#like his father. abandoned for the lure of the sun. abandoned in the sky to fall as his wings melted away

[writer-room]

Something about how Scar has always been proved, time and again, that winning is by not having friends. How he was killed by his teammate in Third Life. Just how far he got in Last Life before trying to be nice, reach out a hand and got shot down for it every time. How in Double Life his team could betray him again. How he didn't make it all that far trying to stick together in Limited Life. Winning in Secret Life, when he had no real friends he could keep. Something about how he's always made to be alone.

And yet, there's still something to be said about how close he got to winning when his footprints were covered by talons. How long his eyes shone green with a watchful eye at his back. He couldn't win even with a friend, but he got close.

But close isn't a winner. So why even bother? Do not follow Icarus into the sun, lest you see your wax melt off with him. Just let him fall. Let him fall. It won't be you, that body plunging into the sea. You'll be lonely when he's gone, swallowed by salt and foolish dreams.

But at least you'll live.

[yuechicake]

down by the shore.

summary: chase and qilan visit the ocean.

notes: 1.1k words, vague chase backstory allusions

In the mirror of the ocean, Qilan can see the sun’s buttery light diffusing on the water, the clouds smearing the sky reflected as aimless drifters on the waves. The water is calmer than she’s used to, a brilliant shade of blue that reminds her of one of Shery’s blueberry cakes, topped by frothy white icing. It’s all framed by broad swathes of warm sand, no sharp outcroppings or black rocks in sight.

Further down the beach, children tumble by the shallow shore and families carouse, lured by the gentle spring weather. Faint shrieks of joy and laughter carry on the salty breeze. It feels like a painting of another era, capturing a lifetime so distant from what Qilan has known.

Somewhere behind her, Chase walks slowly, pant legs rolled to his knees. His clothes are a complication of loose white fabric and tight brown laces, framing his body in a casually stylish way. He’s ready to catch attention or to hide himself amongst the crowd, whatever his next plan necessitates. 

Qilan has already stepped in the surf, water gently rolling across her ankles as she holds her skirts delicately away from the water. Somewhere, on that sandy expanse behind them, they’ve abandoned their shoes. Chase ambles up to her, dropping his chin onto her shoulder from behind.

Before them, the sea stretches like a silk shawl, boats beading its expanse. Chase asks, “How many deucalions would it take to know your thoughts?” 

“More than you could ever steal,” she says, before relenting, “The water is a lot warmer than I’m used to.”

“Really? I think it’s a bit chilly.” He drapes his arms around her waist, resting his weight on her.

“Around where I grew up,” she says, the words slipping out more easily than they ever have before, “It was always cold, even during the summer. My village was up on a cliff, and the waters crashed against the rocks. I could hear it at night.”

“Huh. I thought you said you played near the beaches.”

“I did. The waters were rough, but I learned to swim in them. All the Ket children did, and we would often race. If you go out far enough, you could fish where it was calmer. It would take twenty minutes just to traverse the paths down the cliffs, and the beaches were rocky.”

“No collecting shells?” Chase teases. “Or building sand castles? It sounds like you came out of the womb with a grimace and a dagger in your hand.”

“All Ket do,” she says, placing a hand over one of his own, tanned and warmed from the sunshine. “It’s why you can never win against me. I was running drills before I was born.”

Chase lets out a low whistle. “I never want to be on your bad side, Sunshine.”

“Then you should stop getting on it.”

“Ah, but it’s no fun otherwise,” he says. “You make it easy.”

“Just like you’re easily one of the most annoying people I’ve met,” Qilan returns.

“Don’t flatter me like that,” Chase says.

“What about you, then?”

“What about me?”

“You said you grew up by the ocean. Is this place familiar to you?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. Chase flips over his hand so he can lace their fingers together, thumb tracing nonsensical letters where it can reach. Whether it’s a nervous habit or a plea for reassurance, Qilan can’t tell. 

“No,” he says. “It’s not. I don’t know if there’s one stretch of water I can claim as my own. My father and I… we moved around too much for that. We must have sailed up and down the length of Blest. Sometimes, when you’ve seen all the different faces of something, the individual parts become unrecognizable to you.”

There’s a wistfulness in his voice, and it’s a familiar longing to Qilan. Somewhere, under the waves, they’ve left parts of themselves to the sea that will never return to them.

“It’s a home you can’t return to because it doesn’t exist,” she says calmly. “I understand.”

Chase squeezes her hand before letting go. “Guess we’re a little similar, Sunshine.”

The warmth against her back vanishes as Chase pulls away from her. In a fluid movement, Qilan turns, just in time to see him picking something off the ground and splashing back, flicking seawater onto her clothes. He beckons her closer, and cupped in his palms is a perfectly formed seashell, delicate, pink swirls speckled with flecks of white.

“A seashell?”

“Never too late to start collecting them,” he says, grinning. “But do me a favor. Hold it up to your ear.”

She obliges, scooping it from his hand to gingerly place it against her ear. In the hollows of the shell, waves roar and crash, a miniature ocean trapped within. 

“Nice, right? As a kid, I… used to look for buried treasure. Part of being a corsair, I guess. You start seeing it everywhere. But I would only find stuff like sea glass and sand dollars and shells. Back then, those felt as valuable as any piece of gold.”

“We could go treasure hunting,” she says. “And if we unearth buried gold, we keep it a secret.”

“Fifty-fifty split,” Chase agrees. “No one else knows.”

Qilan lowers the shell from her ear and slips it into her pocket, just as Chase unceremoniously scoops water into his palms and flings it at her, seawater dripping along her face and sliding down her hair, droplets soaking into the fabric of her clothes. 

“You can also do this along beaches,” he says, grinning. 

“Really, now?” Qilan says slowly, dropping her skirts into the water, where they float along the top of the waves. She methodically rolls one of the white sleeves of her blouse to her elbow. Chase’s grin falters, his perpetual sixth sense setting in, as he begins backing slowly away. 

“Sunshine?” he says.

“Hm?” Qilan says innocently, as she rolls her other sleeve up.

“Are you mad?”

“Now,” she says, tone still pleasant as she stalks towards Chase, “Why on earth would I be?”

“I just have the strangest feeling that you might be,” he says, still inching away with every step she takes towards him. “But that couldn’t be right, could it? We get along so well. We’re partners.”

“You should always listen to your instincts.” Qilan smiles. “Just so you know, I’ve never lost a race.”

She doesn’t even finish speaking before Chase bolts, and she breaks into a run after him. They splash through the shallow tides, wet sand sticking to their feet, water foaming around them. It’s childish, more childish than she has ever acted in years. And for a single, brief moment, she’s home again.

[vina-writes]

Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k] 

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale! 

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark​ [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?" 

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken​ [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina 

[divineangelix]

Known By You

Pairing: Din Dijarin x Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 2k+

Summary: You have been traveling with the Mandalorian and his child for a long time and throughout that time many feelings went unsaid. After three tiresome days of being away Din returns with the intent of making all his feelings and feverish desires known.

The bright day had fallen into immense darkness as heavy rain fell from the darkened sky — droplets swiveling softly down the windows of the cockpit. As the sounds of rain bouncing off the ship’s medal fills the air you sat comfortably in the pilot seat, your legs tucked under you as the child sat perched in your lap. Small coos left him as he saw the rain drizzle down, putting his small three fingered hands up against the chilled glass to catch them. His innocence and curiosity caused you to chuckle quietly, your eyes glazing over in admiration.

The sun's rays shined dimly from behind the grey, fast moving clouds and from this observation you could assume that it was late in the evening. This would mark the third day that your companion, the Mandalorian, had been gone after a highly desired bounty.

"Looks like it will be just the two of us tonight, little one."

He didn't verbally respond, he only looked up at you with wide eyes, seemingly understanding what you were saying. As if sensing the absence of his father the situation caused his eyes to droop slightly as if he were burdened by the lack of his fathers presence.

While trying to comfort him, and yourself, your soft and reassuring words reverberated off the cockpit's steel walls, "He'll be alright. Din will come back to us — he always does."

Moments passed and soon you realized the child in your arms was slowly but surely falling into the clutches of sleep. With your lips curled into a small smile you stood to your feet with the drowsy child in your arms, "Time for you to rest, ad'ika."

Though the conversations were always one sided you never felt lonely when Din left you and the child on the Razor Crest. The child always seemed to understand what you were saying and seemingly nodded along to contribute to the words that would leave your lips. The child curled further into you, soaking in your body heat as if it were his own. As you made your way down the ladder his small hand gripped tightly onto the material of your shirt, clutching it in his tiny fist. Though the cracks of barely opened eyes his dark orbs watched you intently.

As you walked your mind wondered, coming to the conclusion that you envied the small child whom held tightly onto your shirt. A sigh left your lips as you opened the compartment that harbored the child's small hammock and the Mandalorian's small bed. As you tucked the child into his swinging hammock your eyes fell onto the unmade bed behind him. The blankets were in disarray and a singular pillow was still scrunched up from its last use. Your breaths became uneasy as you were plagued with only one question: what if something bad really did happen to Din?

What would you do then?

Nothing but worries clouded your better judgment as you slowly but surely fell into a panic. Your body tensed as you gazed onto the child and in seeing that he was fast asleep and swaddled in his blankets you back away and pressed the button, watching as he disappeared from sight behind the steel door. If something truly did happen to Din you couldn't stand to be on this ship anymore — not without him. Looking around there were so many memories, happy memories. You couldn't bear to shift through the silent and never ending confines of hyperspace if he wasn't by your side.

You knew what emotions you were feeling within yourself and it scared you more than you were willing to admit. But, in some twisted way, the fear of losing him made this feeling more prominent.

With heavily burdened footsteps you came to the cockpit ladder, pausing your strides as you sighed quietly to yourself. You were tired, not just physically but mentally as well. Your worries did you no good as it only made you fall faster into fatigue and weariness. The comlink in your pocket felt as if it was weighing you down.

There would be no harm in checking in, right?

He only wanted the comlink to be used in an emergency and your worries were no emergency. Making the finale decision to leave well enough alone, you pushed the thought of the comlink from your mind as you continued to climb up the ladder. With a grunt you heaved yourself up into the cockpit and made your way to a compartment and opened it. Once the small compartment was opened it revealed a stash of blankets and such which cause you to smile. Pleased with your findings you managed to reach out with trembling hands to grasp the thin fabric. Though the fabric of the blanket wasn't much, it was something.

Carelessly you made you way to the pilot seat once again, unraveling the blanket and tugging it under your chin to enclose your shivering body. Glancing out the window you continued to watch the rain drizzle down, leaving trails of water cascading down the glass. While entranced by the scene in front of you, your eyes began to flutter closed as you watched the planet become darkened by the shadow of nightfall.

You allowed your tired body to sink deeper into the seat, the seat that your companion would normally sit in. You sat in his chair as you drifted off, your thoughts sailing along the tide of a stream to him. While you pictured him your worries withered away, causing your chest to rise and fall as a content breath blew out from between your parted lips. While your mind painted a mural of him you fell into the veil of slumber and for a moment you were at peace.

The night's shadow slowly drifted on as the bounty hunter walked up the ramp and into the cargo hold of the Razor Crest. There was muddied water sloshing inside his boots, his clothes were soaking wet, and his cape dripped droplets onto the steel flooring. The tanned skin that hid underneath the beskar and underclothes began to regain body heat as he stepped into the familiar warmth of his home. As he stood there he closed his eyes, relishing in the heat that filled the air around him. Short seconds went by before the armored man decided to open his eyes and in doing so he noticed the lack of activity happening around him.

Knowing that the child and you were tucked away and asleep, he decided to take his helmet off. Once he did so he was greeted with air brushing against every inch of his face. In feeling this sensation it caused him to release a content sigh. His body lost its tense stance when he set the helmet under his arm and brought his hands to his eyes, rubbing them gently to rid them of their drowsiness. He needed to get off this planet, he needed to get away from the stormy weather, he needed to see you, and he needed to make sure the kid was alright. His mind was on a constant loop of needs and he wasn't all too happy about the protective instinct that kept hold of him.

He slipped his helmet back over his head; once again concealing his identity from the world and its inhabitants. Once he heard the hiss of his helmet latching securely to his armor he began his walk to the cockpit. When in the cockpit he noticed a small figure curled up in his chair. Under his helmet his eyebrows were knitted together in an almost bewildered expression. While looking you over he felt a tug from within him, something trying to push him towards you.

Though he tried to resist this pull that was luring him to you, he couldn't find the strength to abandon its selfish yearnings.

With cautious steps he made his way to you, his knuckles barely brushing against the outer ridges of your cheekbones. His breathing was uneasy as it projected through his modulator. With carful hands he brushed the stray hairs that fell onto your face. Though no one could see it, under his helmet he smiled softly at you while he studied your face that seemed to contort into a look of contentment during your slumber.

As if your body could feel the heat of his gaze, you began to stir awake. When you allowed your eyes to flutter open you were met with a shadowed outline of a familiar t-shaped visor.

Din

Neither of you made the decision to move or question the close proximity that you had awoken to. Your eyes followed the outer curves of his helmet wondering about the face that lies beneath. You have already seen so much of him underneath all the beskar because you've seen his heart. You see the way he treats the child, how he treats you. You know under all that armor he has a habit of caring too deeply. He's not the heartless and malevolent bounty hunter that so many thought him to be.

He was unknown to them but to you he was known. Maybe that's what drew him to you. Maybe that's what makes him want to show you things that his creed forbids him to reveal.

In your eyes he was a protector, a father to the baby sleeping down in the belly of the razor crest, and he's someone who you have fallen completely and helplessly in love with, "You're back."

He nodded, not allowing words to squeeze out from his tight throat. He felt as if you were intoxicating him with your presence, your compassion burrowing deep within him, making him feel confused and timid at the warm feeling. He was raised to be fearless, to be a warrior. Yet when he's in your presence he fails to remember much when he meets your eyes. You lay siege to him causing all conscious thoughts to dissipate from his mind.

The room was dark when Din decided to reach out to tenderly cup your cheek. As his hand rested on you he could feel your body relaxing under his touch. His breath hitched as he felt your lips leave a quick kiss on his palm, making him feel the heat of your lips through the leather of his gloves.

Before he could force himself to pull away a soft question slipped from your lips, "What do you want from me?"

That question, at the moment, seemed unanswerable but nevertheless the Mandalorian decided to respond, "I don't know."

His voice sounds soft and gentle but when you hear it you could sense some uncertainty lamenting his crackled speech as it came through the modulator. He removed his hand from your cheek and brought his palm to cover your eyes, "Keep your eyes closed." He whispered softly.

Without hesitation you followed his gentle plea, sealing your eyes shut until he directed you to do otherwise. His hand left you completely and you felt nerves bubble up within you, silently begging for his touch to return. You could hear nothing but the the sound of a hiss filling the room and you slowly came to the realization that Din had removed his helmet. Your silent need for his touch was answered as you felt his bare index finger slowly began to trace up your windpipe then ever so slightly he moved to trace your jaw. 

A sharp intake of breath seeped past your lips as you felt the warmth and tenderness of his actions. His hand halted its journey as he soaked in the sight of you, mesmerized by the way his gloveless hand felt against the warmth of your unexplored skin. His thumb was mere inches from feeling your lips and in this moment he knew exactly what he wanted from you. Din Djarin's hand held a slight shake to it as his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips.

"Can I. . is it okay if-."

"Yes."

You now understood what he wanted and you were willing to give him what he desired. Without sight you simply sat, awaiting the feel of him that you knew was to come. His lips, when they met yours, held nothing but love. The kiss started out slow causing your mouths to meld together in a perfect rhythm. You now know exactly how the Mandalorian feels because now, as his lips are on yours, he's showing you everything he failed to express with his words.

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 14

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ALL the characters in Twilight DO NOT belong to me. ALL RIGHTS GO TO STEPHENIE MEYER

“I can see you clear as yesterday Top down, fingers in the breeze Weavin' through the lights in the sky You said, "Baby close your eyes" And I prayed we would all always Hold on to this feeling, stronger, faster Faster.”

Kwamie Liv, Angel Haze: Pleasure This Pain.

I couldn’t remember much of the ride to the airport, nor did I remember much of the plane ride. I was in shock, paralyzed with worry and fear. Not for me per-say but, My dad, the Cullens, they were all at risk. I couldn’t stand the fact that any of them would be killed because of me. I wished my dreams could’ve predicted this, that I had somehow acquired the ability to see the future like Alice did. I could only predict death it seems... I hadn’t dreamed of anyone getting killed. Maybe it was a good sign, we would be fine. Yes, I would convince myself that... I hadn’t dreamed of anyone dying, we would be fine. 

The only thing I could remember was Bella constantly calling mom, she wouldn’t talk to me or look at me. I felt the same tension I always felt when I was around her a few months ago. I was livid with her, not one call to dad... not one. She clearly didn’t give a damn about his safety either, she was ready to abandon him. Throw him into the wolves to save herself... that selfish side to her had never left it seems. I pulled out my phone again, texting dad.

“Made it to phoenix, we’re safe... getting a ride to a hotel now. I haven’t changed her mind yet. I love you and miss you.” 

I read the text again, wishing the contents of it were true. I wanted to be safe, I wanted to be back home. I wish I was sitting across from dad in the diner talking amongst ourselves. I wish I was driving down the forest going to see the Cullens. I wanted to attempt to beat Alice at chess, to joke around with Emmett and Dean. To have heart to hearts with Esme who was more of a mother to me than Renee had ever been. I wanted to be with Jasper, wrapped in each others arms doing random things together. But, I had to come back to reality... I might not be able to do those things... ever again. 

The hotel looked nice and comfortable but I couldn’t stand the heat of Arizona. It was sickening, the hot air struggled to get into my lungs. The rainy weather of Forks sounded wonderful right now. Dean and Alice got us a hotel room and eagerly brought us up to it. I had a feeling they thought we would be fully safe in there. I put my bag down at the side of my bed and clasped on it, my exhaustion was setting in. Bella had sat on the one next to me and signed. She sounded annoyed to me.

“I didn’t want to come here, I wanted to be with Edward.”

I lifted my head and stared at her... I wasn’t going to snap... maybe she was just scared and was lashing out at people... yeah that was it. 

“I’m really sorry this is happening Bella, It must be really hard to be away from Edward.”

“Yeah it is! If you hadn’t said anything...”

“Look this isn’t either of our faults. If we’re going to get pissed at anyone, it’s James.”

Bella looked at, she knew I was right... I could see it in her face. But, she couldn’t admit it right now and just scoffed and went into the lounge area of the hotel room. She was making this more difficult, I wanted to snap at her just as much as she was angry with me. We’re falling back into the dark hole of resentment, it was suffocating. 

“Fleur? Could you come in here for a second?” Alice asked

I groaned slowly raising myself up from the bed, I went into the lounge room, Alice and Dean looked at me sympathetically. 

“How ya holding up?” Dean asked.

“I’ve been better.”

“Look, you’re going to be okay.” Alice said.

“It’s not about me guys, It’s everyone back at home... They could get hurt, and I can’t do a thing about it.”

“They can handle themselves Fleur, I’ve lived with them for decades... the know what they’re doing.” Dean said.

“But what about dad, I know he’s hurting right now.” 

“He’s going to be fine Fleur, I promise besides, Esme and Rosalie will be down there with him as soon as they leads the tracker away.” Alice said

“You guys are right... could we get something to eat, I am absolutely starving.”

“Sure, I’ll order room service.” Alice replied.

Room service had come, the food was devoured quickly. The nerves were still lingering in the back of my mind but I knew I would just have to have faith in everyone back at Forks. We were all sitting in silence, Bella was facing away from all of us, she looked tense. I heard Alice gasp and my heart sunk to my stomach... she had a vision and I knew it wouldn’t be good.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“What do you see, Alice?” Dean asked.

“The tracker... he just changed course.”

“Oh on.” I said.

Bella’s head whipped around coming to sit next to Alice.

Dean grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. He put it in Alice’s hand, she then started drawing where the tracker was going.

“So the tracker is going to be at a... Ballet studio?” Bella inquired.

“You’ve been here?” Alice asked.

“Yeah, I took lesson as a kid, the school had an archway just like that.” Bella added.

“Is the school here in Phoenix?”

“Yeah..” Bella’s phone began to ring, she went to the balcony and closed the door, clearly wanting privacy.

“If the school is here in Phoenix... he probably going to use the place as a trap in some way.” I said.

“Are you sure?” Alice asked.

“Yeah I mean... why the hell would he go to a ballet studio other than the fact that he was trying to find Bella and I.”

“We better leave then, get Bella when she is done and meet us down in the lobby.” Dean ordered.

“Yeah... I will.” 

The pair then left quickly, going to check out. I had just grabbed my back when my phone had rang.

“Hello?”

“Fleur, the tracker... he changed course.” Jasper said, he voice was dripping with worry.

“I know Alice just saw, we plan on leaving soon.”

“I’ll be coming down to find you as soon as I can. Your dad is safe still. We can go anywhere you want as long as it’s safe.”

“My phone’s about to die... I have to go. Love you, please, stay safe.”

“I will, love you too.”

I sat in the room, my body stuck in it’s place. He was coming here... we didn’t have much time to get out. Bella had burst through the balcony door, worry etched all over her face.

“Fleur we need to go, we need to go right now. James has mom, in the ballet studio.”

“Bella, calm down... I think it’s a trap.”

“Like hell it is I heard her over the phone. She kept saying my name she sounds terrified.”

“Think about this Bella... Alice just saw James change his course to that studio... it’s a lure Bella he’s going to kill you.”

“How selfish can you be Fleur!?”

“Excuse me!?”

“Yeah you heard me, this entire time all of this has gone down you’ve been trying to convince everyone you’re right.”

“I said two things Bella, I’m not trying to get people to follow me blindly... I use context clues... It’s been working for me these past 17 years!”

“I mean you just had to butt in that we had to go back to Charlie, you made Edward change his mind about taking me to Vancouver, and now you’re trying to convince me that mom isn’t in any danger at all! How selfish can you be?”

“YOU...” My hands had begun to shake, I pointed a finger at her hitting her in the chest.

“YOU, ARE OFFICIALLY THE BIGGEST HYPOCRITE I HAVE EVER MET IN MY LIFE. YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE DAD ALL ALONE WHILE A VAMPIRE WAS CHASING US... DO YOU REALIZE THAT IF HE DIDN’T SEE YOU LEAVE THAT HOUSE DAD WOULD BE DEAD?! AND DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I MADE EDWARD DO A DAMN THING, HE IS A GROWN ASS MAN... A 108 YEARS OLD TO BE EXACT... HE CAN DO ANYTHING HE WANTS TO DO. AND IT’S NOT “CHARLIE” IT’S DAD!”

“I am going down to that studio whether you like it or not.”  

Before I could get another word in she stormed off. Not matter how pissed I was at her... I couldn’t leave her alone in that studio. I would have to find a way to get there without Alice or Dean noticing me. I snuck my way down to the hotel lobby, I looked around for Bella, she was no where in sight. 

“She moves quick... I’ll give her that.”

Alice and Dean had just made it to the front of the line to check out. That was when I made a run for it. I made out, the sun already blistering my skin even if it was 8:49 PM. I ran to the nearest taxi.

“Hello, where can I take you today?”

“Mimi's School of Dance, please.”

“Of course ma’am.”

I remember the name of that school by heart. I had begged my mother to go when I was younger but, she never let me.

FLASHBACK...

“Oh c’mon mommy please?”

“NO, that is my final answer!”

“Why, Bella gets to go?”

“Because you’re way too lanky, you’d look like a dying deer out there!”

I had looked up at here, tears were spilling down my face.

“Daddy says I look beautiful.”

“Well there’s a reason why I left him... he has no sense to him what so ever.”

“I asked why I couldn’t go... not to get insults hurled at me.”

“Maybe if you’d just keep your mouth shut you wouldn’t have to worry about now would’t you? You’re just like your father... you never know when to shut up!”

“I hate you.” I said. I turned and ran back upstairs, Bella was looking over the corner of the room. A smirk was plastered on her face.

“She’s right you know... you would look like a dying deer out there.”

I didn’t even engage in her conversation, I just slammed my door shut. I didn’t come out for the rest of the day.

END OF FLASHBACK.

I stared out the window, the same mantra going through my mind.

“Just let me get there quick enough, please.”

[rodeo-boots]

Tear me down and Take me Home

Rating: Teen and Up 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Javier Escuella

Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirates, Fantasy, Merman Javier, Hurt/Comfort 

Warnings: mentioned Character Death

[check it out on AO3]

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Arthur was long used to silence, to nights that were deeper and darker than they had any right to be. He's been sailing his whole life, had seen more than most men his age ever would. But he's only believed half the things he's laid eyes on in his time.

This night, the sky was pitch black like he's never seen it before, the moon standing high upon the firmament, hidden by thin and harmless clouds. He used the stars for orientation, alone on his ship as he's been for a long time, abandoned by the people he's once called his family. They had left him, one after the other, had succumbed to illness or madness, had been taken from this life by force or misfortune.

It might be his influence that had tainted them all this time, that had cut so many existences short, and maybe, he was better off living in damnation as he did now.

He didn't mind it. Far from it. Arthur treasured the silence, found solace in the swaying of his ship and the movement of the waves. His entire life he's known nothing else, the ocean the only thing that stuck with him without fail.

Believe it or not, sometimes he left his ship behind, went ashore to stock up on provisions he couldn't obtain in the middle of nowhere, showing his weathered face to people who'd forget it in a heartbeat. He didn't have the luxury to linger, the blood in his veins telling him he needed to go back, itching and aching for the soothing motions of a hull above the bottomless sea.

There was a time he's been terrified of it, though Arthur couldn't remember much of that period. Back when he's been picked up, merely a dirtied and starving kid from the streets. He had despised the ocean then, had asked to return to shore even though Dutch reassured him of his safety, spending the nights crying and wailing because he was scared of what lurked beneath his feet.

Arthur had gone on land not too long ago, walking up the same path he's once known by heart, entering the dingy tavern Dutch and Hosea had frequented most. It had been almost comforting, the stench of the drink and of heavy tobacco smoke, the music filtering into his ears.

He had met a man, gray and scarred and grumpy, little different from himself. The stranger had lots of stories to tell, had nursed a drink in his hand while glancing up at Arthur with his one healthy eye, the other focused on a place up on the ceiling.

