#whereas here it’s like. you’re constantly reminded of how many people he helped. how many he loved. haunted by his memory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mf-despair-queen · 4 years

Text

Stranded - Thomas

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 11,426

Summary: You hated him. You despised him. He was arrogant for what he had done, taking down WICKED. He was the reason that your friends had died in the attack. But, when you find yourself stuck at sea, or even worse, stranded on a deserted island with Thomas, you find yourself realizing you were wrong.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Oral, Choking, Sex in the Water, kinda public sex I guess?, Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk

Notes: I guess I live??? I guess I still write. I don’t even know anymore y’all. I’m sorry I don’t post often these days. And I’m sorry this is as late as it is. It was meant for @writingsbychlo‘s Thomas month three months ago but between work and laziness, I didn’t finish on time. Because, essentially, I suck ass. And tbh, I’m not incredibly happy with the outcome of this. It could have been way better than it was because I loved the idea a lot. But at this point, it’s as good as it’s going to get and I just want it done and out there. Hope y’all enjoy it. Big thanks to @roscoeknows and @brien-odylan for always pushing me with this, and @jagked-up for being a sweetie and proofreading for me.

“Gather around everyone!” Vince yelled, his voice dictating the crowd of survivors to the beach front for the early morning discussions. You flopped to the sandy ground, wrapping your arms loosely around your knees that were tucked into your chest. Sharing a few nods with your friends as they passed by, you avoided the gaze of the ex-WICKED test subjects from maze A.

Many of the boys were kind and you got along with easily, but it was the tall, dark haired former runner that never struck you right. Upon learning that he had worked with WICKED growing up, and the downfall of the Right Arm shortly after his arrival, you decided to stay clear of the man, choosing to never forgive him for ruining the home you worked so hard for - causing the death of those who were close to you and raised you to who you are now. That, and he always seemed to be full of himself for his help in saving many people and stopping WICKED.

Well, that’s what you heard from some of your closest friends at least.

You had never truly interacted with the male for long periods of time. It was always in passing during dinner or around camp while getting work done. He would occasionally try to strike up a conversation, but you gave some excuse before running off, letting out a huff of annoyance that he would never get the hint. His aura was aggravating without reason, but you had no plans to befriend the amnesiac.

Turning your gaze towards Vince, who stood upon a rickety stage made of driftwood and fallen branches along the edge of the forest behind camp that you feared would break under his heavy, muscled stature and weighted boots, your ears perked up to hear his morning announcements.

“Good morning everyone,” he called, voice as authoritative as ever. “Based on some recent discussions and feedback from everyone for their tasks around the Safe Haven we have decided to try out a new method for jobs. Moral has been low because people have been mentioning that they have felt things have gone stale because they’ve been doing the same job every day since we situated here, free of infection, free from WICKED."

“So, in an attempt to raise the mood around here, we will be testing out a lottery draw for daily tasks. Remember, this is just a trial run to see how people like it and I think it’ll be good for everyone to be familiar with all of the jobs. And so you are all aware, there will be no job swapping. Once you choose something, that is what you’ll be doing for that day.”

You pouted at yourself, huffing in annoyance. A lottery? Seriously? There were a number of jobs you wished to avoid, namely the ones that involved tending to the pigs that were being raised and handling slimy things that made you cringe. To top it off, you would potentially have to work with people you didn’t know or get along with instead of the people you knew you could stand for more than a few hours.

“We have set up a station outside the dining commons for you to choose your job for the day. And we’ll get some feedback during dinner to see how things went. We’ll decide after a couple weeks if we want to keep it like this, try something new, or go back to how it was before. So please everyone, line up to draw your job for the day.”

You let out a heavy sigh, watching numerous people rush towards the job drawing, uttering something about wanting to be first in line or hoping that they have a better chance at a better task. You were slow to stand, regrettably joining the line of people while patting the sand off your backside. Silently praying you didn’t get struck with a case of bad luck for once, you watched people one by one choose their jobs. Some cheered while others wept, being consoled by their friends. Your own friends - or the group you typically hung with - chose their jobs, luckily ending up in the same task of harvesting the gardens.

Your eyes narrowed on the group of former test subjects that chatted happily after choosing their jobs. Minho, the hulky athletic male of the group, flexed and laughed at his choosing of forest running, gathering food and wood for the village. Newt, the timid brainiac that was lucky to have survived not only a stab wound but the Flare as well, was working the medical room, which he seemed pleased about. Whereas Thomas, your least favorite person in the Safe Haven, was silent, showing an awkward, lopsided smile that you couldn’t read. Was he happy about his job? Disappointed? Apathetic?

Who cares.

You turned from the trio as you approached the box yourself, staring one of the leaders named Mark in the eye. With a short nod at the older gentleman, you stuck your small hand through the hold in the top, feeling the dwindled number of papers inside. One last inaudible prayer later, you were pulling the slip out, eyes clenched shut and bated breath.

