return home without looking back.

5.      A work of conjuring away gout Gout is conjured out of the limbs of the patient by appealing to its various colours: 'you yellow gout, you blue gout, you red gout'. That this is indeed a conjuration of the disease itself is interestingly supported by this second-person form of address to 'you... gout'. 

6.      A work of unbewitching cattle A prayerful incantation and exorcism to be said over the cud given to cattle who are 'unable to live, or thrive'. Ultimately, this charm forbids 'all sorcery, hauntings, and devilishness and all types of sickness that are recounted here', before closing out with a Pater Noster, Benediction, and short blessing.

 7.      Advice on milk stealing Advice attributed to John Kolerius on how a 'milk-defiler' can ruin or steal your dairy, immediately followed by...

 8.      Protecting cattle from milk-hare ...advice on how to protect your cattle's new calves from such larcenous assaults, which involve feeding the infant a mixture of certain substances in rye-bread.

 9.      A means to perceive if the butter has been bewitched Also a discussion of methods of magically torturing those who have stolen butter or cheese.

 10.  The breaking off of a divining rod Instructions on acquiring a rod, which is charged that it will 'always and forever say to me the whole truth about what will happen in the future, and what will happen in the immediate present, and what in the past has happened'. Moreover the rod is instructed to also reveal 'the treasures that are under or are within the earth'. Such a conjuration, again directed at 'you, Rod', also includes appeal to the four Elemental Kings of Cherub, Thorsis, Oriel, Seraph.

 11.  A conjuration for this rod, if you wish to know something or wish to find a treasure Having consecrated the rod for this use, the following operation presents the means to actually employ the divining rod for such a purpose. It too cleaves to appeal to 'the four Elemental Rulers Chrerub, Tharssis, Ariell, Serafhim'; indeed conjuring each ruler specifically by their element. The operation concludes with a nota that asserts and assures in equal measure that 'the often named Elemental Kings and spirits Cherub, Torssis, Uriel [sic], Seraph are actually: good angels foreordained to rule over the stars or the planets.' Having established the righteousness of such work, the next few operations are specifically centred around these ruling spirits.

 12.  The conjuration of the 4 Elemental kings (and the acquiring of a spirit-compelling walking-stick) This operation begins by establishing a circle of protection, directing 'You Elemental Kings will show to me and my comrades in this Circle the pleasant service of now and from this moment cast away all of the spirits of Hell and ghosts and all the parties of Hell'. There follows a series of written charms, glyphs, and seals for the apparent binding of a wicked spirit, as well as a series of means of compelling 'the spirit of Hell' to do your bidding. It also ends with a brief instruction on how to cut a hazel or oak walking-stick that may further coerce 'the Spirits of Hell to follow your intent and orders', a subtle phrasing that thus includes both the letter and spirit of an instruction. 

13.  To make a correct rod In fact two interrelated sets of instructions: the first, for acquiring and properly consecrating a wand 'that will attract silver and money'; and the second to 'conjure you staff that you be as strong that you now drive away all the types that I strike of Hell’s spirits'. Such methods demonstrate a common perspective on treasure-hunting necessities. Finding the place of buried treasure was only the first step; one must also be able to conjure and compel the spirits guarding such treasures to reveal it and give it up. One particularly neat conjuration methodology emerges from this operation: that of conjuring the spirit by a seal marked on a piece of paper that is then beaten by this rod, that 'this spirit of Hell I want to know and be able to sustain all the beatings that I will make with this walking stick, in his name, and be afflicted just as if he stood personally in front of me.'

 14.  To exorcise the dragon Given that this exorcism is directed at 'you old apadonius, who lies here on top of this treasure', and given that it instructs such a spirit to 'release this treasure upon which you have long laid', it seems fair to consider this dragon exorcism to be a further supplement to the works of the treasure-hunting stick above. 

15. To see what is coming A surprisingly simple operation of magical sight, one is instructed to anoint one's eyes with the sweat or moisture in a horse's eyes, in order to 'be able to see how it is'. Given This instruction falls between two operations apparently dealing explicitly with a treasure-guarding 'dragon' spirit, and so seems part of this broader endeavour, rather than simply a magical means of diagnosing a horse's ailments. Such a reading is backed up by the apparent referral back to this operation in the sixteenth working.