"You know the most dangerous of 'em all, boy?" He had asked, well into his tales already, though Arthur hadn't paid too close attention. The man's voice was hardly audible above the overall noise. Arthur had given him a grunt, almost curiously, looking up from the rum in his own hands. "Mermaids." The way he'd voiced it sure made it seem like the man has never met anything more repulsive and despicable in his life. But Arthur knew that his story was nothing but balderdash in the first place.

For some reason, he could remember the conversation still. The words never having left his mind entirely.

Soulless, heartless monsters these are. Luring sailors to the riffs, takin' pleasure in watching 'em crash and drown.

He hadn't bought into it before, his many strange encounters never having involved mythical fairy-tale creatures. The only dangers in the world were man-made. The only monster man himself.

It had been Dutch's philosophy, but Arthur still lived by it. He had never forgotten the things the man had taught him, even if he had left him a long time ago. Even though he'd exchanged his loyalty for gold.

Arthur stepped towards the wheel, glancing up at the stars to make sure he stayed on trail, though where it led him, he wasn't too sure about. There was no place he wanted to be, nothing he really wanted to see, craving the loneliness and emptiness in the middle of the ocean more than anything.

As he slightly changed course, however, an unexpected tune made him slow in his movements. Usually, the nights at sea remained quieter than the days, both fish and seagulls disappearing the moment the sun sunk below the line of the horizon.

It was odd to hear anything other than the rushing of the waves, more so when it sounded like a person was making those mournful sounds.

His legs led him closer to the railing, Arthur squinting his eyes to see through the darkness. He was getting closer to the sound, to the singing, or wailing or crying, words shaped in a language he couldn't understand, in a voice that sounded more like a harp than anything human.

Oh, they're pretty, make no mistake. Angelic, some call 'em. But that only makes them more dangerous.

He couldn't believe his eyes. A sliver of moonlight illuminated a rock within the water, and atop that rock – sat a creature.

Arthur had never bought into the many fairy-tales, into the fiddle-faddle even Hosea had used to like so much. Stories of the many wonders in life had never interested him, the magic of it lost when it came to things he couldn't understand nor grasp. He had experienced his share of suffering, of misery and pain, unwilling to believe that it could co-exist with the likes of fairies, angels, mermaids.

Right now, he wasn't sure if he was waking or sleeping, if maybe he would awaken in a cold sweat minutes from now, staring up at the ceiling of his empty cabin. It had to be his imagination, the loneliness finally getting to him and inducing images that simply weren't there. He had always thought such tales to come of crazed men after all and maybe finally, his own mind was starting to break from the long days and nights he'd been on his own – but the singing... he was sure his brain could never think up anything like it.

The creature was nestled on top of the stone, a naked human torso with two arms, a head upon it's shoulders with long dark hair. It appeared so much like a person, though Arthur had no way to ignore the tail, the shimmering scales that reflected the moonlight in colors he couldn't describe, colors he had no name for.

Silence soon spread over the area. And all Arthur could think about were the reverberations of that ethereal voice.

Why did they stop? He thought, unable to voice his words as his eyes tried to find the creature's – the man's, he had to remind himself. This wasn't some magical being.

"Are you lost?" the stranger didn't open his mouth to speak, the sound of his voice dancing through Arthur's brain.

Is it that obvious? he thought to himself, earning himself a laugh, clear and chiming like a bell, a startled breath escaping his chest. His tongue darted out to lick his cracked lips, dry from the salt-water splashing upwards constantly, from the sun burning down on him day in and out.

"Don't be afraid," the voice was in his head again, Arthur taking a step away from the railing, moving back to the wheel to hold it, to hold something. It had began turning all on it's own before, seemingly bringing him closer to the cliffs. Though he didn't know if it might've been him who's given it that impulse.

They get into your head, and infest it like a disease. They know what you fear, what you need to hear. Believin' a single word they say would be your downfall.

But Arthur was falling already, had been for a long time, yearning for nothing else but a comfortable place to land. "You deserve a break." He heard water splashing and as soon as he turned his head, the creature was gone from it's place – the man nowhere to be seen, Arthur rushing over to the railing almost desperately.

He shook his head, trying to snap out of it, rubbing at his eyes before taking a deep breath. The water glistened innocently under the illumination of the moon.

For years, he's been alone without feeling lonely, has lived on despite the emptiness that had taken over him. He had done well in forgetting Dutch and Hosea, his family, his brothers, his own father and the woman he had once loved. Neither of them had needed him and now, he didn't need them anymore. There was a certain heaviness to his heart, either way, a weight that seemed to pull him down, melancholy overcoming him like never before.

His eyes focused, and the man was back, closer this time. Arthur caught a glimpse of his tail moving beneath the pitch black water, the scales glinting in violet and blue – in many more shades he couldn't decipher.

"What's– your name?" He asked, dumbly, seeing eye to eye with this creature that was more beautiful than any human he's laid eyes on before. His skin was dark, bronze, his eyes deep as the ocean he was living in. He had scars, pain behind the depth of his gaze. Just like Arthur did.

He didn't want to remember the old pirate's words but he couldn't help himself.

Once they got their eyes on you, you've lost. 'Cause they see inside you, and find that weak little soul you keep locked away - and they suck it outta you with one look alone.

How could that be true if the man in front of him was looking at him like this? So honestly, affectionately... like no one else ever had.

"Javier," this time he'd opened his mouth to speak, Arthur's hands clinging tighter to the railing. The man smiled at him, reaching up and out of the water. His fingers were cold where they held onto Arthur's. But they were undeniably human; freezing like the ocean, but without claws or webbing between them.

"Aren't you– afraid of me?" Was what left Arthur's mouth next, his voice in disbelief that a creature as fragile and beautiful would be willing to touch him. His hands had been drenched in too much blood already, had killed and hurt, had broken families apart for his own benefit.

Big brown and bottomless eyes focused on him, and he felt ready to drown within them. "Why would I need to be afraid?" It seemed as though the man couldn't see into his soul after all, unaware of the rottenness within. "You won't hurt me," he continued, certain of that fact, his fingers clasping Arthur's a little tighter.

No, I wouldn't do that, he thought, catching the quirk of Javier's lips at his unspoken words.

Don't think they'd show mercy. All they want is to pull you down into the depths.

But maybe, he didn't deserve mercy in the first place. Since Arthur's purpose in this world was long forgotten, what difference would it make where he was? The presence of this man made him feel safe, warm, at home. And whether he believed in him or not, he couldn't deny that he was right in front of him now. Offering him a way out.

He gazed down at him, the melody from before flooding his ears again, turning his lids heavy and tired. His limbs started to feel like they weren't one with his body, though he still couldn't let go of the railing.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, unsure where the words had come from, the song in his head reawakening the sadness of his mind. "I want–" he wanted to stay with him, with this fairy-tale creature, wanted to fall with him and let go of the pain he's caused before.

Yet again, he didn't need to open his mouth for Javier to understand, his cold hands lifting to hold onto Arthur's face, pulling him down. "I'm not gonna leave." He brought their lips together, and Arthur could feel himself turning lighter, weightless, drifting for a moment until his body broke through the surface of the pitch black water.

Arthur didn't hear the splashing, didn't feel the cold or how his clothes grew soaked. His guns would be useless by the time he resurfaced, but it didn't matter, because he was kissing this man and they were falling together – deeper and deeper into the darkness of the sea.

Faintly, he remembered the old sailor again, though his image swam before his eyes.

And no matter what they make you believe, they aren't capable of love. They'll mourn after they've drowned you, but no grief is strong enough to keep them from doin' it again.

[agentrouka-blog]

I’ve been wondering what to make of Arya killing Dareon. I’ve seen this celebrated as an example of her making sure justice is served. But I felt so bad when I read that. Dareon didn’t choose to go to the Watch. He was sent there as punishment, probably on false charges. He didn’t choose to make that oath. When Arya killed him, it felt almost like if Andy had been murdered right after escaping Shawshank.

At the same time Arya isn’t warden of the North. She is in no position to be the one to sentence and execute deserters, which made what she did vigilantism at best.

Do you think GRRM means us to see this as justice? I mean, he does make a lot of people not breaking the oats the swear, but at the same time he makes it clear that a lot of the men of Watch shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

Hi non!

Well, I certainly don’t think GRRM is celebrating Arya’s choice here.

Arya’s murder of Dareon places her in a pattern of singer murders that encompasses many of our leading ladies (and lads) in the books. All occur in the context of injustice.

Cersei: the Blue Bard (if he’s not dead yet, he’s certainly headed that way)

Sansa: Marillion (indirectly)

Arya: Dareon

Dany: Mirri

Catelyn: Jinglebell (not a singer, but a “musician” with his bells and fond of dancing)

Tyrion: Symon Silver Tongue

Basically, none of these singers die justly, all are accused of crimes they did not commit, or simply for revenge. Arya’s case is no different.

Dareon is, to me, much greyer than what you describe. He may be innocent of the crime that sent him to the Wall - or he may say he is. He didn’t choose to go to the Wall, and he didn’t have much alternative to saying the vows, yes. But he is also being an irresponsible traitor because the threat of the Others to the Realm is real and he knows it. Gared is executed by Ned for defection but he tried to tell them about the threat. Dareon is just abandoning the responsibility that is inherent in his knowledge of what is going on. 

But that is not why Arya kills him. 

It made her angry to see Dareon sitting there so brazen, making eyes at Lanna as his fingers danced across the harp strings. The whores called him the black singer, but there was hardly any black about him now. With the coin his singing brought him, the crow had transformed himself into a peacock. (…) The only black about him was his boots. Cat had heard him tell Lanna that he'd thrown all the rest in a canal. "I am done with darkness," he had announced.

He is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. And the singer should be on the Wall. When Dareon had first appeared at the Happy Port, Arya had almost asked if he would take her with him back to Eastwatch, until she heard him telling Bethany that he was never going back. (…)

The swollen red sun hung in the sky behind the row of masts when Cat took her leave of the Happy Port, with a plump purse of coins and a barrow empty but for salt and seaweed. Dareon was leaving too. He had promised to sing at the Inn of the Green Eel this evening, he told her as they strolled along together. (…)

“What happened to your brother?” Cat asked. “The fat one. Did he ever find a ship to Oldtown? He said he was supposed to sail on the Lady Ushanora.”

“We all were. Lord Snow’s command. I told Sam, leave the old man, but the fat fool would not listen.” The last light of the setting sun shone in his hair. “Well, it’s too late now.”

“Just so,” said Cat as they stepped into the gloom of a twisty little alley. (...)

This time she did not hesitate. “Dareon is dead. The black singer who was sleeping at the Happy Port. He was really a deserter from the Night’s Watch. Someone slit his throat and pushed him into a canal, but they kept his boots.”  

“Good boots are hard to find.”

“Just so.” She tried to keep her face still.

“Who could have done this thing, I wonder?”

“Arya of House Stark.” She watched his eyes, his mouth, the muscles of his jaw. (…)

On her way across the city Arya had wondered what the kindly man would say when she told him about Dareon. Maybe he would be angry with her, or maybe he would be pleased that she had given the singer the gift of the Many-Faced God.

She had given him the gift. She claims it was Arya-of-House-Stark (tm) who killed him, and it was, but she did not execute a deserter in accordance to the law. (Which she can’t because she is in no legal position of authority.) She performed an assassination. She left when he did, she strolled with him, she never identified herself or “officially” sentenced him. She waits for an isolated moment and - in all likelihood - used subterfuge and surprise to slit his throat. Much like she used the already vulnerable position of the Tickler to butcher him, or later lures Raff to his doom. Or even the Northern guard when she escapes Harrenhal. (Their individual guilt is not the point. She kills by underhanded means, again and again.)

The case of Dareon is vigilantism, and it is at least partly fuelled by disappointed Anger because he fails to be an opportunity to bring her where she wants to be. And because his desertion is one thing she can identify as wrong and has the means to punish.

It is satisfying on the surface but it is not justice. There is no protocoll, no structure, no community, no authority. 

There were questions asked and answers given there in the chill of morning, but afterward Bran could not recall much of what had been said. Finally his lord father gave a command, and two of his guardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square. (…)

His father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head. (…)

“The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.

"One day, Bran, you will be Robb's bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother and your king, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is."

 (AGOT, Bran I)

She never witnessed this. And it shows. She passes the sentence and swings the sword, but she leaves out the important part that means enacting justice in the name of a higher authority that bestowed this duty onto you - part of a structure and community - and she leaves out the aspect of communication displayed by Ned, and explained by Ned. It’s not about the unaware mutterings of an oblivious assassination victim. It is about openly confronting a perpetrator with his crime. Arya practices vengeful murder. 

And I get why. Arya witnessed trials gone awry a-plenty. Lady was sentenced to death for nothing. Ned confesses and gets a surprise beheading. The Hound never had to pay for Mycah’s murder. In his trial by combat he kills Beric. 

I get why this desperately furious child is going down this route. But that doesn’t mean it is right. And I don’t think GRRM wants to imply that it is right. He is showing us harrowing tragedy on the page. 

[acatpersonapparently]

Jemtoria Angel AU: Part 2

i.

Jemima’s earliest memory is of the sun. The way it creeps though the kitchen windows of their small ramshackle home and sprawls across the floor like a lazy cat. The sun plays peek-a-boo with the clouds as Jemima bites back another scream. Her mother is tearing fistfuls of feathers from her back again. Fighting against their incessant growing in, like weeds eating at the good garden plants.

When the ground is littered an inch thick in holy white then (and only then) does her mother turn her around to face her. Cupping her cheeks and pressing kisses to her eyelid, her mother fills the room with wet whispers of love.

Darling child of mine

My sweet girl

My precious gift from God

ii.

Jemima received two names when she was born. One was lovingly placed on her skin with her mother's gentle touch. The other was the one given the first time the world bore witness to her. Monster they whisper, like the sin she was born from is contagious. A Thing That is Less Than Things. (The worst part is Jemima knows they're not wrong. She knows every time her feathers come in like stubble and her mother keeps her inside because today she is literally glowing.)

My darling girl, my sweet thing, Her mother whispers, rubbing ash into her fiery red hair and brushing powder on her skin. Anything to stop the poison gas leak of light.

Monster, sin, wicked thing, sin, Everyone else whispers. Jemima is too young to understand the Psalms that come stabbing out their mouths when she passes. She doesn't recognize the objects they hold at her. The wooden sticks, the glass bottles. All she can do is hold onto her mother as they're turned away from another door.

iii.

Jemima doesn’t think about her father most days. Demeter shelters her from that pain too. It’s not like she doesn’t know. After all, she’s nine years old and her baby teeth are almost all gone. Now, when the townspeople whisper when they pass, she bares her sharp incisors. Sometimes, on particularly bad days, her tongue twists into a language she swears to her mom she never learned until she is shouting through air thick with locusts.

She climbs trees to yell at the sky. Asking her father where he has gone, when will he return. they’re waiting, after all, they haven’t moved an inch. She wonders if he despises her too, thinks her to be a twisted creature all the way down. Does he hate her bloody knees? The soft skin of her neck? Is it the bits of humanity that has spoiled her rotten?

(She hates him so much some days for abandoning them that she thinks she’s a volcano, heading towards natural disaster, heat pooling in clenched fists. But, her mother is crying again, so she unfolds her fingers and places her warm hands on her. She won’t leave her mother, not like him. She may be a wretched thing but she's a good person)

iv.

Her mother hits her once, when she’s fifteen and all her limbs feel awkward and new. The tips of her wings graze the ground now and feather still comes in like stubble down her arms.

The melody had started itself inside of her. She didn’t mean to sing really, she swears. The singing felt like a relief from the loneliness, like there was an entire choir waiting for her to harmonize them. So she indulged herself a little. The hymn had burbled out of the gulley of her throat but it hadn't felt wrong. (not the way shoes feel wrong or the way her wings feel wrong)

Never again. Her mother hisses as Jemima holds the side of her face. Promise me, never again. Your singing will lure men in and seize their hearts, drive women to out of their minds, even nature will be pulled in. Never again will you sing. Swear it.

Jemima swears, upon her favourite book, on her father, on God and his heavenly hosts she half belongs to. If it weren't for the fear in her mother's pleading eyes, she would've hated her for it.

v.

When she turns eighteen, she runs away. Her mother is too old to be cleaning the smashed eggs and spray paint from their doorway. Her hands ache to massage the weight out of her mother’s bowed shoulders. (even though she is perfectly aware that she’s the burden that’s slowly crushing her to death)

So, she leaves.

It’s not just the wings she shares with her father, she supposes.

Jemima gets on the greyhound bus to nowhere without looking back. Her trench coat brushes the floor and she doesn’t make eye contact with anyone armed with even the sweetest creeping idle talk. Jemima is perfectly aware of the poison of strangers. She folds her soft-palmed hands and bows her head for the ride, hoping the facsimile of prayer will keep them from encroaching on her sacred space.

The desert is as good of a place as any to call home. It’s not like anyone here knows that she’s a walking monument to sin. She wanders through town, pouring over a book. She takes stock of the men that pass her, a woman on their arm. She watches the boys run up and down the small town’s main street. They look at her and then past her, practically right through. She is so wonderfully a non-entity.

vi.

She passes a garden, flush with spiraling vines and the scent of spring vegetables. Something beckons her inside with a sickly tweet tweet. Naturally, she jumps the fence without a moment's hesitation. There’s a trembling beam of white crying under the roses. She scoops up the bird in her world weary palms and extracts it from under a rosebush. Cooing, she notes the birds limp and unmoving wings.

Me too, little buddy. She whispers consolation, petting him with a single hesitant finger. She understands being a thing that could fly. The blue front door of this garden's house seems inviting enough and she doesn’t know what else to do with her little friend.

She knocks. The door opens.

Your bird, I think it’s hurt. Jemima begins but her words dry up under the heat of the stranger’s gaze. It’s almost open repulsion on the woman’s beautiful face. Her hands feel frozen around the little heartbeat. The disgust slips away from the stranger’s expression as she holds her hand out to Jemima. Jemima opens her cupped hands to her.

That’s not my bird. The stranger’s voice crackles dryly. That’s a dove.

Oh

The stranger looks her over with such scrutiny Jemima might as well be naked on the stoop. She decides to leave before the humming in her spine makes her do something strange.

Wait, I didn’t say I wouldn’t take her in. The stranger calls out, flinging the sky-blue door open wider, stepping aside. Jemima looks around, checking to make sure there isn’t somebody else this is for because the gentleness in the invitation is enough to make her weep. The stranger looks between the bird in her hands and her face, sweet enough as to take pity for the monster on her doorstep

You poor little thing, someone needs to be kind to you.

[ellewritesathing]

Faking It - Epilogue

Summary: You’d done plenty of dumb things in your life, but the dumbest had to be picking Greendale’s latest bad-boy to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Masterlist Part 6 | Epilogue

Word-count: 2.3k+

A/N: okay so about a million years ago @corishirogane3​ sent me the cutest headcanon for this series and i had to make it canon. i’ve rewritten the ending so much that i’m not sure how i feel about it anymore but!! i wanted to post this sugary sweet ending after my finals so 💕💕 i hope you guys like it

Caliban hated birthdays. His mother would always try her hardest to make each year better than the last, with more outrageous parties in the hopes that he would forget he was a bastard whose father cared more about his reputation than his son. It never worked. 

Kinkle: Happy Bday man! You’re still an asshole but I’m glad we’re friends again

As if his childhood confusion wasn’t hard enough, Caliban’s teenage angst almost burned everything to the ground. He was angry at his family for abandoning him and his mother, at the people around him for being conceited and boring, and at California for being too goddamn sunny. 

Theo: happy birthday to my gay awakening 💕

Birthdays made Caliban infinitely aware of his precarious loneliness in the world. He’d stopped telling people when his birthday was long ago, but somehow they’d find out and ruin his plans to spend the day alone and screaming at the sky. Year after year, it was just the same hollow wishes from people who didn’t really care about him.

Rosalind ✨: happy birthday old man. i got you a haunted portrait so you don’t wrinkle 

But this year was different. Caliban still wasn’t sold on the perfect greeting card birthday, but he’d been less angry since moving back to Greendale. Dating you - real or not - meant he got a group of friends as part of the deal, and the lot of you had extorted his birthday to draw up his astral chart. Apparently, he was an Aries sun, Capricorn moon - whatever the fuck that meant.

Sabrina: Happy Birthday Cal 💞

Still, Caliban could move across the country and collect as many friends as he liked, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever enjoy his birthday. 

With a sigh, Caliban threw off his covers and padded across to his closet. He pulled out his usual dark clothes and scrounged around for his leather jacket before realizing he’d loaned it to you. He smiled to himself and set to make himself presentable. 

This first hour of his birthday was always spent alone. It was one of the many birthday traditions he and Isobel shared, along with birthday pancakes, ditching the last half of school, and triple chocolate cake with Sour Patch Kids stuck to the icing. He was thankful for all the things his mother did for him, but that first dose of silence and solitude was crucial if he was going to deal with all the birthday bullshit that lay ahead.

Caliban’s phone dinged with yet another notification and he stopped in the middle of the hallway to dig his phone out of his pants pocket. Sure, Caliban talked a big game about hating birthdays but he still checked every text he got, hoping for ... something. 

Fitch: Happy non-birthday to the best not fake boyfriend I’ve ever had ❤️ I love you and I’ll see you soon

He always read the texts, but he almost never responded. He leaned against one of the door frames and started typing something in the way of a reply. The only problem was that Caliban was only gifted in the way of words when he was lying, and he never wanted to lie to you. Caliban sighed and locked his phone without sending anything. He’d figure out what to say once his stomach was full of pancakes.

Expecting to come downstairs to the low hum of Isobel singing along to music, the smells of cinnamon, sugar, and melted chocolate, and one very messy kitchen, Caliban was surprised when he reached the bottom stair and heard your voice. Everything else was as expected, but you stood out among all the chaos.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly. 

Isobel stopped her humming for a second. “Oh, yeah! That’s perfect, sweetheart.”

The pancake batter sizzled in the pan and Caliban decided to brave the kitchen. It was still as messy as always, but there you stood, clad in a borrowed, sunflowered apron and brandishing a spatula. 

Since you and Isobel were whispering and watching the pancakes rise with your back turned to the entrance, Caliban walked over as quietly as he could and got a better look at the assortment of toppings on the counter. He'd just bitten into one of the strawberries when you turned to grab something off the counter. 

You jumped sky-high and Caliban laughed. “Jesus. How long have you been there?” you asked.

“Long enough.” Caliban tried to sound nonchalant, which was difficult to do with all his curiosity. His cool facade was also ruined by Isobel rushing around the island to hug him and kiss his cheeks. 

Isobel settled slightly after sitting Caliban down on one of the stools and promising to be right back with his present. 

With your new-found solitude, Caliban turned to with an amused smile. “When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant quite so soon,” he said. He reached for another strawberry. 

You were happy to have caught him off-guard. “That’s kind of the point of a surprise.” You turned back to the stove to keep the pancake from burning but looked over your shoulder to add, “I mean, I can leave if it’s a problem?”

“You would deprive me of your company on my birthday?” 

You set a plate in front of Caliban that had a single, oddly shaped chocolate-chip pancake. “I'd never dream of it, Abercrombie.” You took a step back, pulled out a knife and fork, and set it in front of him. “Tell me how it tastes?” 

Caliban cut a piece and held his fork out to you. 

“No way. That’s your birthday pancake.” 

“You would really make me beg on my birthday?” 

“You can’t play that card the whole day-” 

“Yes, I can. Because it’s my-” 

“Don’t say it-”

The word was on the tip of his tongue, but Caliban didn’t get the chance to play his birthday card another time because Isobel rushed back into the room holding a wrapped present and grinning wildly. 

Isobel set the present down on the stool next to Caliban and tapped the top. “I know you don’t like opening them in front of anyone, but I couldn’t wait.” She tapped the gift again before reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Happy birthday, my love.” 

“Thanks, Mom,” Caliban said in a low voice. Isobel gave him the sad smile she always did on his birthday and he gave her the matching smile he always did. 

Your voice broke both of them out of their birthday stupor. “Well, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late.” You untied the knot behind your back as you spoke before lifting the apron over your head. “I just wanted to stop by to steal a few legendary birthday pancakes and drop off the scavenger hunt stuff.” 

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” Caliban asked, sounding as saintly as he could. 

Isobel laughed. “Your brilliant girlfriend figured out how to give you a special birthday while letting you spend the whole day by yourself.” She wrapped an arm around Caliban’s shoulders and looked over at you. “There are clues and activities all over town and you can only come back once you’ve finished them all.” 

As intriguing as a day spent on his own seemed, Caliban couldn’t help but feel like there was a catch coming. “And what about my daily need for education?” 

“I thought you were a fan of more alternate education,” you teased. You leaned over and ate another bite of pancake. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft in your old age.” 

Caliban gave a short laugh. “I said no such thing.” 

You smiled. “Your mom promised to give you the first clue after your first pancake stack. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

Caliban nodded, suddenly unsure of how to respond. He was bad at receiving gifts at the best of times, and this gift was personal and bestowed upon him in front of his mother. It was an awkward set of circumstances. “Thank you,” he said softly as he hugged you goodbye. 

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek and disappeared out of the kitchen after waving goodbye to Isobel. 

Once you were gone and Caliban was left with the familiar sounds and smells of the morning of his birthday, he began to think that maybe his opinion on birthdays needed a bit of changing. 

--- 

Though he’d only participated in a few scavenger hunts, Caliban was competitive and he was relentless. He tore through clue after clue in the same ravenous fashion that a pack of wolves would their next meal, though he tried to savor it as best his hunger would allow. Every handwritten clue was kept, every souvenir pocketed, and every moment memorized. He didn’t want to waste the most thoughtful gift he’d ever been given just because he was an impatient bastard. 

But, as he stared at his suspiciously dark house, he wondered if he should have taken it a bit slower. The last clue had hinted at something waiting for him at the house, and his desire to finish the scavenger hunt waged war on his hatred of birthday parties. He was just about to put the car in reverse and dart into the street when your head popped around a curtain. You ducked inside at such a speed when your eyes met his that Caliban laughed at the mental image of you crashing into a lamp and trying to play it off. 

In the end, neither his desire nor hatred lured him into the depths of his birthday party. His bizarre inclination to do anything and everything you wanted drew him in.

So, Caliban showed up at his party. He wore a party hat, played nice with the other kids, and blew out the candles on his cake. All in all, it should have been the perfect end to his perfect day. But even with all your careful planning, there was no accounting for the bullshit hole in Caliban’s chest that always left him feeling empty. 

When the hole in his chest got too big, Caliban sneaked up the stairs, ducked into his room, and slipped out the window. He wasn’t running away - though the thought did cross his mind - but he just needed some fresh air. Harvey’s laughter mingled with that of his other friends and the laugh tracks of bad movies, drifting through the open window to the warmth of the April night. Still, there wasn’t enough fresh air in the world to fix him. 

“Hey!” 

Caliban twisted around to see you popping your head out of his bedroom window. You had a silly grin on your face and your hair was falling all over your face. The hole in Caliban’s chest got a little smaller. Your smile softened as you tilted your head to mirror his. 

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” 

“Aren’t you worried about missing the party?” Caliban asked. 

You shrugged. “Roz and Theo ate all the good snacks so it’s pretty lame anyway.” Caliban laughed and you flashed him another smile. “Come on, Abercrombie, you really gonna make me climb on the roof to come get you?”

Caliban let out a long whistle and adjusted to get a better look at you. “I’d like to see you try, but careful - it’s slippery out here.” 

“Stop being an asshole and let’s get out of here before someone notices we’re gone.” 

Grinning, Caliban rolled over and held a hand out to you. There was no need to be so secretive, really, but sneaking down his mother’s carefully cultivated trellis was half the fun. Caliban squashed some hydrangeas on the way down, you tumbled into him after getting your foot stuck, and the two of you were left breathless for a moment before rushing to the car so no one would discover your attempted prison break.

Giddy as you turned onto the freeway, the two of you laughed with the windows down and music blaring. Caliban didn’t think his birthday could get any better than it already was, but that moment with you was his favorite part. Or at least, it was until you started complaining about wasting away and you pulled into a diner for something to eat - then he found a new favorite moment. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“You know what.” You tilted your head. “Is this because of the fry thing? I’m telling you, if you just try it then you’ll like it.”

Caliban laughed and shook his head at ‘the fry thing,’ also known as your insistence to dip your fries in whatever milkshake you had on the day. “I’m not trying it.”

“You’re a coward.”

“You can’t say that to me. It’s my birthday.” 

“You hate birthdays.” 

“Still.” 

Rolling your eyes, you pushed the plate of fries over to him. “Try it once, okay? And you’ll see it’s the perfect combination of salty and sweet, hot and cold, yummy and delicious.” 

Caliban couldn’t help it. He’d been putting it off for almost a year now, and it just didn’t feel right to say no to you after everything you’d done for him today. Plus, you were cute when you got your way. So, he reached out and dipped a fry in the milkshake. 

Annoyingly, it was everything you’d said and more. Despite the sugary, fried high he was bound to be on in a few minutes, Caliban knew the best part of this whole endeavor would be to see your sickeningly smug face when he admitted defeat. 

You’d turned him into a cheesy cliche. He was disgustingly romantic, he carried your books between classes, and had your coffee order memorized. Because you were the sweet to his salty, the brave to his reckless, the Fitch to his Abercrombie. 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[northernindigenousbeautyhailey]

TAMRA JEWEL KEEPNESS.

FEW CHILDREN IN CANADA JUST VANISH. Fewer still stay gone for longer than a couple of days. Some are found alive, others are hurt or killed, but rarely does a child simply disappear. The RCMP’s National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains database lists 147 missing children, in a country of more than 35 million people. Of the sixty children under the age of twelve, a quarter are thought to have been abducted by their parents. A large portion of the others were lost to apparent accidents or misadventure, falling through ice or swept away in the pull of wild rivers, their bodies never recovered. The database shows twenty-four children in the past sixty years who have inexplicably disappeared. Because there are so few, we know them. In Edmonton, there is Tania Murrell, six when she vanished while walking home from school for lunch in January 1983. In Toronto, Nicole Morin, eight when she disappeared from a condominium building in July 1985. Michael Dunahee was four years old when he went missing from a playground in Victoria in 1991. In Regina, there is only Tamra Keepness.

THE LAST TIME anyone saw Tamra, she was five years old, with bobbed black hair and soft, round cheeks. In one picture, she wears a T-shirt dotted with flowers, standing against the colourful collage of a classroom wall. Her smile is broad and open, her eyes lively. She was so smart that her mother called her “my little Einstein,” so feisty that when a little boy pushed her once, Tamra shoved him right back, and harder. She liked playing Mario Kart on Nintendo and climbing her favourite tree, down the block from her house.

July 6, 2004, was the first time Sergeant Ron Weir would hear Tamra’s name. He was getting ready to leave on vacation that day when he got an urgent call back to the police station. Weir was a veteran cop with the Regina Police Service and head of emergency services, which included search and rescue. In a meeting, officers from the major crimes unit laid out what they knew: sometime between the night of Monday, July 5, and the morning of Tuesday, July 6, a five-year-old girl had gone missing from her home in central Regina.

Weir had been a police officer for twenty years. He knew that kids often went missing and turned up safe a short time later. Sixty-five percent of missing children and teens are located within the first day, and almost 90 percent within the first week. But Weir also knew that Tamra was too young to get far as a runaway. Patrol officers had already checked the neighbourhood to make sure Tamra hadn’t wandered away or ended up at the house of a playmate or relative, as was often the case with missing children. They’d found nothing. Even in the early hours of the investigation, Weir suspected this case would be different.

TAMRA LIVED with her mother, stepfather, and five siblings at 1834 Ottawa Street, a shabby brown-and-white two-storey with a windowed porch at the front. The house stood between 11th and 12th avenues, just east of downtown Regina. The neighbourhood was a mix of long-time elderly residents, young families drawn by low prices for heritage houses, and ramshackle homes where residents struggled with poverty and addiction. The area was sometimes known as the “low stroll,” a place where women and girls sold their bodies for drugs or booze and men drove around looking to buy them, circling the neighbourhood in trucks and station wagons. Many of the women and girls who lived or worked in the area were First Nations, like Tamra. Long before calls for a federal inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women would dominate the political conversation, women were going missing from those streets. It was from that same area that nineteen-year-old Annette Kelly Peigan disappeared in 1983, followed by eighteen-year-old Patsy Favel in 1984 and Joyce Tillotson in 1993. Two years later, two young white men picked up a woman named Pamela George, sexually assaulted her, and beat her to death.

The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user posted to the website a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.”

Tamra’s house was less than a block from the Oskana Centre, a halfway house for federal parolees, and not far from the Salvation Army’s Waterston House, a residence and shelter inhabited by former inmates and men struggling with drugs, alcohol, and psychiatric issues. Residents of both facilities had been responsible for serious attacks in the past. Just four months earlier, convicted violent sex offender Randy Burgmann had lured a woman into his room at Waterston House with alcohol, before violently sexually assaulting her and leaving her beside a dumpster to die. The Oskana Centre had previously been home to both serial rapist Larry Deckert and Billy John Francis Whitedeer, who began committing violent sexual offences on children when he was ten years old. A few blocks farther was the Ehrle Hotel, one of the worst bars in town, from which patrons spilled soggy and staggering onto the sidewalk, and which appeared regularly in police reports and court testimony.

Police also had serious questions about what was happening at 1834 Ottawa Street. There was a broken window and blood spatter in the porch. Social Services had been involved with the family since not long after the oldest child was born in 1993, and there had been more than fifty reports made to crisis workers, most often about Tamra’s mother’s use of alcohol and drugs, and neglect of the children. Her mother’s boyfriend had a history of violence and domestic assault. In most cases, investigators knew, children are hurt by people closest to them.

POLICE STARTED with a thorough search of the area immediately around the home, then cast their efforts outward in an expanding grid. As the sun rose on the morning of July 7, 2004, the search effort intensified. First, there were ten officers, then twenty, then more. Some officers accompanied trained volunteer search teams; others questioned family members and potential witnesses, going door-to-door gathering leads or chasing down tips. The RCMP training academy provided cadets, and members of the public soon began arriving on their own to help.

Police set up a command-centre bus in the parking lot of a nearby church, from which Weir co-ordinated the search. Though it was an urban environment, the terrain posed serious challenges. The area was filled with overgrown yards, empty houses, piles of garbage. Tamra weighed forty pounds, and stood three foot five. There were so many places a child could hide or get trapped or be held, where a child’s body could be concealed or dumped. Searchers in orange vests worked in grids, knocking on doors, inspecting junked cars and crumbling garages, peering under discarded mattresses and piles of wood, looking down manholes. Police stopped garbage pickups, checking all the bins in the neighbourhood, the trash putrid and reeking in the summer heat. Some bins had already been emptied, so plans were made to search the dump as well.

And what if she had been taken farther? Not far away were industrial areas, large abandoned lots and buildings, Wascana Creek, and beyond that, the vast Prairie. With a thirteen-hour head start, someone in a vehicle could have had Tamra in Vancouver before she was reported missing.

When they were not speaking to police, members of Tamra’s family waited anxiously on the fringes, watching the searchers, eyeing the growing assembly of reporters and news crews holding out microphones and pointing camera lenses. “It’s not like her to go off by herself,” said Tamra’s father, Troy Keepness, sitting on the front steps of his ex-wife’s house, his voice tight with worry. “We’re trying to do our best to get her back.”

Weir worked in the command-centre bus, surrounded by maps and whiteboards. A scribe logged every aspect of the search in real time, recording ideas and progress. No one wanted to break, not for food or rest. Everyone knew the situation grew more serious with every passing hour. As the heat of the day gave way to evening, Weir stood outside and looked up. A strong wind had come in, and storm clouds were spreading, darkening the Prairie sky.

The next day, police strung crime-scene tape around Tamra’s house and the one next door, drawing it through the back alley and across six garages, long slashes of yellow dividing the street. Officers guarded the perimeter while forensic investigators went in and out of the house in boots and masks. “While we don’t have any direct evidence that Tamra has come to any harm, we also don’t know where she is,” police spokeswoman Elizabeth Popowich told reporters. “And if, in fact, this comes to a point where we determine that she’s come to some harm and it’s because of a criminal act, this location could potentially be the scene of some evidence.”

THERE WERE three adults in the house that evening: the children’s mother, Lorena Keepness; her boyfriend, Dean McArthur; and a family friend named Russell Sheepskin, who had been staying with the family. All three had come and gone during the night, and investigators were starting to question their movements. There were no signs of forced entry to the house, and there were gaps, inconsistencies in their timelines that didn’t make sense to investigators.

The story the three told publicly, compiled from various interviews, was that Lorena and McArthur got into an argument while watching a movie on Monday evening, and McArthur and Sheepskin left the house around 8:30 p.m. to go drinking. The men returned briefly to drop off a bottle of formula for the baby, then left again. Lorena went out around 11 p.m, kissing Tamra goodbye before she went. The oldest child in the house was ten-year-old Summer, the youngest was Lorena and McArthur’s nine-month-old baby. Lorena returned briefly to check on the children and then left again around midnight. At about 3 a.m., Sheepskin returned home drunk and saw Tamra sleeping on the couch. Not long after, McArthur got back to the house and assaulted Sheepskin on the porch, punching him through a window and then stomping on his head. (Both men later said the fight had nothing to do with Tamra.) Sheepskin walked alone to the hospital to get stitches, and McArthur went to stay at his aunt’s house a few blocks away. Though it should have been a short walk, he said he got lost and kept passing out as he walked there. He didn’t arrive for at least two hours, until 5 or 5:30 a.m. Meanwhile, Lorena got home around 3:15 or 3:30 a.m., climbed in through a window, and passed out on the couch. She said that she got up to undo the latch on the door for her mother around 8 or 9 a.m. and that the two eldest children, Summer and Rayne, left on their own in the morning to attend a summer day-camp. Lorena didn’t realize Tamra wasn’t there until about three hours later, when the five-year-old didn’t come downstairs. At 12:16 p.m., a family member called the police and told them Tamra was missing.

Rayne, who was eight, said he had gone to bed squeezed into the space between the wall and mattresses piled on the floor in an upstairs bedroom. He told his mother he felt Tamra get up at some point, the slight movement of a child’s weight. All he could remember was that it was light outside.

FRIDAY WAS hot again and wet from the previous night’s rain. An odour of decay hung in the air around Ottawa Street. Tamra had been gone three full days and become national news. Her picture seemed to be everywhere, hanging on street poles and store windows. In news stories, she became “missing five-year-old Tamra Keepness,” but more often she was just Tamra, as if we knew her. The front page of the Regina Leader-Post spoke directly to her, asking, “Tamra, Where Did You Go?”

Tips flooded in to police. On the street, there were rumours that Tamra had been seen at a dollar store with an older woman. Business owners in the neighbourhood said detectives had been looking for a middle-aged white man named Roch or Rocky, but police wouldn’t confirm whether that was related to the search. Lorena and McArthur said they gave police the names of five people they thought could be suspects, including a man who had befriended Tamra and later been discovered to be a pedophile. For a while, there was even a theory that Tamra had never existed at all, that she had been a scam to get extra money from Social Services. (Hospital records proved that was not the case.)

Searchers were coming from around the province to volunteer, streaming into the city from towns and First Nations communities, motivated by the faces of their own children or grandchildren to help in whatever way they could. “I’ve got a boy, and he’s twenty-one,” said Jerry Scott, one of the volunteers who joined the search. “And if he left, I’d go nuts, too.” Around the city, people organized vigils and barbecues, brought water and snacks for the searchers, wrapped ribbons around trees to show their support. Some left teddy bears and angels on the steps of Tamra’s house. Days of intensive searches had turned up lots of items that seemed as though they could be connected—clothing, a child’s shoe—but none of it belonged to Tamra. “I’m starting to go on different conclusions, like maybe someone took her, I don’t know,” Troy Keepness said. “I just hope nobody would hurt my daughter.”

WHEN Tamra had been gone a week, police announced they were suspending the ground searches. At a press conference, Regina police chief Cal Johnston announced a $25,000 reward for information and vowed, “We will find Tamra.” Police questioned sex offenders living in the area and obtained surveillance tapes from convenience stores, bars, gas stations, and the Greyhound bus depot nearby. Johnston confirmed that “criminal interference with Tamra is a distinct possibility” and drew attention back to Tamra’s house and family. “There were comings and goings from the house that night that remain not fully explained to our satisfaction, and we continue to ask those questions,” he told reporters. He would not elaborate.

Tamra’s family was growing increasingly angry at the police, and the strain of the situation was starting to show. Lorena told reporters she’d signed consent forms for police to search her house and had given her DNA, but still she felt as if they were focusing too much on her family and not enough on trying to find Tamra. She was angry that police hadn’t closed the highways out of the city and that there was no Amber Alert because police said it didn’t meet the criteria. “I’m fed up,” she told reporters. “They are wasting time. This is my little girl we’re talking about.”

The family was growing frustrated with the media, too. Lorena’s mother yelled obscenities at reporters one day, and on another, members of the family nearly came to blows with a TV reporter doing a live update from the front lawn. They had been watching the news inside the house when they heard the reporter imply what many in the city were already wondering: If not someone in that house, then who?

On July 19, two weeks after Tamra had been reported missing, police charged McArthur with assaulting Sheepskin the night Tamra disappeared. McArthur told reporters he had been interrogated for twenty hours, not about the assault, but about Tamra and about what had gone on inside the house that night. “It was always the same questions, and they were assuming that I knew the answers to those questions, but I didn’t know the answers, and I still don’t know the answers,” he said. “I would never hurt a hair on that little girl’s head.”

Two days later, Tamra’s brothers and sisters were removed from the home by child-protection officers. Tamra’s twin sister wore messy pigtails and clutched a colouring book and a yellow blanket as two women led the children away down the front steps of the house. Neither government officials nor police would say whether the children’s seizure was related to Tamra’s disappearance. When the children were gone, police searched the house again.

One night late that summer, Tamra’s father, Troy, showed up at the house with a baseball bat and confronted her stepfather, McArthur. Troy was charged with assault, though McArthur later said police “got things misunderstood.” “Everybody’s looking for answers,” he said. “We more or less talked.”

LORENA KEEPNESS was fourteen years old when she ran away from her home on the White Bear First Nation, 200 kilometres southeast of Regina. She had been in residential school for about three months, but that wasn’t what did it. For her, it was the same ugly stuff at home. She found her way to Regina. When her mom tried to take her home, Lorena wouldn’t go. She lived on the streets instead.

She had her daughter Summer Wind when she was twenty, her son Rayne Dance not long after. It was after the ultrasound for her third baby that she walked home in a daze and told her husband, Troy, “We’re having twins.” She kept repeating it until it sunk in, and then they just stood together in the kitchen and laughed. Her mother said “Way to go!” but Lorena told her, “They came from God. Not like I planted those in me.”

The babies were born on September 1, 1998. Fraternal twin girls, each weighing more than six pounds, carried almost right to term and curved around one another like pieces of a puzzle. Lorena and Troy split up when the twins were little, and after that, the girls stayed sometimes with their mother, sometimes with their father or with other relatives. Lorena and Troy each struggled with substance abuse, and their lives were sometimes too troubled and unstable to have the children with them. At five, Tamra was bold and courageous, and protective of her twin sister. Once, Lorena heard a soft knock in the middle of the night and opened the door to find the twins standing there. The children had left their father’s house and walked four blocks back to Lorena’s in the middle of the night, Tamra leading her sister by the hand as they found their way through the dark. REGINA POLICE received more than a thousand tips in the first six weeks after Tamra’s disappearance. At one point, a Volkswagen van that had been stolen the night Tamra disappeared was found burned outside the city. A jail guard told police she and a former inmate had stolen it, picked up Tamra, and then dumped the child’s body in a ravine on the Muscowpetung First Nation. Ron Weir led a week-long search on Muscowpetung, draining multiple beaver dams with compressor pumps, while searchers slogged through water up to their hips. The jail guard later confessed she had made up the story. She was charged with mischief and wrote a letter apologizing to the police. In court, her lawyer said she had been trying to get her abusive boyfriend locked up again.

Returning from medical leave to the police department in the fall of 2004, superintendent Troy Hagen could feel how Tamra’s disappearance was weighing on his colleagues. Hagen noticed it in everyone he spoke to, from the police chief down, whether they were involved with the case or not. Sergeant Rod Buckingham, one of the lead investigators, was among those who felt the growing frustration. “It’s a mystery,” he would say. “And I don’t like mysteries.”

Officers had spoken with more than 6,000 people by then, but there had been no arrests, and leads were drying up. Shortly after, a special task force was struck to re-examine the case, to see whether anything had been missed. The name of the project was iskwesis ayishowak e mamayahi, a Cree term meaning “little girl bring people together.”

TWELVE YEARS LATER, Lorena Keepness spends her days doing odd jobs and picking bottles, trading them in at the depot for cash. She is forty-three and lives with her eldest son in a rundown shack of a house on Victoria Avenue, a fifteen-minute walk from Ottawa Street. Lorena’s children were never permanently returned to her custody after the disappearance, and the three babies she had after that were all taken by Social Services, too. Tamra’s twin sister is seventeen now. Lorena says she is an athlete, smart and beautiful. Lorena lost her family pictures when someone threw all her stuff in the garbage a few years ago. The only photos she has of Tamra now are the ones on missing-child posters.

Tamra’s twin and her older sister, Summer, don’t want to be interviewed. Neither does Tamra’s father, Troy. McArthur couldn’t be reached. Lorena needs a six-pack of Black Ice beer to talk. She doesn’t really want to be interviewed either. She has never liked reporters or their questions, and it hurts to talk about that time. “But part of me wants to,” she says, as her face crumples. “Part of me needs to share what the fuck happened. Someone stole my child.”

Lorena has heard many theories about what happened to her daughter. Some believe Tamra wandered away and was abducted by a driver cruising the area or that she got lost, then crawled in somewhere so small she has never been found. Other theories focus on the adults in the house that night. Some officers will say off-the-record that they think Tamra is in the dump but that they just couldn’t find her in the mountains of debris. Many in the city believe that Lorena and McArthur sold or traded Tamra to pay off a cocaine debt. Lorena has heard that one the most. One night, she was at a bar and heard some women talking, loud enough so she could hear. “Yeah, she sold her kid for dope. She has a whole bunch of babies. She has kids just to sell them for drugs.” Her friend told her not to listen, but Lorena couldn’t ignore it. She swore at the women, promised she would get them for even thinking she could do that to her child. They met at the same bar again the next day, and that time they fought, a tangle of hair and fists. One of them had a knife and slashed her twice on the back of her arm. More scars to wear for life. It wasn’t the only time. One night, she was attacked in Moose Jaw. Not long ago, a woman shouted “Baby killer!” at her across the street.

Lorena and Dean McArthur are still together, on and off—“more on than off,” she says. Police tried hard to turn them against each other, but she always believed him in the end. He may be all kinds of things, she says, but he’s not a baby killer. “If I thought he did something to my daughter, I would have killed him myself,” she says. “I think the police were just so sure. They figured, ‘These guys are a bunch of nobodies. She did her own child.’ They already had their conclusions drawn before they even tried to look for anything.”

The suggestion she could have had something to do with her daughter’s disappearance still pushes Lorena to the point of violence. You can see her eyes flash, her muscles tighten at the question. But she holds back— it’s not worth going to jail. She’s had enough of the police, has grown used to the accusations. In the past twelve years, she’s repeated her story publicly many times, and it has never really changed.

REGINA POLICE have never released full details about the investigation into Tamra’s disappearance, on the grounds that it remains an open case that they still hope to solve. In an interview, Troy Hagen, now Regina’s police chief, would not speak about any working theories or confirm any specifics of the investigation, including whether one of the people questioned about Tamra’s disappearance had failed a polygraph test. Instead, Hagen echoed what police have said since the beginning: That there remain important unanswered questions about the comings and goings from the house on Ottawa Street that night. That they will continue to investigate every tip. That they won’t stop looking for Tamra until they find her. He pointed to cases in the United States where children have been gone for years, sometimes decades, and then been found alive. In Canada, twelve-year-old Abby Drover was held in an underground bunker in Port Moody, British Columbia, for six months after being abducted by her neighbour in 1976. There was an intensive search of her community—including by her abductor—but she had been only feet away from her house the entire time. She was found alive. It seems impossible, but it happens. “I refuse to lose hope,” Hagen says.

The years since Tamra’s disappearance have exposed the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada. Suspected serial killers are facing charges in the Prairies, but there has been no public indication that Tamra’s disappearance may be connected to any of those cases. Hagen said police have also explored a possible connection with thirteen-year-old Courtney Struble, who disappeared from Estevan, a city 200 kilometres from Regina, four days after Tamra was last seen. Investigators initially believed that Struble was a runaway, and she had been gone for seven years before RCMP announced that her case had become a homicide investigation. No one has ever been charged, and her remains have never been located. Hagen says it’s strange to have two unsolved missing-children cases linked so closely in time and geographic proximity. He says the possibility of a connection was “very much” explored by police, but there doesn’t appear to be a correlation. The police investigation into Tamra’s disappearance is one of the largest and costliest in Regina’s history, but Hagen says it has never been about the money. If there were more leads or work for investigators, the police chief says he would reconvene the task force “in a heartbeat.” But the flood of tips has slowed. The reward for information that leads to finding her, now $50,000, sits unclaimed. The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user with the name MySecretIsOut posted a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.” The person later wrote that the map belonged to their grandmother and had come from a great-aunt who had visited an inmate in Alberta. “We, like many others, haven’t forgotten about you, Tamra, and continue to search and hope you are found,” the person posted. Police searched twenty-one wells around Muscowpetung but found nothing.

Sheepskin died on January 1, 2009, “with his family by his side,” according to his obituary. Many of the police officers who worked on Tamra’s case have retired or moved from the department to other jobs. Hagen says he thinks of Tamra whenever he is walking through the forest, not looking for her but always half expecting to see her there. Sometimes he looks at people he passes on the street, examining their faces and imagining what Tamra might look like now.

THROUGH THE YEARS, Lorena has developed her own theories about what happened to her daughter. These days, she mainly wonders about a drifter who used to stay with them, a woman Lorena knew from when she was a girl. A woman who sometimes told people she was pregnant even though she wasn’t, who Lorena knew by one name but whose medical documents said something else. The woman was around so much that Lorena’s children called her Big Auntie. Big Auntie had been staying at the house before Tamra disappeared, but left after she and Lorena had a falling out. Lorena says it took a long time to realize Big Auntie wasn’t coming around any more. When she did, she put word out on the streets, but no one there had seen her either. Big Auntie didn’t even show up for her own sister’s funeral in Regina a few years back. Lorena says she told the police about Big Auntie many times, but doesn’t know whether they ever found her, or whether they even looked. “She’s just gone now,” Lorena says. “Same time as my child.” Maybe it’s something. Or maybe Big Auntie is missing, too.

When I ask Lorena whether she thinks Tamra will ever be found, she struggles for an answer. “I don’t know,” she says. “But can I tell you about a dream I had?” There are two, both so vivid it’s as if they were real. In one, Tamra is inside a big house in a city Lorena has never seen. There are silk clothes draped around, and broad windows, and Tamra is upstairs, sitting on the edge of a bathtub putting on stockings. She is grown, with dark, shiny hair like her mother’s but cut straight all around. In the other dream, Tamra is still a little girl, running into her mother’s arms. “There you are!” Lorena says. “There you are!” She picks up her child and holds her, until Tamra wriggles free and is lost again.

[thesquireofcheddar]

To exalt, enthrone, establish and defend, To welcome home mankind's mysterious friend Wine, true begetter of all arts that be; Wine, privilege of the completely free; Wine the recorder; wine the sagely strong; Wine, bright avenger of sly-dealing wrong, Awake, Ausonian Muse, and sing the vineyard song!