 16. When the dragon wants to grow Soil that has been consecrated by touring it through a church is added to seeds and then thrown upon the treasure spirit, making it 'fall and disappear altogether.' We are also instructed, calling back the previous working, that washing the eyes with spring water will return our 'correct vision' to us.

 17. When you want to attract money Again, seemingly part of the wider treasure-hunting magics of this collection, such an operation includes a variety of materia: asafetida, sulphur, the previously mentioned seeds, three splinters and a piece of the cloth from a church altar, as well as a knife (ideally made of nine different steels), your consecrated walking-stick, and a live cat. All these resources are employed in order to compel the treasure dragon to abandon its post. And fear not, the cat is not sacrificed; although it is dragged by the tail around the circle three times before letting it run away. A comparatively gentle employment given the usual trends in Cyprianic texts for animal torture...

18. For freedom for yourself, use these characters 3 times and tie them then around your waist and cast a circle around you Such a work of protection seems to have at its centre the preservation to 'pay heed to neither sword nor shot'. 

19. A conjuration of exorcism and devil-binding A conjuration of 'you unclean spirit' to 'turn away' from a bewitched or possessed patient, whose 'pain and suffering' is also abjured by appeal to God and Christ. The lines here between grimoiric conjuration, exorcism, and medical charm are not only blurred but ineluctably interwoven.   

20. A counter-magic incantation of protection A conjuration against all evil spirits, compelling them away from 'this place this evening'. Various entities are specified as bound: 'witches, mountain trolls, and sorcerers, woodwives and water sprites, all types of spirits and all types of poisonous hauntings'. At the conclusion of the exorcising however, a further impulsion is pronounced: ' in the Devil’s name, so shall your strength be taken from you, and with these words you shall have no power.' Such an imprecation might simply be directed to the roving bands of spirits previously mentioned, but this also seems a somewhat pointed directive against a particular individual. It could certainly be employed in a counter-magical manner as one. 

21. Against wolves This very short working operates around a fascinating deal made with the wolves against which one wishes to protect one's livestock. Offering three woolen threads clipped from your clothes at the first wolfprint you see on New Years, an appeal is made that 'with this I clothe you, but you and your friends will take your meals at some other place'. A gift demands a gift or favour in return after all.

 22. Against predators in the forest and others The proportions of a herbal recipe for a powder to be burned as an incense 'and also to take internally eating a bit', which is specified as 'for use by a householder in his day to day work'. One cannot help but note the practicality and even community preservation of such an operation. 

23. Eye salve is bought at the apothecary This entry merely states 'white galmaja'. No further information is provided.

24. For the brewing of liquor use this to cense the tin and the distilling tub A proportioned herbal recipe, with no further magical instructions; once more foregrounding the practicality of some of these entries.

 25. To free your bees from all evil or what it may be, and that they won’t travel off. Instructions seem to include inserting 'a little of a raven' into a beehive, although Dr Johnson notes this could refer to twigs from a raven's nest. 

26. A short exhortation for whatever, just use these words against all sorcery. A binding exhortation against 'the Devil Lussefärd, Bälssebub, Belial, and Asstor, with all their evil and angry company'. The Devil is also bound in all his colours ' both brown and blue, tawny and gray, black and white, yellow and green.' Along with the express actions and effects of devils, 'evil people's sorceral arts' are similarly abjured against.

27. To put down into the cattle-shed’s stall for sorcery and grounds where you have the cattle. A working to create a talismanic object of counter-magical protection. Beginning with instructions for getting out of bed, it instructs on simple purifications of washing, fasting and silence before carving an 'oak knob from the root', before further preparing it by boring '9 holes and write 9 Xs and nine types of fruitbearing trees, and garlic, and hair from each of the animals' are then stuffed into the holes. Thus ritually linked to the farm and its land and livestock, the object - called a "pill" - is conjured and activated.  

28. Stopping Thievery A written and spoken charm for compelling a thief to return stolen goods. A paper inscribed with the correct magical glyphs is burned as the short spoken charm links this to the actions of the thief and the intentions of the operation to compel return.