Sing how the Charioteer from Asia came, And on his front the little dancing flame Which marked the God-head. Sing the Panther-team, The gilded Thrysus twirling, and the gleam Of cymbals through the darkness. Sing the drums. He comes; the young renewer of Hellas comes! The Seas await him. Those Aegean Seas Roll from the dawning, ponderous, ill at ease, In lifts of lead, whose cresting hardly breaks To ghostly foam, when suddenly there awakes A mountain glory inland. All the skies Are luminous; and amid the sea bird cries The mariner hears a morning breeze arise. Then goes the Pageant forward. The sea-way Silvers the feet of that august array Trailing above the waters, through the airs; And as they pass a wind before them bears The quickening word, the influence magical. The Islands have received it, marble-tall; The long shores of the mainland. Something fills The warm Euboean combes, the sacred hills Of Aulis and of Argos. Still they move Touching the City walls, the Temple grove, Till, far upon the horizon-glint, a gleam Of light, of trembling light, revealed they seem Turned to a cloud, but to a cloud that shines, And everywhere as they pass, the Vines! The Vines! The Vines, the conquering Vines! And the Vine breaths Her savour through the upland, empty heaths Of treeless wastes; the Vines have come to where The dark Pelasgian steep defends the lair Of the wolf's hiding; to the empty fields By Aufidus, the dry campaign that yields No harvest for the husbandman, but now Shall bear a nobler foison than the plough; To where, festooned along the tall elm trees, Tendrils are mirrored in Tyrrhenian seas; To where the South awaits them; even to where Stark, African informed of burning air, Upturned to Heaven the broad Hipponian plain Extends luxurious and invites the main. Guelma's a mother: barren Thaspsa breeds; And northward in the valleys, next the meads That sleep by misty river banks, the Vines Have struck to spread below the solemn pines. The Vines are on the roof-trees. All the Shrines And Homes of men are consecrate with Vines.

And now the task of that triumphant day Has reached to victory. In the reddening ray With all his train, from hard Iberian lands Fulfilled, apparent, that Creator stands Halted on Atlas. Far Beneath him, far, The strength of Ocean darkening and the star Beyond all shores. There is a silence made. It glorifies: and the gigantic shade Of Hercules adores him from the West. Dead Lucre: burnt Ambition: Wine is best.

But what are these that from the outer murk Of dense mephitic vapours creeping lurk To breathe foul airs from that corrupted well Which oozes slime along the floor of Hell? These are the stricken palsied brood of sin In whose vile veins, poor, poisonous and thin, Decoctions of embittered hatreds crawl: These are the Water-Drinkers, cursed all! On what gin-sodden Hags, what flaccid sires Bred these White Slugs from what exhaust desires? In what close prison's horror were their wiles Watched by what tyrant power with evil smiles; Or in what caverns, blocked from grace and air Received they, then, the mandates of despair? What! Must our race, our tragic race, that roam All exiled from our first, and final, home: That in one moment of temptation lost Our heritage, and now wander, hunger-tost Beyond the Gates (still speaking with our eyes For ever of remembered Paradise), Must we with every gift accepted, still, With every joy, receive attendant ill? Must some lewd evil follow all our good And muttering dog our brief beatitude?

A primal doom, inexorable, wise, Permitted, ordered, even these to rise. Even in the shadow of so bright a Lord Must swarm and propagate the filthy horde Debased, accursed I say, abhorrent and abhorred. Accursed and curse-bestowing. For whosoe'er Shall suffer their contagion, everywhere Falls from the estate of man and finds his end To the mere beverage of the beast condemned. For such as these in vain the Rhine has rolled Imperial centuries by hills of gold; For such as these the flashing Rhone shall rage In vain its lightning through the Hermitage Or level-browed divine Touraine receive The tribute of her vintages at eve. For such as these Burgundian heats in vain Swell the rich slope or load the empurpled plain. Bootless for such as these the mighty task Of bottling God the Father in a flask And leading all Creation down distilled To one small ardent sphere immensely filled. With memories empty, with experience null, With vapid eye-balls meaningless and dull They pass unblest through the unfruitful light; And when we open the bronze doors of Night, When we in high carousal, we reclined, Spur up to Heaven the still ascending mind, Pass with the all inspiring, to and fro, The torch of genius and the Muse's glow, They, lifeless, stare at vacancy alone Or plan mean traffic, or repeat their moan. We, when repose demands us, welcomed are In young white arms, like our great Exemplar Who, wearied with creation, takes his rest And sinks to sleep on Ariadne's breast. They through the darkness into darkness press Despised, abandoned and companionless. And when the course of either's sleep has run We leap to life like heralds of the sun; We from the couch in roseate mornings gay Salute as equals the exultant day While they, the unworthy, unrewarded, they The dank despisers of the Vine, arise To watch grey dawns and mourn indifferent skies.

Forget them! Form the Dionysian ring And pulse the ground, and Io, Io, sing.

Father Lenaean, to whom our strength belongs, Our loves, our wars, our laughter and our songs, Remember our inheritance, who praise Your glory in these last unhappy days When beauty sickens and a muddied robe Of baseness fouls the universal globe. Though all the Gods indignant and their train Abandon ruined man, do thou remain! By thee the vesture of our life was made, The Embattled Gate, the lordly Colonnade, The woven fabric's gracious hues, the sound Of trumpets, and the quivering fountain-round, And, indestructible, the Arch, and, high, The Shaft of Stone that stands against the sky, And, last, the guardian-genius of them, Rhyme, Come from beyond the world to conquer time: All these are thine, Lenaean.

By thee do seers the inward light discern; By thee the statue lives, the Gods return; By thee the thunder and the falling foam Of loud Acquoria's torrent call to Rome; Alba rejoices in a thousand springs, Gensano laughs, and Orvieto sings... But, Ah! With Orvieto, with that name Of dark, Eturian, subterranean flame The years dissolve. I am standing in that hour Of majesty Septembral, and the power Which swells the clusters when the nights are still With autumn stars on Orvieto hill.

Had these been mine, Ausonian Muse, to know The large contented oxen heaving slow; To count my sheaves at harvest; so to spend Perfected days in peace until the end; With every evening's dust of gold to hear The bells upon the pasture height, the clear Full horn of herdsmen gathering in the kine To ancient byres in hamlets Appenine, And crown abundant age with generous ease: Had these, Ausonian Muse, had these, had these.....

But since I would not, since I could not stay, Let me remember even in this my day How, when the ephemeral vision's lure is past All, all, must face their Passion at the last

Was there not one that did to Heaven complain How, driving through the midnight and the rain, He struck, the Atlantic seethe and surge before, Wrecked in the North along a lonely shore To make the lights of home and hear his name no more. Was there not one that from a desperate field Rode with no guerdon but a rifted shield; A name disherited; a broken sword; Wounds unrenowned; battle beneath no Lord; Strong blows, but on the void, and toil without reward.

When from the waste of such long labour done I too must leave the grape-ennobling sun And like the vineyard worker take my way Down the long shadows of declining day, Bend on the sombre plain my clouded sight And leave the mountain to the advancing night, Come to the term of all that was mine own With nothingness before me, and alone; Then to what hope of answer shall I turn? Comrade-Commander whom I dared not earn, What said You then to trembling friends and few? "A moment, and I drink it with you new: But in my Father's Kingdom." So, my Friend, Let not Your cup desert me in the end. But when the hour of mine adventure's near Just and benignant, let my youth appear Bearing a Chalice, open, golden, wide, With benediction graven on its side. So touch my dying lip: so bridge that deep: So pledge my waking from the gift of sleep, And, sacramental, raise me the Divine: Strong brother in God and last companion, Wine. Hilaire Belloc

[creativegago]

Card Palace (Discontinued Themed Prose Collection)

Deleted wattpad post under the pseudonym: goldiiblox

Date of First Revision: February 8, 2018

Date of Last Revision: February 18, 2018

Language: English

🦋 angela's note: I absolutely loved writing this back then, but I had no clear plot in mind. I might continue this in the future one way or another.

Synopsis:

tampered feelings, endless nightmares, youth running. did the devil leave a trace? it did, and it's a ruin.

The Cards

---each carry their own mystery. thus, the palace still a broken family.---

The Guests: Deuce Hearts; Six Spades; Nine Spades

The Children: Ace Spade; Queen of Clubs

The Odd Child: Ace Spade

Lost Wanderer: 10 Spades

The Monarch: Six Diamonds

The Brothers: King of Diamonds; King of Hearts

The Mothers: Queen of Diamonds; Queen of Hearts

The Odd One: Queen of Clubs

Discord: Nine Spades--

Males: Spades; Diamonds

Sexes:

Females: Hearts; Clubs;

a mini note left: “hello, and i dont know what the fuck this is.”

Deuce Hearts: She is part of the symbolic youth. Marking this day, she wanders the forest of addiction, she thought it's a good teacher. But it's the palace of disaster.

Six and Nine Spades:

They are siblings running away. They escaped from a hotel hallway, sneaked through cemetery gateways and are invisible after day. They are haunting, for they are looking for their restless lust.

Ace Spade:

To be a flower or the hummingbird? Honeyed voice, an inner fire waiting to grow. Never left the palace, for a reason of hiraeth, somewhere unknown. He is an odd child, a delicate toy.

Queen of Clubs:

She looks for love. The only one in the family who feels alive, but is she really?

10 Spades:

He knows nothing about himself. After waking up in this lonely place, his mind erased into a blank space. They hoped for him to come back.

S I X  D I A M O N D S:

Before, he made a great family, a good king who sought serenity. Now, he have lost his pure grace, and the house is out of place.

King of Diamonds:

His laugh may be an angel's, yet he owns a little town of clouds controlling him.

King of Hearts:

He is not a liar. Only their father made him believe he is.

Queen of Diamonds:

Her light as pale as the moon, showing that her care has already faded. Her heart numb up until this day, it's her hidden secret.

Queen of Hearts:

The oldest sister, she takes charge of being the mother.

Nine Spades:

A man whom the family left their sun.

The house is fallen, who will be saved? What decisions are going to be made? The palace is dim and broken, will those guests who arrived would help the family restore it back?

"universal minds, all kinds"

-Lauren Jauregui

"Even in a system that promises the impossible, the impossible cannot exist. What may promise to rebuild a house of cards cannot prevent the inevitable fall."-Anonymous

"Good evening, you have now entered the palace."

Dialogue

-addictions (Guest Spades) ; 1st poem

Location: still missing; morning

Our eyes saw countless naked bodies. We loved the sensation of lips locking into each other, and we are lost when we feel the collision between the two of us. It was a silent night, and our hotel room having dim light. It was just the two of us, but it doesn't matter. We want to stay like this forever.

Hopeless told us that we are fools. Hopeless told us that he could help us. His words were enough to lure our blank minds.

-empty (Deuce Hearts) ; 1st poem

But like we said, we're once again, fooled.  

This is about being lost. This is as inviting as a big castle, but this is a confusing puzzle.

Location: The Chapel near to her orphanage; midday

My life is full. my heart is alive. But what about my time? I know it's running out.

I ran away from home, only finding a forest that led my torch to be running out.  

I miss feeling all those genuine feelings. My heart is alive. I could see, think, smell, taste and hear, yet they're registered into my brain as "empty"

Perhaps, I might meet someone feeling the same. I suppose I would hold on to that kind of hope. Perhaps, I would cross paths with them. The sky is pretty, isn't it?  

-The Bouquet (Six Diamonds) ; 1st poem

What is happening? Why is this family falling?

Location: Throne Room; night

It went from a golden age to this ruined place.

It seems that we are no longer flourishing. I seek help, yet it fills me with humiliation. It began as a mistake, but who knows that mistakes are poisons rapidly infecting the host.

I put my blame on to him, but after realizing the truth, discord is no longer around. He went missing, and my mind tells me to do nothing.

Half a Glass

I told my love through typing this. I'm  exhausted. All the beauty of this bliss. And how limited this affection is.  

--these are deep-seated and intense beliefs that they will never abandon----

----her most majestic gift is also one with deeper curses and it's not her fault, it's the fault of the times she's living in: she loves hard. she finds love in the sky, in the cosmos. she sees hurt people, and still, she knows they deserve love too.

--------they were of two households. each person carrying hearts in dull rainbows.

A String of Drafts

"There you are! I have been searching this town for so long."

"You don't need to. My voice, you'll hear. My face, you'll never witness. Why are you letting the townsmen see a graceless fool?"

"What if they cannot see me either?"

Character Synopsis:

"That would...this is a lie. Forget me, now." 

-----

"To be honest, I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"Would you like to rest?"

"I'd like to. But it doesn't last for a satisfying amount of time."

"Eternal."  

---------

"The family needs their true child. Hoping to continue their ruling, their eyes remain crestfallen."

--------

"How would you call that?"

"The king and queen are waiting. Their hair snow white, their bodies weak and pale. They are waiting for him to come back."

------

"He, as the lost prince is still searching the depths of the world. Sometimes, he weeps by the riverbank. Sometimes, he walks by the park, collecting flowers that he plans to arrange on his funeral."

------

"Up until now, he is going through friendships that he knows the other one would neglect."

---------

"today is fine. still the same, and don't expect it to change."

"if that is what it is. but mother, are we still looking for our escape?"  

---------"Trying to be happy alone."

 "mother, how is it today"

-Q. clubs

--------

"the colors remain whole, still untouched.

someday, make them detached

will you, queen's touch?"

--------

"farewell, house of cards. i'll miss the cups of coffee, and the endless stories

souls fly away, regretting each mistake

the creator has fallen, now everything is in chaos

what is happening? the remains of the house caught the sight of the swans

nemesis have attacked, the house is surrendering in defeat

the children are in danger, where are the guests?

protect the house of cards, keep the household safe and sound.

-------

[rpgexperience]

My servant Devil - Session 2

Lucian and Abigail walk to the town together to get some shopping done. They visit multiple shops, buy dresses, shoes and matching gloves - until then the mark on Abigail’s hand is covered by a ribbon. Along the way back, Abigail is addressed by a young stranger. 

"Abby? Is that really you?“ The voice belongs to a young man, dressed in smart-looking probably expensive suit. He has chestnut coloured hair and brown eyes. He’s only half a head taller than Abigail, who’s very short. The moment Abigail turns around, he hugs her and attempts to spin her around, which is not a good idea because he can't really lift her up and just stumbles backwards and probably would have fallen over. Abigail notices for a flash of a moment Lucian appearing behind him and steadying him before he puts her back down. 

When he places her back down, there are tears shimmering in his eyes: “Oh Abby! I am so glad you are here and alive! I heard the rumours and I thought... well I thought…” 

During a little chat, Abigail finds out that she has been gone for two months, this is the person who stopped by in the morning. She lies about what happened to her parents and the rest of her servants, saying that they’re in America and she just returned early. They agree to meet again later for tea. 

Upon return to the mansion, Abigail visits her father’s large office. Sad, cold and empty. Nonetheless Abigail has respect before it. Remembering moments from her childhood when she runs her fingers over beautifully decorated desk. She finds papers with logos of her father’s company - Maglocke’s finest teas, and a key however no keyhole for it. She decides to keep it. After exploring the office, which is now hers, it’s time to have tea with Oliver Whitlocke. 

Abigail meets him in the tea room of the mansion. Oliver is impressed by her new dress, Lucian’s cooking abilities and… does he blush when Lucian is around? 

“Tell me everything about America! Are the buildings there really so tall that you cannot see the sky? And do the people really all talk in this funny accent?” Oliver asks enthusiastically. Abigail remembers her prior conversation with Lucian and based on his advice she decides to tell Oliver the truth. Well almost. She tells him about the ship being attacked and sunk by some criminals, about her parents’ death and her memory loss. 

He freezes: ”You... you forgot about me? If you're joking this is really not funny.” Abigail confirms. “Uhm... so you really don't know who I am? Nothing? I am... we are well… I'm your fiancé” he replies after few stutters. Apparently, she and Oliver grew up together, their families were very close. Their marriage was arranged when they were just children. “That... that doesn't mean I don't like you or anything! I like you, you are my best friend in the world, Abby,” he says with a smile. Best friend in the world, huh? After that they wrap up the conversation and Oliver leaves the mansion. 

Abigail stays in the tea room, just sadly sitting there, trying to process everything. Admitting out loud what happened makes it all so real… and now this. She has a fiancée. Eventually Lucian prepares dinner for her, cooking far too many courses again. 

“You don't have to cook that much, I can't eat all of that alone!” 

“But I don't know which dishes my lady likes best,” he explains dishearten and watches her eat curiously, carefully watching her reaction on each dish. Abigail eventually makes a compromise with him to only cook three dishes for one meal. During dinner discussion Abigail learns that Lucian is an immortal being, entertains himself by watching humans, closing pacts with them, helping them in exchange for their souls, which he then devours.

Next morning, Abigail is once again woken up by sun rays and smell of tea, Lucian standing next to her bed already. Lucian helps her get dressed and ready for the day, serving breakfast in the dinning hall. Abigail also receives a letter - invitation to tea from Her Majesty Queen. Addressed to Abigail. Not her parents. How does she know that she’s back home? What could she want? 

Most of the day, they spend by Lucian teaching Abigail manners and how to behave at the court in the presence of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. Abigail feels like she has done this before, she knew all of this… at some point. 

Time flies by quickly and Abigail has to prepare to meet the Queen. She attempts to take a bath and wash herself but although she perfectly well knows what to do from matching her maids do it so many times before, her hands are clumsy and instead she just gets soap in her eyes, creates bruise on her forehead and yields no good result. Eventually, she gives up and defeated calls Lucian to help her wash her, ordering him to do so without looking. He washes her body carefully, trying to not look. His hands are soothing and pleasantly warm without the gloves. There is a mark engraved on the back of his hand, same as the one on Abigail’s. 

Once Abigail is all ready and good to go, they depart, riding in a carriage to the city. The landscape changes very soon from fields to the grey London streets. The carriage stops in front of the golden gates of the palace. 

Abigail is led through the palace to the tea room, Lucian following her. There a woman with grey hair sits on the chair, enjoying her cup of tea, but despite the colour of her hair she still looks very royal and full of a strong aura. She gives Abigail smile, offers her condolences and a seat. Queen seems to know everything and immediately recognises Lucian, very unhappy about his presence. Soon, she moves on to Abigail’s fathers business. Apparently, dealing with tea was only a hobby, or rather a coverup. Since ancient times the family Maglocke has been holding a special mission, working for the Crown. They have been the keepers of the secrets of the magical world. Abigail learns that magic is very real and it is living in the shadows and the sewers of London and the whole world. It is her family’s and now her job to make sure it doesn't interfere with the lives of the casual people. Her father travelled so much around the whole world, dealing with problems caused by magic. Making peace between both realms, being mediators of the two worlds. That was also the reason of the journey to America. Abigail is then given a letter, first mission. Abigail is released and leaves the palace, but only after she has learnt about the ability to telepathically communicate with Lucian, presumably due to their pact. 

Back in the carriage Abigail reads the letter which talks about boy running around, causing troubles in Camden and there’s also a list of witnesses. They travel to Camden and talk to few people. They are very mistrustful and don’t believe that such a young little fragile girl could possibly do anything to help. And neither does Abby. 

With a lot of persuasion Abigail learns that he’s been going through bins, looking for food, stole laundry, walks around at night. Some describe his as a little boy, a poor child, others talk about a dangerous beast which might kill a person soon. 

Abigail sends Lucian to get some food while she finds an abandoned house to set out a trap - preparing a trail of food to lure the boy/beast in, see what it actually is, possibly capture him. 

[wishingupontheskyandstars]

Yes I’m late but I really had fun writing this fanfic and yeah I definitely wrote more than I originally had in mind so *shrug* :) 

Reylo Week 2020 

Day 2: Fairytales

Title: A Fairytale of Butterflies, Love, and Dragons Rated: M (Mild Violence)

Summary: "Where two are one of spirit, will be the time Mortis is seen, at last, with refined sight. Believe and follow the ones with blue wings that will lead where two suns meet and they will see dragons from old flying above and will help against a regime, when in need."

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     Once upon a time... In a land where power tried to triumph over peace, an upcoming unique union would see myth and destiny be forever intertwined, diminishing powerful darkness.

In an isolated and almost abandoned village, Jakku, there lived a young woman who had raised herself since she could remember. She didn't know any other land. Her days were as miserable as the work she did to survive. She was known as the Scavenger; she retrieved weapons and machinery of old from the last battle that occurred there, for little coin and food. Sunset was her favorite time of the day as the air was cooler. She would find a secluded place to eat her supper, looking up at the stars wishing to earn enough coin to leave the village so her life could begin.

Days away from Jakku was the lovely town, Naboo. It was known for its waterfalls, meadows, and peaceful folk. In the Royal Palace, lived House Skywalker where Queen Leia reigned. Her husband was a famous equestrian and former soldier, Han Solo. Decades past, when the war between House Skywalker and House Palpatine occurred, Han was a soldier from another village and became the princess' bodyguard. As the war progressed they became each other's bodyguards and fell in love. House Skywalker conquered House Palpatine near Jakku. The night of victory for Naboo was the night Leia's and Han's son, Ben, was born, promising a new era of hope.

Prince Ben of House Skywalker was studious, always practicing his calligraphy. He was a master swordsman, learning from the most skilled and helped to train Naboo's soldiers. He loved spending time with his family. His grandmother Padme always shined his visits with picnics at the meadow, eating exotic foods, and giving him a fashionable wardrobe. His grandfather Anakin was a man he barely knew as he passed when Ben was still an infant. Throughout the years he would hear tales of the infamous Anakin Skywalker, the Hero with no fear was the best swordsman there was, beating the power-hungry Sheev Palpatine who would have brought endless destruction through the empire he was creating.

Ben grew up wanting to be like his mother and father. Throughout the years he observed his mother through her diplomacy, kindness, and sharp wit. Ben would go with his father all across the kingdom, overseeing the lands, villages, and the wellbeing of the people. At a young age, Ben was taught how to use a crossbow with the help of Han's best friend, Chewie.

For three decades, there was peace, until one afternoon at the beginning of Spring. In the Palace's council room, Leia received a letter, recognizing the fast and sloppy handwriting to be her husband's. She closed her eyes and fell in her chair.

"My Queen!"

"What is it?"

"Are you okay?"

Voices rang in the room, but Leia did not hear. She opened her eyes and told her advisors, "There has been an ambush on Han and others." She looked to her brother, Luke, a former monk and healer for the Palace. "Please tell Ben," she said in a hoarse tone.

Luke knocked on Ben's door, then opened the door revealing his nephew practicing his calligraphy. He looked up in concern. "What is it, Uncle?"

Luke sighed in disbelief. "Your father and others were ambushed in the outskirts of Naboo. It seems they were lured in that area by House Palpatine."

"How could that be? Palpatine is dead," Ben said with furrowed brows.

Luke nodded. "Yes, but the ashes of what Palpatine tried to achieve—his army, lives on. They're calling themselves the New Empire and they are rising in numbers, threatening to have revenge and destroy peace as we know it!" Luke sat across from Ben, staring at his calligraphy.

Ben tossed his quill, stood up, and walked to his large window, overlooking the grounds. He had his hands in front of him. His stance reminded Luke of his father, Anakin. "Where is my father?" Ben asked.

Luke sighed again, unsure of how to respond. "We're assuming they're on their way back. He was able to write a letter and give it a fast riding messenger so..."

Ben didn't respond. He continued to look out at the lush greenery in front of him. His expression said everything he couldn't. His eyes were watery, his mouth moving to one side then to the other, then partially open, unable to say anything.

Later that evening, the gates to the Palace were abruptly opened, letting in a badly wounded Han, Chewie, and others. Ben was dressing into a white tunic and black trousers when he received word that all the attackers were dead and his father had returned home. Ben ran down the hallway and two flights of stairs to the great hall. He helped take his father to his parent's chambers, with Leia walking at their side.

Han was placed on the large bed. His eyes were closed; he was barely breathing. Luke attended to Han first, felt his pulse, and put his hand on his blood-stained forehead. He looked at Leia and shook his head. Luke left Ben and Leia alone with Han and attended to the others.

"Han, darling? Please, wake up." Leia said softly. She held on to one hand, sitting on the bed with her husband. Ben held his father's other hand on Han's other side, his knees on the floor.

Hearing Leia's voice, Han opened his eyes slowly. "Sweetheart," he whispered. He and Leia shared a knowing look as she pressed her lips to his ever so softly. "It wasn't all bad, was it?" Han tried to smile.

"It was better," she assured him, laying her head near his.

Ben gazed at his parents in awe, wanting to leave so they had their last moments together, but he too wanted to say goodbye. "Dad," he whispered, gently squeezing his hand.

Han turned and tried harder to smile. "Kid," he said lovingly. He squeezed his son's hand back.

Ben's eyes were glassy. "Dad, I—"

"I know." Han gave his son one last half-smile before he looked at Leia, taking his last breath and closing his eyes, in peace.

Leia's guarded face she wore well as Queen crumpled into despair as she leaned into her husband, holding him. "Han," she said in a raspy tone.

Ben felt the loss of warmth from his father's hand almost instantly. He carefully guided his hand with his other, on top of his mother's. He went around the bed, sat near his mother, looking at his parents together one last time. Tears started to stream down his cheek.

The next evening funeral pyres were set up for Han and others that didn't make it through the night. Chewie, the beloved family friend, was gravely wounded but would take time to recuperate Luke thought.

Feet away from Han's pyre were Leia, Luke, Padme, and Ben. Everyone was dressed in black cloth and each held a torch. Leia closed her eyes, seeing Han's smile hearing him call her, "Princess." She opened her eyes, looked at her family, nodded, and they each set their torches at the bottom of a pyre. Leia put her hand over Han's one last time before setting her torch at the base. She stepped away and instantly felt Ben's hand holding hers. She leaned into him as he held her close.

The same night in the village of Jakuu, the young woman known as the Scavenger wrapped herself with one blanket, laying her head on a pile of hay, looking up at the night sky filled with stars. She felt great sorrow but did not know why. She reached next to her and felt for her sword with the unique jeweled hilt. Once she felt it, she sighed with relief, hoping the next day would be better than the last.

Leia sat at the head of the table, listening to her different advisors about the recent man that defected from the New Empire. They heard this man's—Finn's story from himself just an hour ago. His knowledge of the New Empire was valuable, revealing that the Supreme Leader was a young man named Armitage Hux and with his father's help he was able to rebuild a vast army to take down kingdoms, steal infants and children from villages and brainwash them to be soldiers. Finn was one of those children that will never know his real family. This plan of revenge for House Palpatine has been in motion for years, in unknown areas that are months away travel from Naboo and neighboring Kingdoms. Finn was a part of a group that was looking for young children and babies to steal. He knew that the big Army was weeks away from striking. The ones that ambushed Han and his group he figured were scouting the kingdoms, before reporting back to the New Empire.

"I believe what Finn was saying," Ben said. Others nodded in agreement. "We have received word now that the army is getting closer to our neighbors and us. We have to make sure we have all the help we can muster—"

"I found it!" Luke yelled, entering the room with everyone staring at him with looks of confusion.

"Luke?" Leia asked, needing to know what he found.

Luke stood next to Leia's chair and placed a vintage scroll in front of her. "I had not read this prophecy for decades but knew it was still out there once we heard about the New Empire Army and it took me a while to find it, but here it is."

Leia opened the scroll and read out loud, "Where two are one of spirit, will be the time Mortis is seen, at last, with refined sight. Believe and follow the ones with blue wings that will lead where two suns meet and they will see dragons from old flying above and will help against a regime, when in need." She finished reading and set down the scroll.

"Mortis?"

"Dragons? I thought they were a myth?"

"No one has seen dragons for centuries, my Queen.

"Prophecies are dangerous to depend upon."

Loud voices were talking over each other and all Leia had to do was raise her hand and the squabbling ceased. She handed the scroll to Ben.

He picked it up and at once felt a certain energy in his fingers. He didn't know why. He furrowed his brow, reading the scroll. Since he was a boy, he had read myths about Mortis and dragons. What if he wondered. He looked at his mother who was staring at him, with a knowing look. He knew she believed and he trusted her judgment.

In the Queen's outside courtyard, Leia, Padme, Ben, and Luke sat around a wood table eating their supper.

"I remember this prophecy when I was a little girl. I believe it to be true," Padme said.

"Why didn't father ever look for this place—Mortis?" Leia asked.

Padme, in her exquisitely designed black dress for mourning, leaned back in her chair. "House Palpatine and their army were not as big and Ani—" She smiled, letting his nickname slip out, which she did once in a while. "Your father wasn't sure this prophecy pertained to him." She shrugged. She looked at Ben. "You, my boy, I know what you're thinking and I agree."

Ben finished eating a boiled potato, put down his fork, and nodded at his grandmother. "I will leave tomorrow."

"You're going alone? I can't let you do that Ben—" Leia started to say.

"Mother, I think with the skepticism from the council, we shouldn't tell many of this plan. We can't let the enemy know of this prophecy, whether it is true or not, but I think...I believe it." He stopped and looked at his mother, "The New Empire is threatening to strike anytime. I need to get to Mortis as soon as possible. I will ride out this evening."

Luke nodded. "You should take that soldier that defected. He might know where other armies are along your journey."

Leia agreed. "You will take him, Poe, Rose, and a few soldiers for protection, okay?"

Ben nodded. Padme patted her grandson's hand with assurance. "The question is, which way will you go?"

"Ben has always had good instincts. If he believes, he will start to see certain wings," Leia said with a nod.

Ben shared a smile with his mother, knowing he was meant to do this. He believed it.

"Kylo?" Ben looked ahead. "Kylo?" "Kylo! Hey...Prince," Rose whispered as she brought her horse to walk along with Ben's.

Ben looked at Rose with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, Rose. I suppose an alias name is something to get used to."

"What does Kylo stand for, anyway? It seems pretty unique."

Ben nodded. "I combined both of my last names, Solo and Skywalker."

Rose raised her brows and grinned. "Clever." She adjusted her cape then asked, "It's been a couple of days since we left—You haven't seen another one of those butterflies?"

Ben shook his head. "That sole one, the evening we left, that nobody else apparently can see but me, was it." He looked around at the sparsely wooded area around them as they kept progressing on this path. "We're heading towards the graveyard—Jakku," Ben noted.

"Indeed." She looked at the empty fields of banners and rusted machinery. "It's near dusk. Should we set up camp in Jakku?" she asked, with distaste.

"We're going to have to." Ben sighed, not wanting to sleep where so many perished but they would have to, just for the night.

"I'll go tell the others." Rose rode with her horse a few yards back to Finn, Poe, and the few soldiers.

The sun had just started to set as Poe and another soldier prepared food. Finn and Rose were sitting next to each other by the campfire. They were in an area where few dry trees and bushes were surrounding them. It looked like the best spot in the whole village. Ben was feet away, sitting on a rock, looking up at the stars. He took off his dark cape and used it as a pillow, slowly closing his eyes.

A minute later he felt the tip of a sword barely touch his neck, along with, "Who are you?" Ben opened his eyes and saw a young woman standing over him, in trousers and a fitted top, both sand-colored. She wore her hair in a triple bun hairstyle. She looked at him with a fierce expression and the first thought that came to his mind was that she was beautiful, even with a blade at his throat.

"Sir!"

"Kylo!" Poe yelled out as he and others drew their swords.

Ben lifted his hand like his mother would do to stop their actions. "Good evening, my lady." He stared at the young woman and saw she had lovely hazel eyes. There was something about her that captivated him; he couldn't understand it.

"Your name is Kylo?" The girl asked, this time in a gentler tone. She started to lower her weapon.

For some reason, he couldn't lie to her and he wouldn't. "My name is Ben and I'm from House Skywalker."

"You shouldn't say your name...Sire. She could be a spy!" Poe said in frustration.

Ben shook his head. "No, I don't believe she is. Please, all of you put down your weapons." The soldiers, Poe, Finn, and Rose lowered their swords but continued to stare at the two of them.

The young woman's eyes enlarged as she immediately put down her sword and said, "You're Royalty. I apologize--I shouldn't have—"

"It's fine."

"It's just this is the area I usually reside for the night." She fidgeted with her hands in front of her.

Ben furrowed his brow, looking around the area, again. "You sleep on a rock?" He looked at her in confusion.

The woman looked anywhere but at him, feeling her cheeks warm up.

Ben immediately regretted his words. "I didn't mean anything by it." He changed the course of their conversation. "May I ask, what is your name?"

She looked back at him and raised her chin. "I'm Rey."

"What house are you from?"

"I..." Rey hesitated but truthfully said, "The house of nobody." She wasn't ashamed she came from nothing. "I don't have any family--It's just me."

Ben looked at her with compassion. "You've lived by yourself."

"Ever since I can remember." Rey pointed towards the graveyard where the battle took place decades ago. They could view the sight from the rock they were both on. "Collecting from the old is how I survive." She gave him a hopeful look. "But, I'll make enough coin to leave this place, someday." She said with a small smile. She believed it.

Ben was moved by her story. He looked down then up and saw she was staring past his shoulder. He looked behind him and saw them. This time, two blue-colored butterflies swarmed around each other and moved farther away toward the pathway, fluttering about. He looked back to Rey and saw her head tilt in question. "You see them?" He asked, breathing fast.

"The blue butterflies? Yes," she said, almost in a daze, as she continued to stare at them. "It's something I've never seen before. It feels...magical," she said at last. She finally looked at Ben. "Doesn't it feel like that?"

Ben nodded. He was glad he had someone to share this with. "It seems nobody can see them, but us."

Rey looked down at the others and saw they were still looking at her. She saw the two butterflies were swarming around them but they made no movement or gave any recognition they saw them. "You're right." She looked back at Ben, amazed. "Whoa! What does this mean?"

Ben, feeling more hope now than when he started this journey, gave Rey a half-smile. "I'll fill you in on everything, Rey."

The next morning, Rey rode on a gray horse, next to Ben's, similar in color. Two soldiers rode ahead of them. Rey looked back and saw Finn, Poe, and Rose riding together and talking amongst themselves, smiling and laughing. She smiled at them before looking back at Ben more closely in the light, seeing his dark locks and strong nose, his lips--He caught her stare and she felt her cheeks warm again. She looked away with a small smile. He gulped before asking, "How does it feel to finally be away from Jakku?"

"A relief." She made sure the dark gray cape Rose had given her was on correctly before continuing. "I've always wanted to go on an adventure but seeking dragons of old is much more than I expected."

Ben nodded. "I feel the same."

They rode on a path near the sea, into the village of Ahch-To. All around them were green-leaved trees, rocky terrain, and green grass. They rode higher and higher up a hill.

By sunset, they made camp. As Finn and Poe prepared the supper, Rose and Rey sparred enthusiastically.

Rose put her arm up and saw Rey put down her sword. They both had to catch their breath. "You're excellent, Rey! Who taught you to fight?"

"Me."

"Amazing." Rose drank water from her flask then offered it to Rey.

"Thank you," Rey whispered as she drank the cool water, feeling instantly refreshed.

"How about you and I practice, Rey?" She turned around and saw Ben with his well fitted black trousers, without a tunic. She starred at his well-defined naked torso and saw his skin was wet, as was his hair.

She licked her lips without meaning to before looking down, feeling flustered. "Shouldn't you wear a tunic or something?"

Ben shook his head. "Nah, this is how I usually train. Come on," he said, raising his long sword.

Rey nodded and raised hers and they sparred, moving together in sync as if they practiced these movements before. Minutes later they both yielded, out of breath, looking at each other, with intense stares. Rey stared at his torso again and saw it glisten with sweat. She wondered for a few seconds what it would be like to run her fingers across his chest and touch--She shook her head, trying to rid her absurd thoughts. She sighed, looking back at Ben and saw his look of awe and amazement, towards her. It made her feel butterflies in her stomach.

Later, as the other slept, Rey and Ben were near the smoldering campfire, inches apart, sitting next to each other, looking up at the stars. "It's a beautiful evening," Rey remarked.

"It is." Ben looked at Rey's sword hilt again, viewing the jewels. "Can I ask where you received that sword?"

She grabbed her sword and handed it to Ben. He looked at it more closely. Rey said all she knew about it. "Years ago, I saw it covered by shields and dirt and kept it with me ever since."

"If you had sold it, you would have made enough coin to leave Jakku ages ago."

Rey shrugged. "Yes, but for some reason, I wanted to keep this for myself. I don’t know why. It's like it called to me." She scoffed. "You might think me foolish."

"No." He ran his fingers over the hilt. He had heard tales of this sword and seeing it in person was a majestic sight. "After my grandfather defeated Palpatine, he came across one of his followers, Dooku, and that man fought with everything he had. He even cut off my grandfather's arm that carried the sword." He looked at Rey's astonished face. "If it wasn't for his best friend, Kenobi, he would have died on the battlefield." Ben looked at the sword again, feeling the hilt. "They never found his sword." He handed it back to Rey. "It seems that it was found by the right person, though."

Rey's eyes widened, looking at her sword. "This is your grandfather's?!"

Ben smiled slowly and put his hand over hers. They both felt a warmth and energy, as they stared at one another, intently. "It was and belongs to you."

"Thank you, Ben." She interlocked her fingers with his. Ben stared at their hands and felt at ease, smiling at this closeness, with the fire in front of them. It was—

All of a sudden, there moment of intimacy was interrupted, by screams and men in guarded armor, running towards the camp, with weapons raised.

"First Empire! First Empire!" They chanted as they ran. "For our Supreme Leader!"

The fire and moonlight was their only light as Rey and Ben raised their weapons and fought with all their might. Dozens of soldiers ran towards them.

Poe, Finn, Rose, and the Naboo soldiers woke up, alarmed, but grabbed their weapons and fought with ease against the First Empire soldiers.

Rey and Ben were back to back, fighting each soldier with expertise, seeing the soldiers lacked skill. Rey looked back and ran her sword through a soldier's gut, who was prepared to strike at Ben. Ben nodded at Rey and fought with fierce strength. At one point, Rey felt for Ben's thigh, using his bent back for leverage, and with her foot pushed a soldier in the stomach, knocking him down hard. Ben gulped but shook his head and kept his mind on fighting the enemy.

A voice rang out, "I see we have the mighty Prince Ben of House Skywalker. Wonderful, indeed." A man with red hair and in black attire, had his arms behind his back, looking at the battle before him.

"Don't let him distract you, Ben!" Rey yelled as she and he got separated and were fighting by themselves against two and three soldiers at a time.

Ben kept his mind on the enemies before him, took a few seconds to strategize, but then heard Rey yell out in pain. He looked ahead and saw a sword pierce and scar her right arm. He needed to get to her but had to defeat these soldiers first. He took a deep breath and fought brutally, piercing his sword through a stomach, punching a man in the face as he swung his other hand with the sword, decapitating. "Ahh!" He yelled, fighting others coming towards him.

"Kill, Prince Ben!" The man with ginger hair yelled. "Bring his head to me, your Supreme Leader, now!"

Armitage Hux Ben thought as he easily killed another solider in the heart. The Supreme Leader was just yards away. He figured he could reach him.

"And bring the traitor to me!" Hux said with menace.

Finn, fighting his own, looked at Hux, sneered at his former tormenter, and continued to fight alongside Rose and Poe.

Rey gave all her strength but with that pierce to her arm, she made sure not to be weakened by it. "Ahh!" She yelled as she swung at two soldiers. They were moving towards a large circular area, filled with moss all around. Rey ran towards it, looking down and seeing water below. It looked like a cave in there. Before she could look further she turned and stabbed a soldier, seeing more come her way. She saw Ben, still fighting. For one second their eyes met until Rey felt a blow to her head and she fell into the hole. The last thing she recalled was hearing Ben call her name, as her eyes closed, hitting the freezing water.

Hux and a couple of soldiers looked down the hole and smiled. The sound of fighting could still be heard in the background. They had their backs to the battle.

One soldier pointed down the hole. "Supreme Leader, do you want us to go find the Prince?"

Hux shook his head. "No. That fall killed him. I know it. Just kill—" He stopped as he felt a stab to his back. His eyes were wide with shock as he heard in his ear. "Your senseless bloodshed ends now."

In the dark cave, Ben gently retrieved Rey from the icy waters. He placed her on the rocky ground, in front of what looked like a mirror. "Rey?" He shivered, feeling the effects of the water. He felt for her pulse at her wrist and neck; it was weak but there. Like him, they needed to be warm. He knew what he had to do and hopefully it would help both of them. He took off his clothes quickly and hers. He looked away from her intimate parts and just focused on getting her warm, pulling her to him. Her hair, loose from her buns, was placed over her shoulder as he rubbed her back and arms, making sure she was receiving warmth. He pulled her close and laid his head near hers, closing his eyes.

A while later, Rey opened her eyes and instead of the cold, she thought she would feel, she felt incredible soothing warmth. She moaned and especially felt the warmth behind her. She then realized she wasn't wearing clothing. Her eyes widened as she saw her bare breasts stomach, and... She gulped as she turned and saw Ben sleeping. She then knew what he did and was grateful to him. He kept them both alive. She felt her breasts touch his strong chest. She liked the feeling as she finally ran her fingers through his dark locks, tracing a finger down his nose, to his full lips and strong chin. The gentle tickle of her finger woke him.

"You're awake," Ben whispered as he slowly opened his eyes.

"You saved us."

Ben put his arm around Rey's waist, pulling her close. "We've known each other for such a short while but that's just enough to know that..."

Rey raised a brow and asked, "Know what?"

"I love you, Rey." He stared into her eyes, not caring if she said it back. He wanted her to know of his true feelings towards her.

Rey felt a certain warmth in her heart as a single tear rain down her right cheek. She felt a happiness she thought she would never feel as she said, with all her heart. "Ben, I love you, too." She leaned forward, their lips inches from touching, and in a second she touched her lips with his, feeling an intimacy she had never felt in all her life. She felt him respond and she smiled against his lips, kissing him deeper.

Ben pulled Rey to be on top of him, breaking their kiss. He looked up and saw the woman he was in love with and he sighed in relief as she leaned down and kissed him again. He caressed her scar on her arm and felt a part of him awaken and she must have felt it as well as she looked at him intently with her hazel eyes and breathed just as hard as he was. She kissed him again and again. He rubbed her back lovingly as he felt they instantly became one, moaning together, their breaths mingled as they continued to share their love, together.

Later, dressed back in their clothing, Rey and Ben held hands, their swords held by their free hands, as they followed more blue butterflies through the cave, toward the opening revealing a beach.

"We made it out, Ben!" She squeezed his hand and felt him squeeze back. He looked at her, with a gentle smile, leaning down and kissing her soft lips. They were heavenly. She smiled and caressed his cheek.

They both looked around and together saw others running towards them.

"Do you see—" He started to say.

"Yes, I see—Rose and—" They walked in their direction. "Poe, Finn, and the New Empire soldiers?" She turned to Ben and gave him a quizzical look.

Ben's brows furrowed, knowing Poe and Rose wouldn't betray him and Naboo.  

Rose had her arms raised as she hugged Rey, breaking Rey's hold on Ben's hand. "You are both safe!" She turned to Ben. "We thought we lost you two. We walked back and forth on these shores three times. She looked towards the rocks. "How did you get out?"

Rey pointed towards the entrance that was now covered in rock. "Ben? Do you see what I see?"

Ben nodded, mystified.  He looked towards the water, seeing the gentle waves roll in. He looked back at the crowd coming towards them. "Where's Hux?"

Rose crossed her arms. "Finn killed him and he was amazing." She smiled toward Finn and Poe, as they finally made it to her, Rey, and Ben.

"Finn, I'm grateful for what you did," Ben said with a nod.

Finn nodded towards him and explained, "There are generals just like him, with dark ambition. One of them will be the new Supreme Leader." He turned and put his arm out toward the New Empire soldiers. "After I killed Hux, I called out to the remaining soldiers that they didn't have to keep being brainwashed in fighting a senseless war. They could be better and live a new life," He said that last part as he looked at Poe and Rose with a smile.

"We stopped because what Finn says is right. We're not going to fight for power," a young woman said as she walked a few steps toward Ben. "My name is Jannah, Sire..." She started to bow but stopped once she heard his voice.

"We're in this together, Jannah, and that means equally helping each other." He looked at Rey and saw her smile. He looked back at all the soldiers. "You must all know where we're heading to. We ask that you join us, to help and stop the New Empire. Will you help?"

More soldiers walked behind and beside Jannah. One soldier ripped the cloak that held the New Empire's symbol and he stepped on it, with meaning. Jannah looked around at her friends and said, "We will."

The day passed on as they walked along the shore and that's when Rey and Ben both saw in front of them, more blue butterflies. They followed down the shore until everyone saw the binary suns and nearby were the dragons, flying above, as they just appeared out of nowhere.

Everyone looked in awe, seeing eight dragons, of large size, soar above them, calling out to each other.

"Mortis," Rey whispered. She took Ben's hand in hers and smiled.

Ben squeezed her hand, feeling her squeeze right back, as he continued to look above. "Beautiful," he said, simply.

In minutes, the dragons circled them. Ben and Rey walked toward one that looked dark gray. They raised a hand and the dragon moved forward, it's snout touching their hands. It made a cooing sound. "We'll ride this one," Ben said. He looked at everyone else. "Remember our plan, everyone. See if they will come on our side first but if they attack..."

"The dragons will do the rest," Rey said with a nod. Everyone nodded and cheered.

"Let's do this!" Jannah said to her fellow soldiers.

"We are the spark that will burn down the New Empire," Poe said with determination.

Ben nodded toward his friend as he and Rey easily climbed on their dragon. Everyone else did the same with the remaining dragons, some with four on a back.

"Ready?" Ben whispered in Rey's ear, as she sat before him holding onto the dragon as he had a hand on her stomach, keeping her close to him.

Rey looked back and kissed Ben, their lips moving in sync. She smiled and said, "Ready." Then at once, they were in the air, ready to fight a regime and restore peace for all the lands, and afterward, live happily ever after.

                                                  ~The End~

[jeonggukingdom]

the sea watcher (m)

▽ Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

▽ Genre:  pirate!AU x witch!AU, smut, fluff

▽ Summary:  They call the women of your kind “The Sea Watchers.” Born under the favor of the Gods, your kind was bestowed with the power to bend air and water to your will. And with that power, you are set on saving the lives of your brother and your lover, Jeon Jeongguk. Two years have passed since you last saw either of them but you kept your promise, you have waited for him to return and now, all that is left to find out is if he has waited for you too.

↳ alternatively: pirate Jeongguk with his cherry hair is a whole effing snack.

▽ Word Count: 16.812 words

▽ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, oral, semi-public sex.

Rocky cliffs of black and bottle green, a stretch of seemingly infinite turquoise sea and the sound of wind delicately embracing the island with its arms, is the place you call home far more often than the four sturdy walls assigned to you and your family.

It is, easily, the place you spend most of your days in, sitting next to the ancient turret in case rain decides to fall and you need a quick repair from it.

Today is no different. You seat at your usual spot on the lemon grass, facing the grandiosity of the Vast Sea shimmering under the intense orange light of the sunset.

The cliff is silent besides the sound of little waves colliding against the rocks, transported by the gentle breeze that seemingly tugs at your loose strands of air, stretching your lips into a pleased smile.

It is the end of a quiet day like many others and, as always, it is the best part of the day not because you have to leave your spot to favor the warmness of your home but rather because it is the end of your work day as well.

There had been a time when you were a kid and you used to spend your days just like this, sitting right next to your mother, waiting. But those days were much easier than the ones ahead of you now because back then if you closed your eyes for a little bit, if you got distracted for a minute or two, nothing would have happened. Now, the weight of the safety of your fellow citizens and the Island itself weighs on your inexperienced shoulders and even blinking for a second seems like a luxury you cannot indulge in.

There were times when you couldn’t wait to take your mother’s spot and make her proud and now, now you wish you could take her back to your side and live a little more like the girls of your age. You wish you could set a foot out of the Island, even for a single day but, of course, that is bound to remain a dream.

You are the last of your kind in Northern Claw and leaving it would mean forsaking every person you ever knew, it would mean abandoning them to a cruel fate they did not deserve and, despite your desires, you are not quite as selfish as it would take for you to leave. Of course, leaving had never been an option and it had always been a teenage dream you wouldn’t have any desire to follow if your loved ones hadn’t decided to embark, leaving you behind.

Sometimes you think of all the possibilities life would have held for you if you had been born in a different family, with a different body or rather, if you had born as a simple human like many others. These thoughts are the ones that keep you awake at night, torturing your hands in anxiety and, sometimes, despair. But then, when the sun is set again, you are reminded of the fact that you’re not alone, that many of your kind are out there, guarding their islands like you are with your own.

Every island in the White Coral Archipelago has a woman like you, protecting the coasts from the dangers held within the water and, one day, you will raise a little girl, just like you, to take over your position and fulfill her destiny. They call the women of your kind “The Sea Watchers.” Born under the favor of the Gods, your kind was bestowed with the power to bend air and water to your will and it’s that power, seeping through your bones, that has made you and your kind rare and indispensable for your people.

You heave out a sigh as the sun sinks deeper into the water, barely halfway through until night falls on the land.

Your insides twitch in anguish and your heart shrinks as you mark another black line into the rock beside you, signaling another day spent without your brother and his best friend — also known as the man you fell in love with when you were still a kid — by your side.

Many ships have returned after they left. You have helped countless of people to return to their families, you have saved so many lives but that happiness you have felt in those moments has always revealed to be fleeting when those you love the most are still away.

You sadly eye the water, the hope within your heart dissipating alongside with the light for you know, no ship will arrive now or before the sun is up again. Anyone knows better than to venture the Vast Sea at night and, despite your public opinions about your brother, his captain and the rest of the crew are not dumb enough to try and cross the sea when you aren’t there to help them.

The sea likes to claim its victims on their way back home and never when they are leaving for the feelings residing in the hearts of those who leave are never as strong as of those that make their return. In the hearts of those who leave there is often dread, sometimes excitement and maybe giddiness but when returning, oh, that’s when the hearts play the song of happiness and hope, pride and relief and it’s those feelings, functioning as a beacon, that lures the creatures that leave under the sea to surface and try to claim the power of human emotions as their own.

Being a sailor or a pirate is not an easy task and it is a path that isn’t chosen by many due to the risks of exploring the Seven Seas and find death somewhere far far away from home.

It is a difficult journey but it is a well-repaid one and many that weren’t born under the favor of the starts do seek it out, choosing to sacrifice their lives in order for their families to never struggle. It is a call, much like your own, and it is one made to prevent future generations from having to make the same choice.

Of course, there are some exceptions, there are those that choose the job for the thrill, the excitement, the adrenaline given by the danger. And one of those people is your brother, Jimin.

The offsprings of those born with magic are at the high end of the hierarchy in every Island and they are as close to nobility as they could possibly get. A token, as they would say, of protecting the land at a cost of a normal life.

It is a given, then, that your brother is one of those people. One of the few with the chance to never work a day in his life and still feel secure at the end of the month.

And yet, he chose the hardest path for himself, something that could give him all the emotions he so desperately wanted to feel while also making a name for himself. One that isn’t tied directly to yours.

Of course, a part of you understands him. You can’t always live in the shadow of someone else but, now, after two long years without seeing him, the hope for his return gets thinner every day.

There is this tiny voice inside of you telling you he is gone, forever, that the ship has sunk somewhere very far from your Island and that he’s never coming back. None of them are.

You get up on your feet as you watch the last rays of the sun kiss the cliff with their warming touch, succumbing to the evidence that today is just another fruitful day.

It is with that feeling that makes your heart sink within your chest that you take a look at the sea for what you thought to be the last time for the day. And it is only then that you notice a shadow in the middle of the sea, moving as fast as the wind concedes it to go, clearly aiming for the safety of the harbor.

Your heart starts hammering inside your chest, your mouth suddenly dry because you have never done this so late in the day where the light is little and the creatures crawling under the sea hungrier than ever.

It scares the living hell out of you but you do not stop pondering the many ways this could go wrong, instead, you start running.

There is a bell inside the turret that you must ring to gather the citizens on the shores to help those that are coming back and to welcome their loved ones.

The bell rings loudly in your ears as you shake the red rope with all your strength and, confiding in the wind to carry the sound across the Island, you do not stop to make it ring longer.

Your feet barely touch the ground as you run down the cliff, aiming for the shore, hoping for the city lights to be strong enough to illuminate the sea once the sun is set, allowing you to save the ship seeking salvage.

When you finally reach the beach you are out of breath and you allow yourself only a few seconds of rest before your feet are flying above the silver sand, taking you as close to the water as you possibly can.

The ship that was once a black shadow between the hues of blue has now turned into a Frigate you can make out the details of and, as you squint your eyes to look better at it, you notice it: the black flag on the master tree. A crown of two red roses enmeshed around two white snakes framing an evil looking skull. It is a flag you would never mistake for another because you helped design it. It is your brother’s ship.

“It’s them! Oh my God, Soohyun , it’s them!”

The shaky voice of your father comes behind your back and you allow yourself to look away from the sea enough to see the tears falling from his eyes. Your body is rigid with tension and words seems to be lodged deep within your throat for you cannot speak even a single one to your father. You can’t give him comfort nor relief because right now, you’re far more scared than you’ve ever been in your entire life.

You look at the sky and shake your head no, forcing yourself to peel off of those dark thoughts and do something that could actually help your brother and the rest of the crew.

With a deep breath, you raise your hands to the sky, summoning the magic of air within you. It’s always exhilarating when the power awakens and surges through your every muscle and bone until you can feel it even on the tips of your hair.