29. For constipation Allegedly taken from 'Hindrich Smit’s Healing Book', this operation involves inserting alum and meat into the constipated patient. After sitting for a good while in a chair, they are expected to walk around and 'be loosened'.

30. To protect horses over the winter from heaves This operation involves feeding the horses a small amount of their own hair, taken from 'the mane and a little from around the genitals and a little from the rump' mixed into their oats. This should be done in autumn 'when they’re just starting to be fed inside', and it is specified that the hair must be cut very finely or ground.

 Implications for Practice: Divining Rods

MS 12 should first simply be acknowledged for combining protection, exorcism, and works of physical healing with the more familiar cunning-crafts of thief-compelling, treasure-finding, and the conjuration of spirits. It is at various points eminently almost prosaically practical, and at others points deeply mysterious, with the assumptions, contextual skipping, and unexplained protocols of the spirit-work contained therein proving especially fascinating.

There are many threads I would like to pick at in this collection alone, but I will summarise but one piece of the largest block of instructions, conjurations, and workings -those of the divining rod. While the walking-stick clearly has broader applications in the conjuration, charging, and compulsion of unclean spirits, I will focus for now merely on its functions of it as divining rod.

Following the tenth operation's instructions on breaking off and performing conjurations of consecration upon a wand or rod, the eleventh operation in MS 12 is entitled: 'If you wish to know something or wish to find a treasure, you should do this with the rod.' As with the breaking off of the rod previously, the Elementals seem central to this kind of wand working. We are instructed to 'put the divining rod on the Elemental Kings Element where the thing you desire is hidden; and hit that place with it saying the previously mentioned Elemental King’s name in the following conjuration'. Such instructions - to strike the earth for the thing you want - are of course central components of treasure-hunting magic. Here the wand has a physical use. It is not merely a token of authority or means to weave subtle virtues - although it certainly performs these roles too. It is also employed to touch and interact with the land, its spirits, and its mysteries; not to mention actual soil, water, charcoal, and all the elementated wonders of the worlds.

The rod is instructed after multiple conjurations of the Elemental Kings to 'stand up, you noble Rod', and then more specifically to 'arise and show me without delay and without falsity show to me, Rod, the truth of what I wish to know'. I cannot help but note that such material would serve well as frameworks and material for preparatory prayers with which to begin divination. The suggestion that the rod may be conjured to express some form of motion or physical inclination perhaps most obviously calls to mind various dowsing practices - and certainly such rites seem apt for using a rod in this manner. But the combination of striking the earth and the suggestion of enspirited tool in the rod work of MS 12 strike me as also applicable to the practice of geomantic squilling.

Squilling is the point of interaction for guiding and ruling spirits of geomantic divination to express their wisdoms and to reveal truths. The diviner, in a particular state of tranquility and reception, projects a set of uncounted marks with a stick in the earth; once these points are made they are tallied into geomantic figures and interpreted. Popular early modern geomancer and magician John Heydon suggests the spirits conjured to empower (indeed, enable) our geomantic divination move 'the hands of the projector' of these points.

The rod work of MS12's tenth and eleventh operations - with its exhortations that all deceptions, distractions, and potential difficulties are exorcised so that truth can be revealed - seem especially apt for the creation and employment of a geomancer's squilling stick. I leave you with the opening salvo of the consecrations and conjurations of this magical tool:

'I conjure you Rod, by Adonaij tetragramantor Zebaoth, Eloeh, Abh. Eloo Elea, and I conjure you Rod by the Lord Jesus Christ: Siloh the adonaij tetragramator Elohim Ber. Lord of the wonderful name Skhadob mallo: and I conjure you Rod by adonaij tetragamator Elohim Ruach hakadosak hagion hagiotatum – and I conjure you Rod by the 4 Evangelists’ name, Matei, Marki, Lukas and Johanis: and I conjure you Rod also by the names of the 12 apostles, and I conjure you Rod by the names of the 4 archangels: Mikaiell, Gabriell, Rafhaiell and Uriel, and I conjure you Rod by the [name] of the four Elemental Rulers Chrerub, Tharssis, Ariell, Serafhim, that you will provide to me the correct truth that I wish to know, by demonstrating a quick dip before me, as truly as

Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, and as truly as Jesus Christ’s resurrection from the dead, and as truly as God lives and reigns, and as truly as God created the Heavens and the Earth, and as truly as God has created the Sun and the Moon, and as truly as Jesus Christ crushed the head of the Serpent of Hell: So assuredly you, Rod, will do this.

(N.B.: name here the purpose and give the correct truth to know if it has happened. Then put the divining rod on the Elemental Kings Element where the thing you desire is hidden; and hit that place with it saying the previously mentioned Elemental King’s name in the following conjuration:)

N, I [name] conjure you , you King of the Element of Air, who is called Cherub,or the Element of Water who is called Tharsios, or Earth’s by the name of Oriell, or Fire’s whose name is Seraph, by Adonaij tetragrammator Eloeh Abh.and by the invisible Elo Elell, and I conjure you the King N., of the Element N.

(NB: here is mentioned both the King’s and the Element’s name, which has just been mentioned.)

By our Lord Jesus Christ Adonaij tetragramator and I  conjure you Eoloeh ben Lord of the named names sadobmals: and I conjure you King N. of Eleor hakedosak Elohim Hagior hagiotator and I conjure you King N. of the Element N: 5 and I conjure you King N. from the Element N., in the name of the four Evangelists Mateus, Markus, Lukas and Johannes. And I conjure you King N of the Element N, by the names of Jesus Christ’s twelve apostles.

And I conjure you King N of the Element N by the 4 holy archangels Mikaiel, Gabriell, Rafhael and Uriell, and your name King N of the Element N., Steer and guide this Rod and lead it to your Element and help me through this Rod to discover and take up the expectation of my soul, so that I may find out through this Rod and come to the main goal and complete truth of my purpose and find it...'

[ms31x129]

Woohoo! Time for Chapter 4! I had to make a another DJ! I felt compelled! I hope I have ideas for 3 more! @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK  AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 4: Leave Your Demons At The Door  (Click on the name for AO3) or if you like Tumblr just clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary:

After seeing the past through Dana Scully's eyes, Jackson decides he needs a cold one. With the letter remaining in his possession, he finds a motel room to stay for the night and heads out to check out the nightlife. Of course, the past decides to hitchhike a ride. Jackson's internal conflict reaches a fever pitch when he steps into his birth parent's past at a time when they were fighting the future.}

“All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.” -James Thurber

Jackson entered the motel room and tossed his knapsack off his shoulder, its buckles scraping along the surface of the small table as it came to a halt. Not ready for any type of sleep, he flopped on top of the bed with an arm cradling his head and flipped blindly through the channels to drown out the noise of the rest of the motel.

A lonely emptiness ate at his soul like the dying feasting on its last meal. There was nothing scarier to him than the idea that he could be sentenced to a purgatory of existing like this, nothing and no one with whom to speak. No compassion, no remorse, his soul had darkened to the point of charred coal without a hope for recovery. So why not embrace it? Why choose to be alone in madness?

Guiltily, he had found pleasure in cruelty, a joy in its power as a boy growing slowly into a man. Not for the first time, impossible questions riddled his mind. What if inside he was one of them? A bomb waiting to detonate; his existence serving its purpose to end it all. He thought he’d never be pure enough to make it through the gates of heaven anyway.

Why toggle the light and dark? He wondered while rubbing the barely there stubble along his chin. What was he afraid of besides loneliness? What was there to fear when you were the monster?

The springs of the sagging mattress creaked out a warning as he rose up and headed out to clear his head. At least he could find company in the loneliness of numbers.

The streets he walked were nothing like any he had traveled before. Yet they were etched in his head with a sharp knife, a scalpel scoring information deep into his DNA like some strange work of art. As he passed storefront windows and busy restaurants, there was a familiarity there that tickled at his brain akin to recognition. The insistent feeling led him to a bar and his height and a little illusion granted him a bar stool and a beer.