The magic of air was bestowed upon your kind to help the ships navigate faster on the sea, allowing them to escape the clutches of those that seek their end.

The wind arises, whitening the sea around the Frigate and transporting it forward just like you order it to do. But it is not enough for you can hear the growls of the creatures sleeping in the depths of the sea as they awaken, stirring back up to life at the prospect of fresh preys to claim as their own.

You can hear the voices of those around you and you glance at the hope and fear in their faces, at the disappointment coming from those that still wait for their loved ones to return. You understand that look in their eyes because until a few moments ago, you had that same sorrow within you.

But now the wait is over, you thought to yourself, allowing yourself to indulge in the thought of embracing your brother and his captain again.

A deep roar fills the air, coming from deep within the sea and it is dread that peels you of from the nice imagery in your head for you could recognize that sound among thousands. Tonight, the creature that decided to come out and play is the Sea Wasp.

You wanted your senses to be wrong but when a flash of white emerges from the water, there is no doubt you will be facing the strongest creature in the sea tonight.

A shiver runs down your spine as you watch the soft expanse of its head coming out of the water, quickly followed by one of its sharp tentacles clearly aiming for the hull.

A single pierce at the wood base would be enough for the Frigate to embark water and slow down, stranding in the middle of the sea.

A scream erupts from the back of your throat and you push your body forward alongside with your hands. The air shifts around you, cutting through the sky to reach the creature hidden in the waves. Sharp as the strongest blades ever made, the air you summoned is designed to cut deep into the sleek skin of the enemy and see its blood tint the sea a nice shade of burgundy.

The creature growls in pain as you cut through its translucent skin but it is not enough to make it budge. The Sea Wasp emerges further from within the water, its tentacles aiming for the masts and cut down the only support the ship has from the wind you evoked.

The Frigate shakes under the force of the attack and with dread you watch the crew tumbling down and then search for purchase to not fall into the sea and die a premature death. Screams fill the bay all around you coming from both the crew and their families on land and you nervously wet your lips, trying to come out with a plan that will save them all.

Somebody screams your name behind your back, urging you to do something, anything, in order to save their loved ones and you do not blame them. If someone dies today, it will be your fault.

There are thousands of possibilities running through your mind but it is only one that will assure you the desired effect: distract the Sea Wasp long enough for the ship to reach the harbor.

You run into the water, ignoring the voices behind your back, ignoring the desperate calls of your father, and keep moving forward, disregarding your safety in order to grant it to the others.

It’s a rule everyone is taught as a kid born on the Island: you can’t set a single foot inside the water or the creatures within it will wake up and come out to eat you alive.

It was the golden rule for you not only for the role you were going to take on once you were older but also because a creature made out of magic is a far too tempting prey for any creature of the sea to stay put.

You and your magic are a bloody beacon for the Sea Wasp and any other thing living in the sea and it is what you are counting on as you keep walking inside the icy water until you are shoulder deep within it, close enough to the ship to hear what the crew is yelling to one another.

The Sea Wasp is the most ancient creature of the sea and you know it wouldn’t let the opportunity to make itself better and stronger pass. It is your whole plan, after all.

A deep growl shakes the air anew and you watch the beast retreat its tentacles, turning unmistakably towards you even though it has no eyes to look right at you.

It is then that your body starts to quiver and you’d like to believe yourself that is because the water is cold against your skin but you have to admit, despite choosing this for yourself, the fear plays a far bigger part in it.

You were raised to carry a noble heart, you were raised to care more for others than yourself and, of course, a big part of you does but as you watch the creature move towards you, you can’t stop your survival instincts to flash red alarming lights at you, urging you to fucking-run-back-to-safety.

The Sea Wasp is a colossal creature and you have known this for years despite only witnessing its presence from up the cliff or, at best, from the safety of the beach but, now that you have the “pleasure” of meeting it at such a near vicinity there is no doubt it is as gigantic as the stories told from the survived sailors depict it to be.

Your mouth opens in astonishment at its grandiosity and it’s with utter dismay that you realize one of its tentacles is as big as you are.

There are people calling your name from the shore, screaming desperately for you to go back and save yourself before it is too late but one voice seems to pierce through it all and it’s coming from the ship. It’s a voice you prayed to hear for two long years and now it’s yelling at you, asking you what-the-hell-are-you-doing and it puts a smile on your lips because you missed it as much as someone who’s suffocating misses air.

You look up to the ship’s bow and sure enough there he stands, pushing himself forward as if to try and reach for you and save you from the clutches of the monster and, despite the desperateness of your situation, it still makes your heart flutter in your chest.

You can almost make out to perfection the gentle features of his face as the Frigate pushes forward again, trying to save itself in time for you to escape as well and he looks as dashing as he ever was. The ship’s captain, your brother’s friend and your lifetime crush Jeon Jeongguk are staring at you as if you have gone crazy and maybe you have but if it means saving him and your brother then, crazy is a goddamn good thing.

You don’t know why there are suddenly tears in your eyes but maybe it’s because you’re happy to see him, to know that he is well or maybe it’s because you fear this may be a goodbye but either way you do not dare shed them because if you have to go down, you will go down fighting, and fighters do not cry until it’s over.

The Sea Wasp launches itself forward and you force yourself to stay in place and not give out how scared you are even though you know, it can sense it oozing off of you just like it can sense your power awakening further now that you’re floating inside one of your elements.

You can barely register the swift movement of one of its tentacles aiming at your neck but it is enough for you to raise up your hands and create a wall of water in front of you. It is not the sturdiest defense, granted, but it is enough to make it budge against the surface and retreat ever so slightly.

The creature roars in frustration and moves quickly forward until a mere few inches stand between you and its gigantic body. There is no way in hell you’ll be able to stop all its appendices from hitting you or, worse, envelop one of your limbs and simply drag you down within the water until you give up to your survival instincts and open your mouth to breathe. You can almost imagine it, the feeling of water filling your lungs, suffocating you from within. It would be a painful and slow death, one that would give you enough time to know that you are dying and all that panic and fear would only feed the monster further.

There is an explosion in front of you and you realize it’s the aftermath of a cannon bomb, aimed at the beast in the vain hope to split its body open.

The creature rotates on itself and behind it you can make out the outline of the Frigate, the name Spitfire graven in the wood in shining gold.

You expect to see Jeongguk where you left him but it quickly appears obvious to you that he is the one behind the cannon for, in his place right on the bow and staring at you with panic in his eyes stands your brother, Jimin.

“Get away, now!” He roars at you, his features twisted in concern and knuckles white in the effort to keep himself anchored on the ship’s bow.

“I’m not leaving you,” you scream back at the top of your lungs just as another bomb hits the water, making the creature hiss at the burning sensation.

The sea seems to get bigger as bombs keep falling inside of it, exploding all around you and before you can even register the sudden switch, a wave passes above your head, forcefully pushing you down.

You struggle to keep yourself afloat and away from the monster and when you finally emerge you find your brother yelling your name at the top of his lungs, face as pale as a paper.

The creature is fighting against the ship anew, quick to figure out that if it takes down who is helping you then you won’t stand a single chance. Quite the rich spoils of a battle all of you would make.

Your eyes narrow on the tentacle aiming at the master tree and you gather air between your fingers anew: with this proximity, there is absolutely no room for error and with all the strength you can muster, you thrust your power forward.

The creature growls in pain as another one of its tentacles is severed from its body and you watch the blood flood the waters and splash above the ship.

You can tell the Sea Wasp is angered and you watch with horror as several of his appendices come out of the water, seizing the ship completely and twisting it sideways so that the crew has to grasp what they can to keep themselves on board and not fall into the trap that is the sea.

“Let them fucking go!”

The panic that has seized you renders your mind blank and tarnishes all rational thoughts until the only thing that remains is the urge to kill the bloody beast before it’s too late.

Your eyes turn to slits as you evoke all the power you were bestowed with aiming it at the core of the beast: its head.

You can feel your magic filling you up to the brim and to the point you think you may explode if you do not let go of it and it is only when you feel like you may actually combust that you push it all out.

The air produces a snapping sound all around you and it’s almost like you can see it propelling forward to meet the sleek skin of the creature in a transparent wave that doesn’t care if to hit the target it will have to wreck the ship as well.

The sound of skin being cut fills the bay along with the agonizing scream of a terribly wounded monster.

The sea is no longer a beautiful shade of blue but it has turned completely red and you can almost taste copper in your mouth as splashes of water move past your shoulders.

You watch the creature shrink on itself in pain and it’s with a dark satisfaction that you stare at it as it retreats from the ship, trying to salvage as much of its body as it possibly can.

“For the love of God, Soohyun, get on this fucking ship!”

It’s the voice of your brother that peels you off from the sight of the Sea Wasp retreating to its dudgeon beneath the water to mend its wounds and you look up to find Spitfire anchored right in front of you.

The crew is cheering for you and those sounds warm up your heart but the joy is quick to dissipate as you take a good look at the state of the ship. Spitfire is barely staying afloat and it looks beyond salvage and you don’t know why the thought makes you so sad when at least you saved all the crew members but maybe it’s because it was Jeongguk’s father’s ship and it’s the only thing he has to remember his father by, or maybe it’s because you used to spend a lot of time on it when it was still in the harbor, waiting to depart again, when the three of you were still silly kids with not a single problem in their lives.

Your brother is leaning towards you, a hand firmly grasping a rope to not fall into the water and you take his hand into your own, allowing him to pick you up and engulf you into his arms the moment after.

“What were you thinking, you bloody idiot?”

“You’re welcome and oh, yes, nice to see you again, too” you reply, pushing on his chest to take a look at his face. Oh, how you have missed those sweet eyes and the plump curve of those lips usually stretched into a tender smile.

“Don’t you even dare, we are going to have a long talk once we’re home. You almost died, you understand that?” He looks at you with a mixture of anger, relief, love and many other things you can’t pinpoint exactly but it doesn’t matter. He is back, he is alive and everything is going to be fine again.

“You almost died too,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper and he shakes his head, embracing you tightly as the Spitfire resumes its navigation.

The sun has completely set while you were fighting the sea monster and you are made aware of its absence by the frigid air brushing on your wet clothes and skin.

“You must be freezing,” Jimin says, noticing the way you quiver between his arms, “You idiot,” he mutters to himself as he brings you under cover where the ambient is definitely warmer.

A blanket materializes around your shoulders the next second as you sit down on a bed, sighing with contentment as circulation starts flowing back up inside your body.

You are sitting in silence, staring at your brother, when the door is thrown open and Jeongguk appears on the threshold, a troubled look on his too-pale face.

“J-Jeongguk!” You feel blood rush immediately to your cheeks at the sight of him, finally standing in front of you.

His hair is the color of ripe cherries under the sunlight, so much different from the raven black you were used to, and his body seems to be bigger than you remember it to be. Stronger.

All those considerations are set aside, though, as he rushes inside the cabin and takes you into his arms, hugging you close to his chest.

“How could you do such a reckless thing?” He asks, voice shaking with the shock it must have given him seeing you inside the water, a few inches away from being dead.

“I wanted to save you, all of you.” You whisper, hugging him back as you have imagined doing a million times in those nights spent alone, worrying for them.

“Don’t be this stupid ever again,” he lets go as those words leave his mouth, but he keeps his strong hands around your shoulders, looking inside your eyes with the severity you would expect from your father, not your friend.

“Stop scolding me, both of you!” You retort in indignation at their behavior. Of course, you understand the concern and you also know it wasn’t the smartest plan ever but it did get the job done and you are now all safe and sound and that is what truly matters.

“Don’t give me hell because I made a quick call and you had to worry about me one single time!” You jump on your feet, brushing off Jeongguk’s hands from your shoulders, “I have worried for your lives for the past two years and you have no idea how terrible that feels!”

Tears gather in your eyes as you recall all the dark thoughts, all the terrible nights and days, but you blink them away, focusing your gaze on the floor under your feet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to yell at you, I’m just...” you trail off, your mouth into a pout as you tentatively look up to your brother.

“I’m sorry, Soohyun, I know it must have been hard... I missed you, too. Like crazy.” He says, standing up to place a hand atop your head, “There wasn’t a single day I didn’t think about you or dad.”

You take a glance at Jeongguk and he nods his head, giving you a sheepish smile in return.

“Then what took you so long?” You ask, your voice small and you do realize you are acting like a child but it is a breeze of fresh air knowing that you don’t have to be the adult now, carrying all the responsibility of an entire Island on your shoulders.

Jeongguk and your brother smirk at your question, glancing at each other before chuckling.

“Oh, Soohyun, we will tell you all about our adventures through the Seven Seas.” Jimin caresses your cheek with a glint of mirth into his eyes and you mirror his smile, relieved to finally see him go back to being the brother you remembered him to be.

“Everything? You promise?” You ask, hope laced between your words for there is nothing more you’d like than to hear the travelers talk about the wondrous worlds beyond the Vast Sea. It is, after all, the only way you have to see these places and even if it’s only by the vivid imagination of your mind, it is still better than nothing at all.

“I promise.”

The tavern is filled with mirth and booming laughter; hours have passed since the rescue of the Spitfire crew and the whole town seems to have gathered at Yuqi’s Inn to celebrate the safe return of the fourteen boys.

It is a tradition of Northern Claw to have a homecoming party every time someone sets foot on the land again but it usually isn’t something you partake in for more than a couple hours or at least not ever since you have taken up your role as the Sea Watcher.

Tonight, of course, it is an exception. You have seen your brother and the rest of the crew depart before, you have welcomed them back before but it all feels different after two long years.

It is the longest journey they ever had and there is this tiny part of you that still struggles to believe they are actually back, well and mostly unharmed. There is this voice in your mind warning you, telling you that it is all just a dream and when you’ll open your eyes again they will be gone, as quickly as they appeared.

Your father sits next to you, a glass of beer in his hand and you smile at the light that fills his eyes. It is the first time in those long years you have seen him smile again and that is a sight that warms your heart and fills it with joy.

You can’t take your eyes off of him because you want to remember him like this once your brother departs again, leaving the both of you to wait for him with worry clutching your poor hearts.

“It’s nice having him back, isn’t it?” You ask, nudging his shoulder and he looks down on you, teeth in full display as he nods his head.

Only a few hours ago he had been incredibly mad at you. You had been scolded, yelled at and even threatened to be in detention for the rest of your days on Earth but then, once the shock started wearing off and your brother presence had sunk in, everything turned back to normal.

“The two loves of my life under the same roof? It’s bloody heaven!”

Your father laughs before embracing you with his free arm and then planting a kiss atop your head. You can’t blame him: you have been worried out of your wits but it must have been hell for your father to handle.

Jimin looks at you from the middle of the Inn, a deep smile stretched on his lips and he decides to leave the reins of the conversation to his fellow crew members in favor of your company.

“Hey, I’m the prodigal son, why is she getting all the affection?”

There is no maliciousness in his words but you still return his question with an ice glare that makes him chuckle and shake his head.

“Come here, then, I have a nice set of arms, you rascal!”

Your father lounges forward to grasp Jimin’s arm and force him to sit next to him so he can hug him closer just like he did with you and, despite his protests, you know it’s exactly what Jimin wanted.

“Oh, come on, old man, I have a reputation to maintain!”

“Pfft, as if. Everyone on board knows you’re a softie, Jimin,” the low timbre of Jeongguk’s voice interrupts your family moment and you turn your head around, surprised to find him so close to the three of you. You wondered how long he had been standing there, waiting for you to notice him.

“I’m not, you ungrateful son of a bitch.” Jimin raises from his seat, assuming his most menacing look which, to be frank, is quite adorable and Jeongguk shakes his head, laughing at his antics.

It’s surprising how in the span of two years your feelings for him haven’t changed a bit or, if possible, you find them to be stronger now that he’s really in front of you.

There is this need within you to touch him, be close to him, breathe the same air as he does and it scares the living daylights out of you because you know you would do anything for this boy.

“You both haven’t grown a bit since you left,” your father shakes his head before gulping down the rest of his drink, “Two grown-ass-babies.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling before winking at you, standing up to join another group of people at the end of the room.

“I’m leaving you youngsters alone so, Soohyun, keep an eye on those two, will you?”

You chuckle and nod your head yes, feigning superiority as you look at your brother and his best friend.

“Hey, she’s younger than the both of us!”

“Not mentally, she’s not.”

Your father leaves with that statement and you click your tongue in your mouth, glancing at your fuming brother.

Jeongguk sits next to you, his shoulder brushing against your own as he gulps down his drink and you look up at him, blood rushing through your cheeks at the sudden proximity of his warm body.

With a ‘tsk’ Jimin unceremoniously sits down in the free spot next to you, successfully squeezing you between him and his best friend.

You clear your throat, trying to dissipate the feeling of being trapped so close to your lifetime crush and focus your attention on your brother.

“So, what about your promise?” You ask, one of your eyebrows arching upwards as you tilt your head to the side.

“What promise?”

“The one you made on the boat,” you furrow your brows, eyes reducing to slits to send him the most threatening glare you can muster.

“You want me to tell you all about our adventures right now?!” His eyes are as big as saucers as he stares down at you, mouth agape with an exaggerated depiction of a shocked expression but you slowly nod your head, not falling for his antics.

“Maybe not all, but at least something,” you shrug your shoulders and he shakes his head, bewildered, “I think I’ve earned it, don’t you?”

Jeongguk laughs at your side, turning his body towards you so he can face your brother as well. His left arm is resting on the table right behind your back and you can feel the warmness radiating from it on your skin. In a twisted and delusional way, it almost feels like being held by him.

“Don’t laugh, that applies to you too,” you say, hiding your feelings at the best of your abilities.

“What? Why? I never promised you that!” He cocks his left eyebrow upwards, a daring look on his features.

“I still saved your life, mister! You should grant me at least one wish.”

You cross your arms on your chest, slightly pouting towards him because it is a fact that Jeongguk may be able to resist your words but never your cuteness.

He diverts his gaze from you, audibly gulping down before chuckling to himself and it’s that sound that lets you know you just won the lottery.

Your bravery in the water earlier that night has granted you the power of having both boys in the palm of your hands.

“Ok, fine, what do you want to know?” It is your brother that caves in first and you turn towards him with a triumphant smile on your lips.

“How about the furthest place you have been?”

When you were a kid you used to sit on the grass next to your mom as she watched the sea and you’d often wonder what the world was hiding behind its infinite looking surface.

With your brother, you used to dream to cross the world and see all it had to offer and make memories together. That was supposed to happen before your mother died but life got in the way and now, years after, you still wonder what you’re missing out and how far the world stretches on itself.

“We went to Blackfort!” Your brother turns completely towards you, excitement clear in his demeanor as he struggles to keep sitting still while he recalls the moments he spent at the literal other end of the world.

Blackfort is a famous city with high cliffs much like the ones of your own island but made out of pure onyx instead of simple rocks. It is rumored to be impregnable and the most beautiful city ever known to mankind.

“Is it as beautiful as the stories say?”

“Oh no, Soohyun, it’s even better! There are houses as tall as the turret we have up on the cliff, and there is a palace so big you can actually see it from the sea and it shines like silver under the moonlight,” your brother talks fast and bites down his words and you find it endearing because he retained this habit he had as a kid even in adulthood.

“And the people there, oh! You would totally love it: they are so welcoming and kind and their skin seems to glow in the sunlight and do you know how we used to joke about ever seeing a mermaid?! I did!”

Your brother word-vomits all he discovered in the beautiful Blackfort and the more he talks the more your heart squeezes in your chest, getting smaller and smaller.

There is happiness within it for all the things he has seen but there is that tiny part of you that envies him to no end. And despite the fact that it was you that asked for the details of his trip, the more he shares the more you feel like you want his tale to end.

“It sounds wonderful,” you reply, voice as small as you feel in the same old clothes, sitting in the same old spot, doing the same old things which is going to be your destiny forever. It is not like you hate it, you feel blessed for the life you got but, as they say, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

“You don’t sound as excited as I thought you’d be,” he notices, brows furrowing in confusion and you force yourself to smile for him.

“I think the fatigue of the day is finally getting to me,” you explain and it is only half a lie since you do feel like you could go to sleep and wake up in a week time.

“You should probably go to sleep, you must be exhausted,” Jeongguk suddenly says, the hand that was behind your back slightly brushing your skin, successfully awakening the sparks within your stomach.

“No, it’s ok, I don’t want to.”

“Soohyun, Jeongguk is right, you must be spent and it’s not like you can sleep in tomorrow morning. I’ll take you home.”

“I said no, and you can’t make me if I don’t want to.”

“Why are you acting like such a baby?” Your brother scoffs, standing up to place his hands on his hips, ready to fight you on your decision.

“I’m not acting like a baby, you are treating me like one! I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions.”

You stand up as well, mimicking his pose to get a point across. You don’t really understand why you are suddenly compelled to pick up a fight with him and a part of you fears it is due to those dark and terrible feelings you have been experiencing all night.

“I’m just trying to take care of you,” he says, defeated as he looks at you with a confused look so deep it makes you laugh a bitter laugh.

“If you wanted to do that you should have returned sooner.”

Your words cut through the air just like your magic cut through the Sea Wasp’s skin and you move past your brother, unable to hold his gaze now that you have hurt his feelings.

But, of course, your brother has always been quite the stubborn one and, as you turn your back on him, he’s quick to grasp your wrist and turn you around.

“I know you’ve been worried and hurt but do I really deserve to be treated like this?”

“No, of course not,” your voice trembles and before you can stop yourself there are tears striking your cheeks and it is the most humiliating thing you have ever done in front of so many people and it makes you wish you could turn magically invisible.

“I’m sorry I don’t even know why I’m so mad at you...” you confess, shaking your head as you look up to the ceiling, trying to stop the flow of tears.

“It’s just that you have done so many things without me and... what have I done, really? You saw all these places we wanted to see together and I know I’ll never get the chance and I know it’s childish of me but...” you trail off, loudly breathing in to calm down the rampant beating of your heart, “It feels like you’re moving on without me... no, it’s not that. It’s like everyone is moving on with their lives and I’m still here, waiting for all of you, stuck.”

Your brother’s arms are warm around your body and your muscles relax in the embrace you hadn’t realized you so desperately needed.

“I know, little bug, but you are wrong. Yes, I travel the world but you save people’s lives! So many of the people inside this room are here because of you.”

Jimin smiles one of his warm smiles and he takes your face in his hands, gathering your hot tears with his thumbs whilst stroking your cheeks in the process.

“I didn’t forget our plans to travel the world together and I swear to God I will let you see all of it, even if that can happen only once we’re old and wrinkly, I’ll do it.”

The thought makes you chuckle because you have never seen an old pirate embarking to see the world but it is a thought that warms your heart and brings back some hope for the future, no matter how far it may be.

“Is it a promise?” You ask, voice small and hoarse and he jokingly scoffs at you.

“Have I ever broken a promise?”

“No, you didn’t.” You concede, smiling brightly at him.

“Ok, so now you will let me be the big brother and take care of you,” he says, placing a hand above your head to brush the hair away from your face, “And you will be a good girl and go to sleep so you can be well rested tomorrow and protect our lovely Island.”

“Jimin, I already told you I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“You will always be a kid to me, little bug, you’re my baby sister.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead and you can’t find it in yourself to fight him on it. It is, after all, quite endearing to see him act like this, like the brother he was before he decided to be a pirate and join Jeongguk’s crew.

“I can walk her home,” as if on cue, Jeongguk suddenly speaks and you realize only then that he must have seen and heard everything, being there the entire time.

“You should stay, your father seems a bit drunk.” Jeongguk motions his head to the side and you follow his movement to find your dad laughing at a table, as red as a tomato from all the beer he has gulped down all night.

“Ugh, yes, ok, I should go and take care of that.”

You chuckle as your brother quickly walks to your father and take a glance at Jeongguk only to find his gaze fixed on you. There is this light of endearment in his eyes that makes your heart leap in your chest and hope blossom like flowers between your ribs.

The air is brisk outside the crowded Inn and you shiver as soon as it hits your skin and still-mildly wet clothes. It’s something that Jeongguk seems quit to catch on for, a mere few seconds after you’re both walking on the street, his jacket sits atop your shoulders, warming up your cold body.

You look up at him, a small smile on your lips and he diverts his gaze, scratching the back of his head as he always does when he’s shy about something. How cute, you think and your smile spreads wider.

The rest of the walk up to your house is pretty quiet but the silence is not heavy between you, in fact, it’s almost pleasant. His sole proximity to your own body makes you feel happy and secure and this feeling of being protected just by being right next to the person you love is something you have been akin to feel again for a very long time.

You almost wish you had the power to stop time or at least stretch it at your will for the walk to your street seems to be far too quick and you seriously don’t want to already depart from him. Not when you’re finally alone with him.

Mirroring your thoughts, Jeongguk stops a few steps away from your door and turns toward you with a look on his face you find yourself unable decipher.

He’s troubling his bottom lip with his teeth and nervousness sparks up within your stomach at the sight.

“I want to thank you again, for today,” he says, his voice a bit unsure because he is a terrible liar, he has ever been, and you instantly know it is not what he actually wants to say but you feign ignorance, deciding to allow him to take his time to come out of his shell. Jeongguk has always been a nice kid, very friendly on the out front but deep down, he has always been a guarded person, someone that has a hard time letting other people in and see what truly lies inside.

“It’s my duty,” you say with a little laugh, trying to lighten up the mood but he shakes his head slightly, his gaze fixing on the night sky as he searches for his next words.

“You went beyond your duty and we both know it.”

“Maybe... but I like to think you would have done the same for me.”

Your reply makes his eyes travel back to you and breath gets stuck within your lungs as you notice for the first time how astonishingly beautiful they look when the moonlight is reflected in them.

“Of course I would have,” he admits, trapping his bottom lip under his teeth again.

“And I guess this is the right time to say that I’m sorry about Spitfire,” you add, your neck sinking into your shoulders in shame. In the attempt to save their lives you have destroyed the only thing Jeongguk held dear to his heart.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s just a ship.”

“We both know that is not true. I know how much you cared about it, I know it was your father’s legacy.”

You know he is trying to be nice but you understand how it must feel for him and you do deserve to feel the pang of guilt when you think about it. If someone were to destroy something that your mother has left to you, you would be heartbroken and you know that is what Jeongguk must be feeling right now, amongst many other things.

“Yes, but a ship can be repaired or, at worst, be remade. Humans lives cannot.”