“You’ve got to train for that kind of heavy lifting,” said the bartender as the used beer glasses clinked, clanked, and stuttered against the highly polished, lacquered wooden bar. After several drinks, Jackson was barely able to steady his arm enough to prevent them from crashing to the floor. “Having a bad day?”

“You could say that,” Jackson sighed, chasing down a hiccup with what was left in his glass. “You come here often?” he smarted back.

“I’m the owner of this establishment actually,” she returned as she wiped up the last of the spilled beer. “Tonight’s been busy so I’ve been helping out.”

The other bartender finished doling out the last of the drinks to the customers and joined her to help clean up. He pointed at Jackson hunched over against the bar. “You look familiar... and I never forget a face.”  

He didn’t reply, afraid of it getting him tossed out, instead pointing at the bar for another round.

“So what brings you here?” The older woman asked, her short blond hair wisping over her forehead like bangs. She said it casually, but Jackson got the sinking feeling she was either testing his age or his blood alcohol level. Both of which were enough to refuse him any more service. It would only take a closer examination of his ID to uncover it was created courtesy of a man in a long trench coat in a dark alley.

The two bartenders were waiting for an answer and his depression overruled his logic. He opened his mouth intending on just feeding another lie to strangers who cared nothing for him, but carelessly started to ramble instead and the room spun without him.

“I’m part of an experiment to conceal the truth about the coming apocalypse,” he scoffed, wondering if that were even true anymore while he fingered the condensation on the beer glass. “Contagions, on a global scale to wipe out the planet except for the chosen few. I’m the atomic bomb: the savior and the sinner, and I can choose to destroy or save every man, woman, and child on this planet.”

Jackson chuckled to himself at how crazy his tale already sounded. His hands and arms were now animated as he spoke, staring at the bartenders straight in the eye.

“So of course they killed my parents. I’ve been forced to leave my girlfriends, drop out of school, I’m more of a bad joke than a friend. I’m Jackson, but they call me William…”

The man had the same look plastered on his face that most people had at hearing anything remotely “out there.” The older woman just look resigned, as if she’d heard this same shit on a different day. Maybe she had. Nothing surprised him anymore.

Noticing they both were still waiting for him to finish his spiel, he dove right back into the bullet point version of what he called his life.

“I realized I was part of the X-Men when I was just a kid,” he huffed at comparing himself to hero’s when he felt like a manifestation of evil. He leaned back with his hands gripping his knees, blowing a stream of air through puffed cheeks. “And now I chase after threads of sanity, trying to find who I really am, armed with a letter and a prayer hoping to find the courage to go to my birth mother, hoping she still wants me and has some answers. I’m shouting to the heavens or whoever is out there on the other side of my one-way sonar that the sky is falling. It’s goddamn Armageddon: earthquakes, flooding, fire, and disease.”

Jackson shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Knowing anyone else—anyone “normal” would consider this insanity, yet they were the building blocks of his life. They were what made him him . Saying them out loud as if he were confessing to his mom’s priest at their old church on Sunday mornings felt like a slap in the face.

“I’m the shitstorm of alllll time.”

“Well, that sure makes me feel better about myself,” the woman joked as she closed out his tab. “Looks like 86 is your lucky number, kid,” she told him, effectively ending his rant.

Jackson got the joke. She didn’t believe him and thought it was all some big hallucination from his consumption. Through her stimpering chastisement, she was throwing him out and refusing to serve. The depression and irritation at not being taken seriously yet again sunk from his heart into his stomach.

“You know, I’ve come to realize that one is the loneliest number,” he said, sulking with an arched brow and bathing in self-pity.

“That’s where I know this kid from,” the male bartender interrupted. “You remind me of that Spooky Mulder man. The woman passed him a curious look.

“You remember the FBI agent? Used to come in here years ago with his pretty redheaded partner.”

The female bartender smiled and nodded, a glimmer of recognition danced across her face and she added, “I hope the poor bastard realized she was crazy about him and grew a pair to finally ask her out.”

“Spooky Mulder?” Jackson questioned. That was them. Goddamnit! he thought, realization dawning. Once again following in the shadows of their history; literally it seemed.

“Yeah, I remember him bringing in his partner, what was her name?” she asked the other bartender.