His warm hands are firm around your shoulders as he says those words but all you seem to be able to focus on is how close his lips are to your own and how desperately you want to kiss them. Which makes you wonder, is Jeongguk a secret sorcerer that has put a spell on you? For you swear to the heavens you have never been this vulnerable and affected by someone in your entire life.

“Ok,” you reply, voice small because even if you do understand his point, you can’t immediately cancel the guilt lodged within your heart. Sadly, it doesn’t work like that.

“I have a favor to ask,” he blurts out and his cheeks turn the color of ripe strawberries once he realizes he has now trapped himself in a situation where he has to put his heart on the line.

“Of course, anything.”

“I don’t want to keep you awake any longer, you need rest and it’s not like you can ditch work tomorrow but I really think we should talk and...” He trails off, brows furrowing a little bit as he tilts his head to the side in his I’m-not-so-sure-about-this way, “Can you meet me before sun rises at our place?”

He blurts the words out and releases his grip around your shoulders in the meantime.

There is a thunderstorm of emotions flooding within you: there is the giddiness of him calling it “our place” and there is the fear for what he may say once you meet him there, there is also the hope it may be something good and you have no idea how to cope with all of them at once. So what you do is simply nod your head and smile.

“I’ll be there.”

The path that leads you to your appointment is a rather familiar one for you have walked on it what it feels like a million times. Your steps are silent as much as the city is at this unholy hour but you do not mind it: you like the peace and the quiet, the sense of time being absolutely still whilst everyone rests.

The air is cold and it prickles your skin much like when Jeongguk walked you home but, this time, there is warmness spreading within your heart in anticipation and you barely notice how it stings against the naked skin of your hands.

Even the tiredness seems to have dissipated despite the very few hours you have been able to sleep and all due to the prospect of meeting him.

When you arrive in the little expanse of green grass the spot is empty as you are used to seeing it but, this time, it all feels different.

As you look around the little garden at the verge of the woods, you see details you have never seen before. The moonlight tints everything silver and it almost feels like the grass, the trees, and even the stones radiate magic, turning everything into an ideal picture out of a storybook.

You notice for the first time how the lilies shimmer in the night time, looking like little beacons for who ventures the woods beyond the bushes.

You have been here many times in very different hours of the days but you usually see this place when the sun has just disappeared over the horizon and your work day is done.

But is not only the light making everything look completely different but also the promise that this time, as you pray for him to return, he will actually appear in his flesh and bones and not just like a fragment of your imagination.

You sit on a rock in the middle of the garden and look up to the sky to watch the stars, still partially visible as the night closes to its end.

You have shared so many memories with Jeongguk within this garden, the first of which you will never forget. You had always known he had a place where he went by himself when he needed some peace and quiet when all he wanted was to be away from the world and, honestly, a couple of times you had tried to follow him but ended up giving up every single time. Somehow, it didn’t feel right even when you were a kid to violate his personal space to such an extent.

The first time he let you in to his private place and deepest secret it was the day your mother died. You were wrecked, a sobbing mess, and you were fed up with people and their empty words so that day, Jeongguk had entered your room and without saying a single word he had took your hand and guided you to his secret garden.

“You can come here whenever you need to be alone, but don’t tell anyone.” He had said with the flattest voice he could muster and you had been grateful then as much as you feel right now. It was one of the rare occasions in which Jeongguk had let his guard down, allowing you to peek through the cracks of his mask.

The other memory you will never forget is the last one you shared with him here.

It was the night before his long departure and something inside of you told you he was going to be there and, not very surprisingly, he was standing right there, looking as beautiful as ever.

There was silence for the longest of times, both of you unable to say something that would matter just in case he didn’t make it back and in that quietness, it was very hard for you to hide the little sobs that escaped your lips.

You didn’t want to say goodbye, not to him, not to your brother and they both knew it and that was why you weren’t going to say those words. They had a finality ring to it and you wanted to believe they’d come back to you, as healthy as ever.

At that time, he had been the one breaking the silence first.

“It’s going to be ok, just try not to worry too much.”

His words had made you crumble and in a matter of seconds, you were tightly secured within his embrace, sobbing on his shirt. He held you there until your tears ran dry and he held you for a little longer, caressing your head to soothe the ache within your heart.

“I think this is my best chance to say these words so hear me out, ok?”

His whisper hit your head and you nodded, moving inside his arms to look into his eyes.

“I have loved you for a very long time, Soohyun, and I promise I will come back to you, so wait for me, ok?”

Those words you had dreamed of many many times you had never expected to actually hear and yet, there you were, heart beating triumphantly in your chest and astonishment spreading through your body like a cascade into a river.

“Say something, please?” His voice was small as he spoke his next words and you realized only then that you had been silent all along, too focused on the violent burst of your emotions to utter a single word.

“I didn’t know you... I would have... Why are you telling me now before your departure? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Why? Would something be different now?”

“Of course it would!” You looked at him, astonished. Was he really that oblivious to your feelings? You thought he had known all along and that his silence was a sign of them not being reciprocated.

“I didn’t... I didn’t realize you were...” his words trailed off and you shook your head, too bewildered to say more.

“Fuck it, there is no point in holding back, then.”

He muttered these words more to himself than to you and the next second his lips were sealed on top of yours.

His mouth was as soft as you always imagined it to be and it was warm against yours, gentle but passionate and you let go of all your inhibitions as he kissed you deeper, just like he desperately wanted to do a gazillion times.

You parted your lips for him and his tongue touched your own, eliciting a sigh from you that seemed to only add wood to the already raging fire.

You kissed and kissed for long minutes until your breath was ragged and your lips were swollen and yet, you wanted more. So much more.

“Is that a yes, then? You will wait for me?”

“Of course I will, Jeongguk, I’ve been waiting for you for so many years.”

Your memories are cut off by the sound of steps approaching and you jump on your feet, excitedly looking forward to watch him arrive.

Drenched in moonlight he is like a vision or an angel fallen to Earth and you find it impossible to look away from him. His cherry hair shine like the most delicious fruit they remind you of, his eyes glint with the silver light of the night and his beautiful rosy lips are stretched into one of his dazzling smiles.

He stops on his tracks to look at you and you feel your face turning considerably hotter under his scrutiny but his smile seems to stretch even further and so do your lips, mimicking his own.

“There you are,” he says, slowly approaching you and you nervously tug some hair strands between your ears, looking as bashful as you ever did in front of him.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” he says, stopping right in front of you, so close you can almost feel the warmness his body radiates.

“You didn’t, I just arrived, too.”

He tilted his head to the side and chuckled.

“That’s not true, I saw you sitting on that rock. You looked deep in thought.”

You divert your gaze at his words, feeling your insides twitch painfully at the idea of him watching you while you definitely sported the stupidest grin ever on your face.

“I was just remembering something,” you whisper trying to act nonchalantly and hide the fact that you are deeply embarrassed.

“It must have been a nice memory, considering your smile.”

You look up at him, gulping down heavily as you muster the courage to speak your next words.

“It was. I was thinking about our last time here together.”

“So you remember that night.”

“Of course I do... Did you think I wouldn’t?” Dread is quick to infiltrate your heart at the prospect that maybe he was hoping you wouldn’t, that he wouldn’t have to explain to you that his feelings haven’t come back with him on the Island.

“I wasn’t sure you would... Two years is a long time and I didn’t know if your feelings were still the same as back then.”

“Well, mine are. I kept my promise... did you?” Your voice turns into a small whisper as you dare to ask that question and his features morph into an expression of astonishment for it probably never occurred to him that you could misunderstand the nature of his inquiry.

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t,” he confesses, suddenly cupping your cheek with his warm hand with a look so full of affection you almost feel like you’re going to melt under his gaze.

“I wanted to meet you tonight to know if... if you wanted to be, you know, official or something.”

“You’re asking me to be your girlfriend, Jeongguk?”

“I guess I am,” he chuckles, his eyes betraying his nervousness as he speaks those words and you smile back to him, feeling as radiant as the sun itself.

“Then I guess the answer would be yes.”

The moment the words leave your mouth his lips are atop your own to claim them, just like he did two years prior to this very moment.

The contact of his lips against yours feels like an explosion of fireworks within your chest and it is utterly addicting.

Your fingers trace the warm skin of his neck and move up to lose themselves in the tangles of his hair.

You part your lips and sneak your tongue out to taste his mouth further, deeper. He grunts within your kiss and you lap at his tongue, playing with its rough surface until he is moaning between your lips.

The sound awakens desire within your stomach and far more south then you care to admit but he must be quick to notice for his hands move to cup your bottom cheeks, pushing you flat against his hips.

“I’ve dreamed of kissing you every single night on that goddamn ship,” he says, voice hoarse with evident arousal.

“Me too,” your lips stretch into a smile as you brush your nose against his, teasing him until he fiercely kisses your lips anew.

Kissing Jeongguk feels like a hot summer day and a nice refreshing drink on the shore; it feels like a hot bath during the coldest winter days; it feels like the exhilaration that comes with the cold rain falling on your warm skin.

His lips leave your own to latch onto the tender skin around your jawline and further south onto your neck, eliciting soft gasps and sighs out of you.

“There is something I bought for you when we were away,” he says, still pecking your skin as you tilt your head to the side in undeniable pleasure.

He brushes his teeth against your chin, jokingly biting the supple flesh until you are laughing, fighting to push him away with your hands flat against his chest.

He lets go of you with a soft chuckle and focuses his attention on one of his pockets, concealing the present he has brought back for you.

The package feels soft against your hands as he gives it to you, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth in nervousness, and you carefully pry it open.

The necklace nicely settled inside the box is absolutely stunning and you stare at it, mouth agape, for it is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen and owned, for that matter.

Leaves of shiny silver encircle a core of iridescent nacre and you brush your fingers against the fine materials, unable to tear your gaze away from it.

“Do you like it?”

His voice is soft against your ear and it is only then that you realize he has moved behind your back, his hands slightly brushing against your hips.

“J-Jeongguk...” You gulp down heavily and force yourself to look away from your present and up to his face, “It’s so beautiful, I don’t even think I deserve something like this.”

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, even for just one day,” he whispers, shaking his head as he takes the necklace from your hands to tie it around your neck.

You turn around to face him, a sheepish smile on your lips as you brush your fingers against the necklace now hanging from your neck, shining in the night light.

“How does it look?”

“Absolutely perfect.”

His words are followed by a searing kiss that steals your breath away and makes your knees buckle, all tongue and teeth and the lewd sounds it produces in the silence of the night.

“I need you to tell me something, but you have to be completely honest,” he says once your lips part, his heavy breath mingling with your own.

“I will.”

“I’ll probably leave soon again,” he licks his lips as he says those words, looking away from your face for a brief moment and you gulp down, slightly nodding your head while trying to ignore the sting his words produced, “Will you still wait for me if I do?”

You tilt your head upwards, brushing his nose with yours in the process.

“I’d wait all eternity for you, Jeon Jeongguk.”  

Your words seem to spark a fire within him for the next moment you are flushed against a tree, trapped between the rough cortex and his much softer and warm body.

His fingers cup your cheeks and guide your face forward until you can meet his mouth and kiss him with a passion equal to his own.

The minutes stretch into nothingness until all you are aware of his you and him, finally together like you wanted to be for so many sleepless nights.

Your fingers are fast to find the buttons of his shirt even if your lids are tightly closed and not even the quivering of your hands can stop you from unbuttoning every single one of them.

Truthfully, bold is not something you have ever been but after so many years of frustrated needs and yearning for a boy you thought you’d never have, there is no more place for bashfulness. Everything, even rationality, is subdued by the overwhelming need to feel him pressed flushed against your skin and even further, sheathed inside of you.

The buttons of his shirt come undone easily under your fingers and you open your eyes to marvel at the sculpted muscles of his torso.

Your lips latch onto the tender skin, kissing and biting and then licking the pain away until he his covered in love bites and trails of your saliva.

You follow the outline of his ribs to torment the tender skin of his abdomen, sculpted like a Greek statue and furthermore down, where the little hair on his flat stomach meet the hem of his leather pants.

Jeongguk sighs and gasps under your touch and it is music to your ears, pushing you to move forward until he is crumbling down and screaming out your name for everyone to hear.

His pants fall down to his feet on their own accord as soon as you unzip them and you stare at his sex, barely covered by his underwear.

There is no room to conceal the little twitch of his cock as you blow hot air a few inches from his underwear and the little reaction makes a smile spread on your lips.

Your mouth opens as you look up at him, shaped in a perfect “O” that you quickly press against his clothed sex, relishing in the way he grunts at the sensation of your tongue, firmly pressed against his erection.

Your fingers cup his bottom cheeks, your nails digging into the flash as you push his underwear down, your eyes trailed on the way his cock bounces back on his abdomen, fully erected and ready for you.

Your hands must be pretty cold on his hot skin and he shivers at your touch, goosebumps forming on his skin as you encompass his length with your fingers.

Your mouth kisses the soft skin of his sex, inch after long inch, and he whimpers at the pleasurable sensation it sparks within him, despite it not being quite the touch he so desperately desires.

“Have you ever thought of my mouth around your cock?” You ask, eyes locked on his face to notice every single twitch of his features.

“Ugh, yes.”

“Have you ever touched yourself thinking about me, like this?”

He whimpers as your tongue trails along the expanse of his shaft and you smirk, your free hand reaching his balls to slightly squeeze them.

He hisses at the sudden contact, head falling forward as his mouth opens into a silent moan.

“S-so many times,” he admits, his eyes fixed on you as you open your mouth again but, this time, it is not to pose a question but rather to answer a silent one.

His cock twitches on your tongue as you slowly drag your face forward, welcoming his length within your mouth inch after inch, fighting against your gag reflex as his head hits the back of your throat.

Your eyes lock on his gaze transfixed on the sight of you on your knees, with his member on your mouth and feeling as real as he always dreamed it to be.

Batting your lashes to feign innocence you move your head backward while keeping your tongue completely flat and pressed against the vein on the underside of his shaft. He shivers at the movement and you bob your head forward, picking up a slow pace that has him whimpering in the span of a few minutes.

Your teeth slightly graze around the tender skin as your lips squeeze around him, allowing you to suck his length hard.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters under his breath, his abdomen contracting as he struggles to keep himself silent.

Your free hand cups his balls anew and you start bobbing your head at a quite faster pace, turning him into a whimpering and panting mess until you fear he may come soon inside your mouth if you keep going further and a part of you would relish in it but, the other part of you wants to drag this moment however possible, stretch it to the point you are both too lost in the desperate need for release to keep going any longer.

Your lips close around his angry-red head, sleek with a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum and your insides pleasantly twitch at the sound of his needy whine and the way his cock twitches with the sudden loss of your mouth around it.

“You’re not allowed to come just yet, baby,” you whisper atop his wet member, purposefully blowing hot air on his skin, making him shudder at the sensation.

“We waited two long years for this, we can wait a little longer, don’t you think?” Your voice sounds innocent to your ears but the twisted smirk atop your lips suggests fairly otherwise and he groans at the sight of you, lips swollen and covered in spit, saliva trailing down your chin.

He emits a guttural sound and before you know it you are standing on your own two feet again, trapped against the same rough tree with his mouth stealing your breath away.

His erection is trapped between your bodies and you can feel its heat on your stomach, awakening a similar one between your legs and it’s that thought that makes your mouth open, allowing a sigh to escape your parted lips.

His mouth has turned ravenous, seeking your own with a desperate need that mirrors the ache between his wonderfully toned hips and when his teeth attack your bottom lip, biting the skin until it’s almost painful, you whimper out his name and roll your hips atop his own, rewarding him with the friction he so desperately seeks.

“Ugh, you’re driving me insane, Soohyun,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck as he moves onto the next target to leave unequivocal marks there for everyone to see.

His hands brush against your hips and move further south until they meet the supple curves of your bottom cheeks, cupping them to elicit a whimper out of your parted mouth.

His fingers trail up to seek the zip of your dress and you arch your back under his touch, granting him an easier access to your back and, therefore, pending nudity.

His fingers are delicate as they brush against your feverish skin and a shudder travels through your body like a jolt of electricity as he drags the fabric of your dress downward, stripping you naked inch after inch.

His eyes seem to burn like liquid acid and you feel the blood rush all to your face under his intense gaze, fixed on every ridge and curve of your body.

As the fabric moves past your breasts he loudly inhales air, his fingers discarding the hem of your dress to favor the feeling of your naked skin against the palm of his hands.

His mouth comes next, lapping the tender flesh where his fingers cannot reach and fire erupts within your body, setting every atom you are made of aflame.

His kisses are far slower and delicate on your chest and around your hardening nipples but far more passionate and definitely far more intimate.

You whimper out his name and he opens his mouth to encompass one of your nipples and suck hard on the flushed skin.

Your head hits the cortex of the tree behind your back as your eyes close in utter bliss and he seems to relish in the achievement for his movements turn bolder, ardent with the desire to please and to be pleased.

His fingers brush against your ribs and you shiver at the contact, your muscles tensing in expectation as his hands latch around your dress again to drag it to your feet.

You don’t have the time to protest over the way he discards your dress unceremoniously throwing it somewhere far away within the garden for, his mouth mimics the way you just teased him a few minutes ago and encompasses your still covered sex.

His tongue is flat against your core and even through the fabric you can feel how warm it is and, most importantly, how amazingly good it feels between your legs. Right where it belongs, you think and the thought, despite coming from yourself, makes all the blood rush to your face, turning it feverish hot to the touch.

Oh, how many times have you imagined something like this to happen? How many times have you desired it and kept yourself awake at night to quench that desire at the best of your abilities?

But when Jeongguk bites down your underwear to drag it down and quickly after laps at your wet core, you realize that reality is far better than your lacking imagination.

He hums atop your sex and the sound reverberates through your core, making you shiver and clench on nothing but thin air. You can feel his lips twitch into a smirk and you whine in protest, your hand reaching the top of his head to tug at his hair.

His eyes refocus on your face and you give him a pleading look that he welcomes with mirth in his eyes and a lewd lick of his tongue upon his lips, evidently sleek with your desire.

His fingers cup your ass anew and he uses that hold to guide your right leg upwards, anchoring it around his shoulder to grant him an easier access to your aching core.

His mouth locks onto the little bundle of nerves atop your slit and you whimper as soon as he envelops it with his soft rosy lips, sucking on it as if he were trying to milk it out. It’s a strong sensation you have never experienced before and it feels like both a blessing and a curse for it makes you want more, oh so much more.

Just as if he has been reading your thoughts, Jeongguk finds his next victim in your dripping mound and this time his tongue is not gentle nor tentative. It is passionate as if he were kissing your mouth, it’s ravenous and ardent with desire and it makes you mewl for him even if you try to be quiet.

Who knew Jeon Jeongguk could use his tongue like that and oh, you think, who knew anyone could use a tongue like that. It feels like being sent straight upon a cloud and it makes you feel like you could live the rest of your life being just like this: naked and utterly loved, desired, cherished.

His fingers are a nice surprise as his tongue swirls on your little mound again while his digits intrude your sex, stretching your walls so pleasantly you can’t help but sigh in response.

The lewd sounds your sex emits as he drags his fingers in and out of you make blood rush to your ears and arousal drip down your core further.

His two digits press inside of you, curling and scissoring until you are quivering at the edge of your release and it is in the exact moment you are about to snap that he retreats, an evil smirk atop his swollen glistening lips.

“J-Jeongguk,” you whimper out, your lips trembling at the sudden denial of your release and he simply shrugs his shoulders, a mischievous look on his beautiful features.

“You’re not allowed to come just yet, baby,” he mirrors your own words and you grunt in frustration, shooting him an offended look that he welcomes with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry, my love, I’m going to make you come very, very, soon” his voice lowers as he gets up from his position to kiss your lips and mix the taste of his mouth with the one of your pleasure. You find out it is not a combination you hate, in fact, it is quite endearing and if you could only taste one thing for the rest of your life, this would be a very nice choice.

“How long should I drag this, baby?” He asks, voice hoarse as he moves his hips towards yours, his erection gliding against your sex in a way that makes you shudder in pure anticipation, “Since we waited for two long years, how much more should I wait?” He keeps mirroring your words, teasing you with your own weapon but oh, had you overestimated your capability to resist a few moments ago.

“P-please,” you whimper out, arching your back to meet his sex and he grunts at the sensation, softly biting down your lobe in fain vengeance.

“Mh? You want something, baby?”

Oh, how he loves to be a tease. The very shy boy that was so nervous to confess his love has been completely replaced by this much more confident Jeongguk and it’s a stark difference that makes him all the more endearing.

His kisses turn to pecks along your jawline and down your neck and, even if you want to fight it and gain control back over the situation, you find yourself incapable of doing so and quickly crumble under his touch.

“Ye-s, I want you to fuck me, Jeongguk,” your voice trembles as you speak those lewd words but they do work wonders on your lover for he grunts and lifts you up with one swift movement.

Out of instinct, your legs anchor themselves between his back and you find yourself completely flushed against the tree and a part of you knows it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker once the adrenaline has died down and you find your ass scratched beyond repair but, as his length glides between your dripping folds, everything turns white and meaningless.

A sigh escapes his lips as he pushes his head inside of you, his gaze fixed on the way his cock starts to disappear past your folds and deep within you.

Your arms are locked behind his neck and you tug on his hair, forcing him to look into your eyes as he pushes himself deeper.

You have had sex before but everything feels different now. It feels like making love, true love, and it feels like this because it is Jeongguk and you have never felt like this for anyone else that wasn’t him, even if you desperately tried.

Looking right into his eyes with your noses brushing together almost brings tears to your eyes because you have never known a happiness quite like this one, right here.

“I love you,” you whisper on his lips and he smiles one of his precious smiles, his face quickly hiding in the crook of your neck so he can plant soft kisses there.

“I love you, too, more than I will ever be able to express.” His confession makes your heart leap into your chest and you hug him closer to your body, sighing as he pushes himself further within your sex as if it were a promise to cherish you and love you for all the years to come.

His eyes refocus on yours as he drags his length out of you to push himself in with one swift movement, relishing in the way your insides clench nicely around him, squeezing his cock in a way that is bound to make him come undone very quickly.

You did dream of this moment countless of times but even in your wildest imagination it never happened somewhere public, somewhere people could hear or see but God, does it feel absolutely perfect to just share this moment in this place, where it all began.

His pace is slow inside of you, aimed for you two to be able to savor this moment for as long as possible, even despite the undoubted burning desire that demands to be quenched within the both of you.

In the slow drag of his hips, you feel the wish to make this moment perfect and memorable so that you will forever remember this moment and cherish it deep in your heart.

The pleasure builds nicely between your legs even with his slow pace and you find yourself inching forward to kiss the tender skin of his jawline. His sighs are music to your ears and you relish in every single sound that comes from his delicious mouth.

Time has stretched and stopped all around you, losing its meaning until your eyes can catch on how the sky has turned leaden in the meantime.

It is with utter surprise that you register the sound of thunders coming from within the woods, clearly aiming towards the garden and furthermore to the sea.

When your eyes land on the sky again you catch glimpses of lightning fending its surface and then illuminating the little expanse of green and your bodies, still tightly tangled together.

At last, the rain arrives in a cold and strong pour that cools the flushed skin of your naked bodies.

“Fuck, we need to hurry,” he whispers atop your lips with urgency right before stealing them with a quick kiss.

Making love against a tree whilst looking into each others’ eyes, a languid pace set between your legs had seemed romantic and exciting but the raging storm all around you turns his pace faster and rougher.

You would have loved for the moment to last longer but as he starts battering your sex with all his strength, all his desperation, you find yourself tightening your grip around him to meet his pace with your hips.

“D-don’t stop,” you whimper, stuttering in what feels like a weird combination of pleasure and coldness.

The raindrops gather in your hair, on your eyelashes and atop his kissable lips and while seems to become heavier under its force you keep finding it impossible to pry your body away from his. Jeongguk breathes on your skin, his wet forehead touching yours and your heart leaps in your chest for right in this moment he is so utterly yours.

You moan for him as his lips attack your neck and he groans in response whilst lapping and sucking the raindrops gathered on your skin, right in the space between your clavicle and your shoulders.

The sounds of your intercourse fill the garden and not even the nature’s cries can’t conceal his pants against your neck nor the sound of his balls hitting your ass as he reaches deeper within you and not even the way your sex squelches around his cock. Somehow, the storm seems to work as an amplifier, turning the sounds greater and longer and the excitement building within your belly seems to turn into blazing fire.

“F-fuck, this won’t do,” he hisses in your ear and you are given almost no time to register the shift before your feet are suddenly hitting the ground and you are demanded to keep yourself standing again.

“Hold on to the tree, baby,” he instructs, his hands guiding your body until you are turned around, your eyes fixing on the infinite looking stretch of woods ahead rather than his lovely face.

A tiny drop of disappointment finds its way through the excitement for you desperately wanted to look into his eyes as he came but, that second of doubt and regret is quickly erased the moment is cock is lodged again within you, hitting your pleasure spot with such force your legs quiver.

You moan out loud for him, head tilting back and ass sticking out for him to grab and guide against his hips.

“Yes, just like that, baby girl.”

The little and quite endearing pet name that escapes his lips makes your insides twitch and your walls contract and oh, how nice his voice sounds as he grunts for you, taken aback by how tight your walls feel encompassing his cock.

You tilt your head backward, seeking his gaze so you can still watch pleasure morph his features and you take particular gratification in the way his mouth shapes into a perfect ‘o’ as you push into him, forcing his pace to speed up and meet your own.

Where once there was silence and soft whispers, little grunts and small pants now there are moans and mewls and smacks on your already battered ass cheeks.

“Baby, I’m so close,” he grunts as you walls squeeze around him again, your bottom lip trapped under your teeth in the effort to keep yourself stable whilst pushing into him.

“Will you come all over my pretty pussy?”

Your voice and words sound almost foreign to you, never before spoken in such a salacious tone but oh do they work wonders on his already rattled mind.

His digits turn almost bruising as they latch onto your hips, forcing you to stand still as he pounds into you faster and rougher and you almost lose your balance as the head of his cock focuses on your pleasure spot as if it were a target waiting to be shot down.

“Ungh, right there, Jeongguk,” you whimper out and if he were determined before, now hitting that one spot turns into a mission he has no intention to fail.

Pleasure is something you have experienced before this moment, you are not new to the concept of orgasm nor to how blissful it feels like yet, the sensation that builds inside of you, between your legs and up into your mind is something you have only imagined before, utterly desired yet never received.

Never until you are screaming and whimpering out his name, your legs quivering as the orgasm sweeps all thoughts aside and steals your breath and vision away.