“It was the same as the famous baseball announcer.” He snapped his fingers while Jackson gaped at the irony of it all. “Vin Scully—Scully was her name. Brought her in here after saving her life out in the arctic or some shit. Or she saved his life? I don’t know if they ever got that straight. Anyway, they would drink in here sometimes.”

The woman examined Jackson’s face. “Now that you mention it, he kind of looks like them.”

Jackson was afraid the jig was up. He tossed a couple fifties on the bar and stood, using the barstool to steady himself as he blinked twice to bring his doubled vision into focus.

While stumbling towards the door, a gang of bikers were making their way inside, marking out their turf like a wolf pack. They were rowdy and demanding, pushing the crowd aside as they grabbed their barstools and ordered drinks, harassing the patrons. Another younger, inexperienced bartender tried to settle them and it only appeared made them angry. One pulled him by his collared shirt to whisper something in his ear. Another one held out a knife, fingering it like he couldn’t wait to use it, while another man displayed the holster of his gun. If this was a bar frequented by the FBI, they were taking the night off.

Jackson’s heart pounded within his chest with what felt like a force hard enough to crack a rib as it yearned to beat free of its cage. His senses went on high alert and every color in the bar glowed brighter, every noise louder, smell stronger. With every movement anyone made he was prepared to react.

The song “Glitter and Gold” played through the bar’s sound system. Adrenaline and anger spiked in his veins like he had a double shot of caffeine. They were going to pay for their drinks and their disruption.  

In a dopamine rush, Jackson covered his frame in illusion, a monstrous form he invented as a child. Everyone froze at the sight of Ghouli before them. The eyes of the witnesses of Jackson’s transformation bulged and he could hear their strangled cries of mortal terror. Bulbs burst from the fixtures until there was barely enough light for shadows. The darkness fed his rage. Even the stars and moon seemed to cower behind clouds through the window preparing for Jackson’s storm. Everyone, everything, was now his prey.

Through the mirror at the bar, Jackson caught a reflection of a young boy with utter terror taking over his once innocent features, and his mother with her arms wrapped around him ready to give her life for his survival. In that moment, something inside Jackson snapped, or finally broke free perhaps. He heard it like a twig cracking in his mind, a subtle deafening sound. He ran. The bikers fled fearing he was headed their way, but Jackson was running away, not towards. Running to feel the sweet pain in his lungs, lactic acid building in his muscles, reminding him that he was real, he was human.  

Jackson “the monster” was no more. The old him really had died in the depths of the water on that cold night at the docks.

Now outside, the cars zoomed as they passed him, the drivers never taking notice of the monster running down the street, half human half Frankenstein as his illusion faded. People were too busy hurrying back to a welcoming home, eating their sirloin steaks and mashed potatoes with their family, making sure the children ate their vegetables. Somewhere parents beamed happily as they knelt down to tuck their kids into bed with a story in hand...

Would he ever know that comfort again?

Depression and self-loathing, like liquid death swarmed inside him, the blackness flooded and choked him begging his body to choose his future.

Heaving and gasping for breath with his avatar long gone, he slowed and finally stopped, leaning on his knees as he hunched over and concentrated on not vomiting. The sky spun and he heaved out the night’s libations. He wasn’t much of a successful drinker to begin with. Somehow he ended up on the damp ground, not certain how it happened, but he could feel the frigid water seeping into his jeans. His hands rested back into the soil as his feet dangled off the curb and into the street.

That monster was not him and it would not return.

[illusionsofdreaming]

Could I request a continuation of the imagine where Kaze was in love with the MU? Like he finally acts on the feelings- fluff or angst is up to you!

Notes: Dear Anon, I know I received your ask a year ago. I wish there was some way to tell you that I finally got off my sorry ass to finish it. Sweet Anon, if you’re still with me, I hope you enjoy this little imagine of Kaze being a flustered mess.

Longer A/N at the end!

Ft: Kaze

He had to constantly remind himself not to crush the bouquet of wild flowers in his hand as made his way towards your treehouse. From the flickering light from your window he knew you were burning the late night candle again. It’s terribly unhealthy and its a habit he’s been trying to make you break for a while. But tonight he came with a different purpose than to remind a careless master to take care of their health, tonight… he looked down at the flowers in his hands and took a steadying breath.

He’s taking a chance.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few hours ago…

Lately as troublesome thoughts plagued his mind, when his heart’s in disarray, Kaze found himself seeking his brother’s company. He knew his brother wouldn’t tolerate being disturbed when he’s working, kin or not, so Kaze had waited patiently for a quiet night before knocking on his brother’s window, asking softly to join in his meditation session. Other than the narrowing of his eye, Saizo made no comment to question his sudden visit or purpose, the ninja had only turned away and returned to his mat.

Kaze smiled fondly as he quietly slipped in, closing the window behind him. Where others might’ve taken offense at Saizo’s seemingly blatant dismissal, Kaze understood the words that never left his lips. Do whatever you want.

Meditation was not a foreign concept to either brother, having learned and practiced together in the past. Where Kaze’s combat skills have always paled in comparison to Saizo’s, when it came to meditation he had always been better at finding the calming fog and settling where Saizo struggled to even sit still. It’s been a long while since they last meditated together, so it was a fond, familiar comfort to hear Saizo fidget and grumble in frustration beside him as he allowed his mind to drift.

Strangely though, calm was slow to come to him this night. His breathing controlled, his muscles relaxed, the fog was just there at the corner of his mind but the moment he reached for it, it slipped out of his grasp like sand. He focused on his senses and felt the weight of his body sink into the mat, the warmth of the night’s air draped around him and his breathing slowed- he remembered the coldness of his bindings seeping into his bones as he knelt in the throne room of Nohr. His head bowed because of his humiliating capture and his failure to complete his mission. But perhaps the heaviest stone on his chest was from guilt. That you’re alive and well was a blessing from the Gods, but it also brought no amount of pain to the ninja for he had to witness the consequences of his incompetence that damning day, so many years ago through the uniform you wore and the scorn you received. Kaze believed it to be divine karma that he would be captured and put before you, his life in your hands so many years later. He was a coward and dared not meet your eyes but he would’ve accepted death gracefully for your anger towards his negligence and failure all those years ago would’ve been justified. Instead he was surprised when your shadow fell over him like a protective cape as you stood with your back towards prisoners and pleaded for the lives of strangers- his eyes snapped open, his fists clenched on his lap as he released his breath. Mortified and embarrassed he looked towards the side only to find (to his immense relief) Saizo’s still form. Shaking his head, he tried again.

Calm… Deep breaths.. Think of nature… think of the sea.. think of… the strength of your grip was bruising as the ground disintegrated from beneath him. Despite the very real risk of falling together you refused to let go, promising him fates worse than death dare he let go and give up. He remembered the shame that swarmed him when he told you the truth behind your kidnapping and the overwhelming relief of being absolved of his guilt regardless.. But most of all he remembered when he finally found a master to pledge his allegiance to and that of all people it would be you- His breath stuttered as he shook his head furiously. Again.

He focused on the sound of Saizo’s breathing, trying to match their breaths together and slow his racing heart. He remembered the lightness of your laughter, the hint of breathlessness hanging at the end. He remembered how your cheeks would color first and how your blush only brought the color of your eyes out more-

“Enough!” Kaze’s eyes flew open in shock, pinwheeling backwards as he fell on his elbows as Saizo’s shadow loomed over him

“Out.” Saizo’s face was thunderous as Kaze froze in confusion.

“Saizo-“

“Out!”

Kaze yelped as his brother hauled him to his feet and without waiting for him to regain his balance, began bodily dragging him at a punishing pace towards the door. Panicked, Kaze struggled to keep up, confused and more than alarmed at his brother’s sudden fury at him.

“W-wait! Brother-“ and was blatantly surprised when Saizo did stop, only to have his heart drop to his stomach when Saizo opened the door. Kaze barely had time to hold his arms up to avoid smashing his face against the railings of the balcony as he was roughly ejected from his brother’s room.

“You’re pathetic! And you dare call yourself a ninja from Igasato!” Saizo’s form framed the doorway, the light from his room threw his features into shadows, turning Saizo’s already furious expression, menacing.