You are barely aware of how your walls spasmodically contract around him or how his cock twitches inside of you until you feel his hips come to a halt and realize that it’s his hot seed that is filling you up to the brim.

When he pulls his length out of your soaked and swollen sex you can feel his cum trailing down your legs and you squeeze your thighs together, trying to hold on to the sensation of a part of him being held inside of you.

As the orgasm washes over you in slow tidal waves you feel your body relax because this is not a mere fragment of your imagination, all of this has not been a dream. Everything, you, him, your love, it’s all real and as you turn around to face him, his mouth is quick to seek your own and you kiss him back with all the bursting love inside of you that you are able to express.

The storm rumbles loud in your ears and as the downpour turns angrier you are made aware again of your setting and you’re forced to break away from the kiss, the coldness of the water almost unbearable now that you have nothing else to distract you.

You move as fast as you can, slipping inside your drenched clothes at the best of your abilities as hysterical laughter erupts from your mouth as you struggle to escape the storm’s clutches.

Jeongguk is quickly by your side, hugging your shoulders with one of his strong arms and, on his cue, you both run for your lives, seeking the warmness of a roof atop your heads.

The sun shines brightly up in the cerulean sky and you close your eyes for a moment,

Relishing in how the spring rays nicely warm up your skin.

It has been five months since your brother and Jeongguk have made their way back home and you are now standing in that same spot on the sand, looking at the sea with emotions that seem to mirror the ones from a few months ago: the fear of losing them to the sea and the hope of having them back soon inside your arms.

This time, though, you are not standing there to welcome them back but, instead, you are about to see them off.

Spitfire quietly sways in the harbor, waiting for its Captain orders to move onto greater adventures but Jeongguk is evidently not quite ready to leave just yet.

In fact, in his eyes you can read the uneasiness of his departure and, despite the glint of excitement you can still see shining there like it used to do at the prospect of grand journeys around the Seven Seas, you are sad to notice that the uncertainty is far more prominent.

Your brother takes your hand into his, giving it a little kiss as a promise to be back as quickly as he can and with a look to his best friend, he leaves to join the rest of the crew.

You have said your goodbyes last night, crying a little into his shoulder, and you have made a promise to both yourself and to him: you will not cry today.

You will not cry because tears would make it look and feel like an everlasting goodbye but this, this will be a “temporary leave”, as Jimin likes to call it.

Jeongguk is troubling his bottom lip with his teeth and you offer him a gentle smile, taking his hands into your own.

“Don’t make that face, love, you’re going to have so much fun all over the world,” you assure him, and truthfully, you speak those words to calm your heart as well, “And you will make many memories so you can tell me all about them when you get back.”

He chuckles lightly at your words, shaking his head as he finally looks into your eyes.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“So they say,” you retort, a knowing smile on your lips as you take a step closer to kiss the tip of his nose in that way that makes him giggle and, surely, it works this time as well and you relish in how cute his scrunched up face looks.

“I promise I’m coming back very soon,” he whispers once the mirth dies down and the seriousness of his departure falls between you with all its heavy intensity.

“I know, I trust you.”

“I wanted to return sooner last time too, but I also wanted to live free and make stupid decisions and all of that,” he laughs to himself as he recalls moments foreign to you that have shaped him in the man that he is today, “But this time I have an incentive to come back home sooner and I will, I promise on my heart.”

“Jeongguk,” you let go of his hands to cup his cheeks and lightly peck his lips a couple of times to both soothe him and imprint the taste of his mouth in your taste buds, “We’ve been through this already. You don’t have to worry about me and I won’t worry about you.”

You smile atop his cherry lips and he mirrors your expression, sighing deeply as he tries to let go of the foul feelings in his heart and the bad thoughts in his mind.

“Remember, this is not a farewell, this is just a tiny goodbye.”

His mouth seeks your own and you share your last passionate kiss for a very long time. Tongue and teeth and lewd sounds and sighs are all you can hear on the shore even though you know there are people around you, your father among them, and that they’re all probably looking at you. Still, you do not care.

“I love you so bloody much, Soohyun, don’t forget that, ok?”

“I won’t,” you smile, ruffling his hair like you used to do when you were both little kids and he was being stubborn or grumpy, “And I love you too, silly.”

He grumbles at your nickname for him but you know he secretly enjoys it for, once he starts walking away from you a big smile is spread on his lips and it warms your heart even if watching him leave stings a little still.

You watch him go until he disappears on the ship, yelling orders to his crew so that they can sail while the wind is still good, allowing them to leave Northern Claw and the dangers of its Sea.

You stand on your spot until Spitfire is nothing but a black dot in an expanse of infinite blue and it is only then that you let some tears fall on your cheeks because, despite putting on a strong facade, being without him feels like getting your lungs squeezed until all air is out and you cannot breathe in anymore.

You hear the Vast Sea roaring with its creatures lurking under its surface and your hands fly to your belly alongside with your gaze.

A small smile spreads on your lips and you lovingly caress your tummy in a way you believe to be soothing.

“Shh, let the Sea grumble all it wants, my love, when Dad is going to come back we will be ready for him and we will be strong enough, the both of us.”

Your eyes gaze back to the Sea as it did for years now and where once there was uncertainty and fear now there is only courage and faith in your own power. You are strong enough, you will be even stronger next time you’ll have to face the monsters because by then, you won’t be alone anymore.

Your daughter kicks excitedly inside of you and you smirk because you can already tell, she has her father’s temper.

Copyright © 2018 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. 

[9uk]

Let Me Stay Close To You : part 3

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 4.7k

⌲ genre : angst, pinch of fluff

⌲ warnings : battling of demons and mild suggestive terms, mentions of torture, other than that enjoy.

⌲ a/n : hehe hope you guys enjoy this, it’s kinda draggy for me (i feel) but it plays a huge role to character development. thank you all for patiently waiting, & like always, feedback is more than welcomed ;>

part two  >  part three  >  part four

“So,” She props her elbows on the countertop and begins, raising her cheeky brows and lips curling up in mischief. You aimlessly scroll through your dusty twitter feed, nothing in particular that lures your undivided attention to it.

Tossing your phone onto the couch, you grab to hug a pillow as you switch on the television instead, and absent-mindedly wait for your roommate to finish her sentence.

Sooyoung, however, has quickly spun around with her back facing you, placing all attention on the pot of boiling soup on the stove without a word—pretending that she never said a word in the first place.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you thought you could be aid to remind her of where she left off just a few seconds ago.

“Um, carry on..?” You shift your gaze back to the television, heading for Brooklyn 99 instinctively and almost immediately, heart craving for a series of laughing fits.

You might be too stressed out ever since the beginning of the term—today being your first day of classes—and it just couldn’t turn out any better with the unridable stench of Jeon Jungkook.

A small scream breaks into your ears and—

“Goddammit Y/N! Can’t you see that I’m trying to salvage this pumpkin soup right here?”

The loudness of her voice makes you jump, her words of despair shattering the quietness of the entire room apart.

Sooyoung looks like she is about to rip off all the hair on her head in pure frustration—with a smell akin to a burnt pumpkin soup diffuses into the living room and into your nostrils.

Oh no.

“Oh my god, hurry turn the stove off!” And the sight before you is a major trigger to your anal retention: your poor friend bends to look at the gas knob, hair almost catching on fire, hot soup on the ladle she’s holding dripping onto her wrists and the orange liquid in the pot bubbling violently, threatening to spill onto the kitchen floor—which you had just responsibly mopped earlier in the morning—at any given moment.

In sheer luck, she manages to put the life-threatening, disastrous situation under control—hand coming out to switch the stove fire off, everything settling into a silent aftermath of a warzone.

Both of your fearful and panicky states dissolve into a huge sigh of relief as the pumpkin soup retreats back to safe home— amused chuckles of disbelief erupting from the two of you.

“On the bright side, this serves as a gentle reminder for you to not ever try make soup again.” You raise your brows at her with arms crossed.

“And that I didn’t burn down the kitchen.” Sooyoung adds, smiling gleefully. You can’t believe she’s real.

“You had something to say to me?” You inquire again, blowing onto the soup that was quite surprisingly, not half bad after all the hassle.

Sooyoung narrows her eyes hard, at the bowl of pumpkin soup, trying her best to recollect her intentions of speaking just a while ago.

“Ah!” She points a finger in the air when she manages to hook onto that piece of memory floating away.

“What were you doing with Jeon Jungkook during the party yesterday?”

The question drops onto your tense body like an atomic bomb.Your hand freezes, soup dripping from the spoon back into the ceramic bowl. You open your mouth to answer Sooyoung, but how exactly were you supposed to explain that?

“Erm...” It was all you could manage while you figure out the best way to articulate your relationship with Jungkook to her.

Where should you start?

“Well..” Sooyoung leans foward on the countertop in unnecessary anticipation, looking at you with sparkly expectant eyes.

From the day you made him fall face flat to the ground?

“You see...” You drag for as long as you could, not so sure how to put it, at least in the most decent manner possible.

The thing between you and Jungkook—if it’s not obvious enough already—is a bully and a victim. There’s nothing worth bragging about that relationship.

And no, you’re definitely not trying to victimise yourself or anything of the sort. It’s a fact as clear as day that you have accepted long  ago. Or too used to belonging to the title ‘victim’ in this whole bullying situation. There’s also nothing much you can do honestly. You were destined to live life this way, having a father who has a financial fraud vandalised on his records forever, a mother who wakes up before the sun does to brew coffee for the people setting off to work— making the child of aforementioned people inferior to the child whose parents own one of the top three largest companies in the entertainment market.

You were inferior to Jeon Jungkook.

Power and money-oriented society, remember?

Something between a scoff of resentment and an unamused chuckle leaves your lips to the thought of the awful past life you have finally abandoned (sort of). But Sooyoung seems to lack the ability to interpret your tone well, eyes lighting up at the sight of your teeth.

“No way, don’t tell me you guys left the party to make out at the front porch.” She gasps in shock, eyes widening and hand flying up to cover her mouth.

No way.

You immediately deny her absolutely outrageous and almost laughable guess.

“What? No! We were just-“

Suddenly, the memories of his calloused nail-bitten fingers and soft palm on the side of your face aggressively fights to replace every brain cell that you have, causing all the pores on your skin to vibrate as you quiver at the feeling. It almost seems like it was a mere hallucination of your drunken state of mind, not until Sooyoung brings it up again in your face to remind you that it was real. It did happen. Jungkook had caressed you.

“just…” Your voice drifts off, the electricity of pretence flowing through the tiny tangled wires in your head, smoothly making their way to light up the bulb in your mind. “..talking!”

You already feel bad for lying to her.

“About making out?” Sooyoung is not one to concede defeat to your lame, clearly-made-up excuse, the picture of you and Jungkook sucking off each other’s faces sticking onto her suspicions like gum on the bottom of a shoe. The direction of her imagination is going polar opposites from your initial fear of the revelation of your devastating past—to which you softly sigh in relief to.

“About whatever you think of, detective.” You try to lighten the mood, sending a cheeky wink her way and escaping the conversation—the perfect resolution to avoid spilling the truth and fabricating more lies.

She scorns at your open answer, leaving her only to imagination to take control of her doubts out in the air, wandering freely as she sulkily stirs at her soup.

You giggle at the cute pout beginning to form on her scarlet lips and slowly drain the warm pumpkin delight from the bowl into your stomach.

You would tell this kind and lovely lady about everything—from something as simple how a Corgi barked and wagged its tail at you while on the way to campus, to your deep inner conflicts between your passion and confidence and the dire situation of your family, and how you’d really missed the way things were when you were still in pigtails playing with doll—but not the major happening in your history. 

The story of the scar on the left side of your temple was something you had never want to dig up and elaborate on to your friends. Once they have a whiff of your pitiful side, those eyes that currently look at you with admiration and adoration will very quickly turn into unwanted sympathy and abomination—and your pals will gradually drift away from your side, knowing that they can do so much better than having a true loser stick around.

So you would never disclose the truth between you and Jungkook to her. You could never do that.

Nothing felt more suffocating than standing outside an extravagant yet simple looking bungalow. The darkness of the sky cannot further accentuate the black matte walls of the exterior of this home. The hazy moonlight shines on the stagnant turquoise pool, topped off with the stationary shrubs along the perimeter of this whole compound, flaunting the estate’s overall tranquility. This house looked like it belonged to some clean freak who never steps foot in or out of it through the front door and owns about eleven Dobermans. If you were a passerby, you would have never guessed it belongs to a boy currently studying in college. You clasp your hands together, fingers locking onto one another —a little too tightly— for emotional support and courage.

His fingers lift the heavy material with ease, as he watches you through the gaps of his curtains from his bedroom. 

You were about five minutes away from meeting Jungkook. Alone in a room most likely. As the number of steps you take increases, with an angry-looking security guard escorting you on your way, you can feel your heart hammering hard against your poor ribs, teetering on the edge of rupturing out of your chest there and then.

Finally, in no less than a blink of an eye, you were in the chilly immaculate bedroom with Jungkook. You aren’t even exaggerating when you say that the man in black had practically threw you in like a fresh piece of meat flung into a lion’s den—waiting to be ferociously devoured by the beast himself. At least, that was how you felt.

The slamming of the grand double doors echoed through the room and you scan your surroundings.

 Why were you even in his bedroom?

 Did that mean he doesn’t even have a study room in this uselessly big house? 

Your eyes fall onto a small desk at the corner of the room. Yep, the both of you were going to work on that.

 Finally, they fall onto the main subject of this room, standing at the window, gazing out to the night sky. You stared longer than you wished, no that you can help it because—he looked so innocent and normal like that, watching the stars and moon quietly in appreciation. 

Your breath hitched when Jungkook suddenly turns around to face you. Releasing the curtain from his hand, they flowed close again, effectively blocking out the the pitch-black sky. He looked you in the eye, before his lips curl up into an amused grin. 

You are mirroring his emotion as well—that you’re actually alone in his room for no other reason than a homework assignment—but the limelight of amusement is stolen by the overpowering terror and anxiety. Jungkook could quite literally kill you and feed your body parts to his dogs—if he even owned one, but that isn’t the main point. The main point is that he could do anything he want to you right here and right now and his guard, instead of helping you, would probably help Jungkook lock the doors. He could easily tie you up and use you as a sex slave or hold you captive in this plain bedroom, abusing you as and when he liked.

 You hate yourself for coming, but you knew that worse could happen if you hadn’t obeyed. You feel a trace of ease when you are reminded that now, you have actual friends who would call the cops upon the realisation of your disappearance.

Stay calm and stop overthinking, gosh.

Avoiding his gaze, you begin fishing out the worksheets and your laptop from your backpack. “We should start on it-“

“No, no, no,” He waves his hand in disagreement and walks over to you. His long legs bring him across the wooden floor swiftly reaching you within a second. 

And subconsciously, your hand movements halt as you retreat a step back. 

“Before we start on that useless assignment,” You narrow your eyes fiercely at him, putting up a brave front. He exhales, “I think you have the answers to the many questions in my head right now.” 

Stunned, your eyes hastily search the white walls of the room for answers. You visited his house for nothing else but one cause—and that is to finish the planning on the whole anatomy project, leave in one piece and hopefully never to come back ever again. You weren’t here for an unwanted session of questioning—and you weren’t about to give him the answers that he wanted. You will not allow him to have you at the tip of his fingers again, for you have become a strong, firm and fearless women. Whether he had plans to slaughter the fuck out of you here, is now placed in the back of your mind for a moment.

Seeing as to how petrified you look—your whole face going pale as paper, Jungkook feels as if he’s some kind of monster to you. 

Maybe he was, but he most definitely isn’t now. 

He purely just wants you to answer a few questions of his before the both of you can start on the project—which is why he was rather confused at why you seemed so afraid of him. 

You were never like this, even when he mistreated you and committed those unscrupulous acts on you, you would show zero emotions, to only ignore him and see his entire existence as irrelevant—so why were you look so scared now that he was standing so close to you?  

Nonetheless, Jungkook wants his question marks to be depleted.

“First of all-“

“No.”

Shut. Him. Out.

“We either sit down and start the planning, or I’m leaving.”

You feel a gush of confidence breeze past you, your heart hardening and a side of you never known before appearing. Wow, did you really just stood your firm to Jeon Jungkook, the guy who bullied you for the past 4 years? A heavenly warmth of pride runs through your blood.

Jungkook is momentarily perplexed, mouth halfway open as the remaining words are stuck to his throat. He gulps and blinks repeatedly, absorbing what you had just said in disbelief—that you’ve noticed.

Call it a bipolar disorder, because you too, have no idea how your pyroclastic flow of nerves transformed into a solid indestructible mountain of rock in a snap. It was either you were too determined to protect the life you have now, or that you’re beginning to catch the smear of vulnerability in his eyes. You really have no clue.

With a tilt of his head to the side—a habit he hasn’t got rid of since highscool, be it from confusion, rage or happiness—he mumurs an approval. “E-Erm, okay.”

Success.

Parallel universe, indeed.

Nothing is going through his head right now—not as you speak and point to the various ideas you have come up with for this homework, not as you explain which idea is the best and start listing the pros and cons of it, not as you ask him to do the mindmap for the planning.

You notice that you’re speaking tons of words more than talkative, nonsensical-blabbering Jeon Jungkook, and he was being unusually quiet. Maybe he was thinking of ways on how he was going to torture you later on. True or not, you wanted a high grade on this assignment.

Be professional, the rational side of your brain puts your drifting thoughts back on track.

“Hello. Are you there.” You slap a hand so close to his face right infront of his big doe eyes, and he doesn’t even blink. He’s staring so hard at the crotch of the human body diagram you printed—probably doing it unintentionally amidst busy building sandcastles in the air—and you try not to laugh at the sight of him doing that.

“Jungkook!” You finally decide to yell in his ears and he flinches away hard, flying up from his seat.

“What! I’m right here!” He shouts back in the retaliation of being shocked, rubbing his earhole and you irresistibly laugh at his reaction.

Wait what, you laughed at Jungkook? 

This felt so…strange, yet it is a very typical interaction between two friends. Maybe that is why, solely because it is a normal conversation between the both of you—a duo that have never experienced an ordinary interaction before, other than the occasional rubber band shots and verbal attacking of your outer appearance.

Hold up, did you just say friends? Impossible.

Your bright and smiley face falls into a blank expression at the sudden realisation faster than a flash. Jungkook’s face mirrors the falling of yours too, but his features drains from something a bit more—something like actual fondness— to scepticism and worry.

Clearing your throat, you turn to face the splayed out papers on the table.

“Let’s um, start on what we’re supposed to do.”

Jungkook slowly, warily sits back down to join you, staring at the laptop screen, lost.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Namjoon would have seriously made a better project partner. Now you would have to repeat your instructions, something that you hated.

Sighing in complete impatience, you start from the top again.

“Of course you’re right here.”

Silence.

It blankets the both of you squeezing two chairs into the desk made for one, quietly doing your individual parts in utmost concentration. Add on his vigorous smashing of the keyboard and the rough flipping of the pages of the handout (because you can’t wait to get out of here.)

It wasn’t unacceptably uncomfortable, but it wasn’t particularly settling and peaceful as well. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable—when the undesirable memories of the past sporadically appears in each other’s minds—one’s heart filled with guilt and the other filled with ache. 

Up to you to figure which is who.

You are extremely thankful for how complexed and meticulous the planning of the project is, allowing the both of you to fully immerse in doing the annoying details well and answering the challenging questions.

It is also silent because—none of you had dare speak to each other unless it was involving the task at hand.

The clock ticked to ten and with the shut of both laptops and the zipping of your pencil case, the papers gathered in a neat rectangle stack_it was time to face reality again.

Jungkook breaks the silence first.

“Can I ask my questions now?”

It was weird. The way Jungkook was asking for your permission to do something as simple as firing the burning questions in his mind. If you were him, you would not even be able to stay one bit focused on the mindmap creation, only able to ponder about how the girl beside him had changed into someone…so different.

It was weird because you weren’t used to Jungkook speaking nicely (normally) to you. There was an absence of irritation and danger in the tone of his voice, which made his words seem too kind to be true. It never fails to send you into a stupor when a swear word is missing from his sentence to you. Maybe, for the better or worse, in the fleet of eight months, Jungkook has changed. Maybe, and just maybe, it was time to view him in a different light.

“Yeah, you can.” You easily give him consent.

“Okay first question, why were you sitting next to Namjoon in anatomy lecture?”

Was that really all he had wanted to ask?

You shoot him a look of bewilderment. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely did not include who you sat with in lecture.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“What-“

“You do know that he is a pervert that goes after girls whenever there’s a chance right?” Jungkook warns you, and you are at a loss for words.

Namjoon wasn’t someone like that, and you strongly believe the impression you have of him.

“Listen, he’s actually a really nice guy okay?” You counterattack his assumption. Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief, scoffing as you speak.

“That’s what everyone says.”

You actually felt like believing him. Jungkook is effectively inserting doubts about Namjoon into your head, and you’re actually starting to question the guy Namjoon really was. Did you not know him well enough? Was the low self-esteem just a plain act?

No, you have no reason to trust Jungkook—who was capable of manipulation and you were one to know best about this.

He seems to be able to sense the distrust from you to his claim, but what he said was true. You weren’t the first girl Namjoon has tried approaching. But you were the first to accept him.

“It’s really up to you whether to heed my advice or not—which is to stay away from a guy like that,” Jungkook puts his hands up in surrender, “but I’m just giving you a heads up, lest you fall into his trap of feelings or get taken advantage of... you know.”

Blinking, you take ten seconds to administrate what he told you into your  mind. For what exactly, was Jungkook being so kind towards you for?

You don’t have the answers to that, you think it is because he only wants you to himself to bully—and not share that privilege with Namjoon.

“I just..hope you don’t get hurt, again.”

And then once more, you were wrong about him.

The word ‘again’ reminds you of how bad he had hurt you physically, and emotionally, placed humiliation above your name and put you down to rock bottom. Everyday you would emotionlessly stare at yourself in the mirror and see a girl full of flaws and insecurities. A girl so unhappy and afraid to do anything she truly liked and follow her dreams. A girl who built up in four high walls around herself and not let anyone in, scared to feel the pain of losing someone again. A girl who was so, so tired of living. The undeserved death of your late bestfriend demolished the happiness in your soul, and Jungkook further crushed all its shattered fragments into fine dust—which made you become that girl.

However, the Jungkook you knew all those years back was gone—that you’re still trying to register—and he had changed. Not his face, which was still the same old handsome Jungkook back in highschool, but his heart had turned into something like pure gold. 

It may not be every part of him, but one thing you were sure as of right now, was that Jungkook had a kind side to him that was just never shown to you before. For all you know, he may have grown well from that immature brat in the past and became someone who’s trying to repent from his mistakes.

“Um, sure..” You’re not sure how to respond to such words coming out of his mouth—were you supposed to say thank you ?

Jungkook hesitates for a split second, before shooting the next question.

“Second thing, why did you act like you didn’t know me at the party?”

The thing is, did you really know him though?

It was harmless to attempt to keep him out of your life. It was also harmless to not have Jeon Jungkook in your happy new life.

“I’m not answering that.” You strictly follow the initial plan and Jungkook doesn’t seem too pleased at your answer.

“Are you sure you’re not gonna answer me?” He steps closer and the gap between your faces shrunk so much, that you can feel the fanning of his breath on your cheeks. He was riled up, threatening tone rebirthing and fury dripping in his eyes. Jungkook cocks a brow up, challenging your stand. 

This was the Jungkook you knew.

 He is a breath away from grabbing the collar of your shirt and slamming you against the wall and you flutter your eyes shut and squirm away from his menacing form. Witnessing how you switched into someone so fearful of him, he lets out a groan of disappointment.

Instead, all you hear next is the string of curses coming out of his mouth and you slowly open your eyes to see him running his fingers through his thick hair and pulling harshly at it in frustration.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit-fuck!”

It was like, he was trying to stop himself.

As he slapped himself back to the better of his senses, you realised that everyone had their own demons in their head. And Jungkook was no exception. At that moment, you felt pity for the guy who stood before you battling his detestable old self. His demons were overpowering, and just when you thought Jungkook excelled in manipulation, you thought wrong again—it was the demons fucking with his head, and Jungkook didn’t know how to properly deal with them, resulting in outbursts of physical and verbal abuse—the only way Jungkook knew to express his pain. 

What did Jungkook go through, that made him the monster he was?

“I-“ He starts again, cautiously speaking to you this time.

His breaths quickened and he grunts, exasperated at the failure of his words. You keep quiet as you wait for him to settle from the fit with his arms on his hips. Calming down, he turns around and suggests.

“It’s late, let me just send you home, okay?”

He was being so thoughtful for you—something you were still getting used to.

You felt so useless, standing at the side to watch him helplessly fight his inner conflicts—and being the main cause of his struggle.

The fear you felt at first has evaporated at Jungkook’s effort to not hurt you in the slightest way possible. You saw it in his eyes the first time he stroked his finger along your scar and heard it for yourself when he cared for your wellbeing.

It is in fact, time to see him in a different light—a better one.

Jungkook drives you safely to your dorm, a short and quiet journey given that his house is around the area. You wouldn’t have a peace of mind going back to campus alone through the dark alleys and streets—so you were rather grateful for the ride offer.

You mutter a ‘thanks’ before carefully exiting the grey Lamborghini you didn’t dare to cause a tiny scratch on. You speedily walked towards the entrance of your dorm building, before you hear the door of the sports car clicking open, followed by hurried footsteps.

“Wait Y/N!” Jungkook yells out and makes his way towards you.

His footsteps slow down as he reaches your patiently waiting form.

His eyes drop to the road, followed by a tilt of his head. He was nervous.

Scratching the back of his head in strong apprehension, Jungkook forcefully gets rid of all nerves and puts his words into correct place. And it goes way back when he clears his throat, bringing him to the time he faced the mirror and practiced this for a couple of dozen times.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t even have to question what for, because he has a lot to be remorseful and repentant about.

You can tell that it took a lot from him to say these three words, especially for someone who didn’t have to apologise to anyone with all that money and power. He wasn’t obliged to give you an apology. And so, he didn’t have to go through the trouble of apologising to you for what he has done. But here he was, handing you his words of redemption wholeheartedly. You were appreciative of his gesture, but you weren’t so prepared to readily forgive him just then.

“I’ll..see you around?”

Jungkook continues after your silent reply.

“Yup.” You smile assuringly.

And your answer itself sufficed for him.