“Wait brother I do not understan-“ Kaze flinched when Saizo’s sharp hiss cut through him.

“Don’t you dare! Have you forgotten everything you’ve learned from our mentors? Is this how a brother of mine should act? Moping about like an infant child who’s lost their toy?”

Kaze flushed. “I am not-“

“You are!” Saizo thundered and Kaze fought against the urge to cower against his brother’s piercing glare. “Our father did not raise us to become cowards! You will talk to ____________ like an adult and stop this revolting display or so help me I will-“

“It won’t happen!” Kaze interrupted with vehemence that surprised even himself. “They’re my master, the one I’ve pledged my service and life to! It’s unbecoming of a retainer to harbour feelings for their masters. And after waiting for so long, I do not wish to lose this friendship with ___________-“ His survival instincts kicked in and his jaws snapped shut as a dangerous flash crossed Saizo’s eyes.

Saizo took a step forward and Kaze edged backwards in response. “The poisoned cup.”

Kaze startled and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “W-what?”

“If the only thing between you and completing your duty is a cup of wine that might be poisoned, will you drink it?”

It’s one of many thought experiments the brothers have been tested with during their training many, many times. If an important charge was taken hostage and they were given a choice, to drink the possibly poisoned wine or turn around and leave, what would they choose to do?

The answer was simple, Kaze barely had to think about it, but why would Saizo bring this up now- An annoyed twitch under Saizo’s eye was more than enough warning for Kaze.

“Yes-”

“Why!” Saizo snapped.

“Because at least there’s still a chance in saving them if I took the risk-“ Kaze stopped abruptly, his eyes widened as his face flushed under Saizo’s scrutiny.

Saizo snorted.

“I’m an idiot.” Kaze huffed, hand rising to cover his face as laughter bubbled from his lips. The troublesome knot in his chest loosened slightly.

“Thank you Saizo.” Kaze gathered his legs beneath him and hopped up. Stretching upwards he released the pent up breath stuck in his chest and wondered at the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. His smile widened when he noticed the blush on his brother’s face.

“Get out of my sight.” His brother grizzled, abruptly turning away to head back into his room.

“Wait brother,” Saizo paused by the doorway and Kaze grinned, “Did you really just compare confessions of love to ingesting poison-“

Saizo slammed the door in his face.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Kaze chuckled at the memory, one hand smoothing back to rub his sore behind. Saizo really didn’t hold back when he kicked him out of his room.

Take the risk, Kaze.

He glanced at the flowers. He glanced at your door. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to have multiplied hundredfold in the short walk to your treehouse and he took a steadying breath to anchor himself before rapping his knuckles against your door.

There was a muffled shout and the sound of something crashing to the ground before the patter of footsteps grew in volume. The startled surprise on your face was amusing when you hesitantly peeked out the door.

“Kaze? Is everything alright?”

The sound of your voice sent his heart racing and his grip on the bouquet behind him tightened just slightly.

His smile was shaky as he breathed out and for a moment the urge to flee grasped him. But then his tender behind reminded him of his lesson. “Sorry to bother you so late __________, there’s-“ he swallowed nervously. 

It’s now or never.

“There’s something important I have to tell you..”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ BONUS ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Saizo rested with his back against the closed door, listening until the sound of retreating footsteps faded before he moved away. Kaze really was a fool, there’s still so much to be learned if he didn’t realise there was a third option to the dilemma all along.

“Don’t let your important charge get taken hostage in the first place, idiot.”

A/N: NGL, I admit I used this imagine to explore Kaze and Saizo’s sibling relationship with each other because SIBLING RELATIONSHIPS GIVE ME LIFE and maybe somewhere along the way i forgot this was suppose to be a reader insert. Some of you might be wondering how I know this ask is at least a year old- well, smartass me decided to date all my doodles and as you can see from when I dated my little scribbles for this imagine, I definitely received this imagine before Feb 28, 2018. I wish tumblr would allow anons to receive notification of their asks being answered. Nonetheless, I’m glad I finally finished this ol’ WIP sitting in my drafts.