Your heart fell when you finally cracked your eyes open, seeing the words sloppily written on the strip. Fishing. You dreaded fishing. As much as you loved to eat the seafood that was brought back each day, you couldn’t stand the task itself. You hated the tedious task of dropping a net or sitting with a pole, waiting for something to happen while the boat that you felt would capsize with ease, swaying with the ocean waves. Add in dealing with the fish, grabbing at their slimy, scaly bodies while they wiggled aimlessly was less than appealing.

Why, of all things, did you have to draw fishing?

You let your thoughts consume you as you dragged your feet towards the beach where the small boat was waiting. With the lack of resources, and a recently lost boat from a hole in the bottom, only two people that could go fishing at the moment. There was a stockpile in the Safe Haven, luckily, but no one wanted to let the supply drop too low too fast. Your thoughts drifted to who you could be paired with. Hopefully it was someone that could manage for you both, that enjoyed fishing more than you. Maybe you would get paired with Gally, or even Aris. They were people that could manage stuff like this.

“Hey Y/N.”

With a screech, you fell forward into the sand, caught off guard at the deep voice before you. The person cursed, rushing forward to help you up. A somewhat tanned, veiny hand extended towards you, appearing in your sight to counter the grainy ground under you that your knees and hands were buried in.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, a blush spreading over your cheeks as you took their hand. But the blush disappeared, your face paling when you realized who it was. Thomas stood before you, helping you to stand to your feet. He gave a toothy smile, staring at you with chocolate hazelnut eyes. The sparkle in his orbs diminished slightly when you slid your hand from his, turning away to brush off your jeans. “Oh, hi Thomas.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled to see me,” he sarcastically bit, tilting his head. You scoffed at him, earning a frown from the man.

“What are you doing here?” you asked shortly.

Thomas rose a brow, turning and pointing at the small boat that was sitting on the shore, already filled with the various fishing supplies you would need. “I drew fishing today,” he said, turning back to you. “I assume you did too?”

“Great,” you mumbled under your breath, letting out a sigh. Holding up the small paper for him to see, you spoke up, “Yeah. I’m unfortunately fishing today.”

“Unfortunate because you hate fishing?” He asked. You were about to nod in confirmation before he continued. “Or, unfortunate because you’re with me?”

At his harsh statement, you frowned, gaping at the man. You struggled to find the right words for him, mouth opening and closing a few times before you managed to utter one word. “Thomas…”

“Come on,” he cut you off, nodding towards the small boat, giving that same awkward smile as before. “We have fishing to do and I’d rather not get bitched at by Vince later.”

That made you snicker, nodding in agreement. “Same though.”

Before long, you were rowing out into the middle of the ocean, the shoreline disappearing. You struggled to prepare the nets and rods, not wanting to watch Thomas row the boat. You hated to admit, but up close, he was handsome. And with him straining his muscles to row, you could easily see his biceps flexing through his dark blue shirt. The sleeves ended just below his elbow, so you had a clear shot of the veins that protruded along his arms.

It was a struggle not to watch him, constantly reminding yourself that you didn’t care for the man before you after everything that happened.

An uncomfortable silence settled between you both when he settled on a spot that seemed to be flourishing with fish. The net was dropped and the rods were cast. You sat in the boat away from each other, staring off into the distance with your backs together, the waiting game upon you. The sun was slowly moving overhead, taunting you with the passage of time. Despite the abundance of fish, nothing seemed to be biting.

Your heart was steadily hammering faster, yet you couldn’t tell if it was because you were sitting alone with Thomas or if it was because every jostle of the boat left you anxious. Thomas seemed to notice your skittish nature behind him, feeling your body jerk and tremble every time the boat would rock more than the last time.

“Are you ok?” he asked, turning to look at you over his shoulder. The second he asked, the boat shook, making you squeal in surprise.

“Fuck, I’m going to die,” you cried, placing the rod aside and resting your elbows on your knees. Thomas blinked, placing his own rod down so he could turn and stare at you.

“Come again?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m too young to die at sea!” you cried louder. The boat shook again, making you squeak once more. “Fuck, I swear that has got to be a shark. This is something straight out of Jaws!”

“...Jaws?”

“Yeah, you know,” you ranted, turning to face him. “That classic movie about the shark that was terrorizing Amity Beach? They had like… three sequels? It was a massive shark that would come and kill people!”

“I… don’t know.”

“Well, what about 47 Meters Down? Granted, we don’t have a diving cage, but we could basically be surrounded by sharks and we have nowhere to go. We are in the middle of the ocean, Thomas!”

“I don’t know that one either.”

“How could you not know them?” you hollered.

Thomas scoffed. “Well, excuse me for losing my memory while in the maze.”

“But I thought you got some memories back from that… that one thing.” You faintly remember hearing about that from your friends.

“I remembered stuff about WICKED. Doesn’t mean I remember your shitty movies!” he snapped.

You growled at him. “God, why are you such an asshole?”

“Why are you such a bitch?” he huffed.

“Thanks for the compliment. I know I’m a babe in total control of herself,” was your smug response, flashing him a smirk. Thomas rolled his eyes, turning away from you.

“God, why did I have to get stuck with you?” he grumbled.

“Because I’m obviously amazing,” you told him, turning to stare at the horizon.

“Fuck you.”

“You would like that.”

You expect him to retort, but he said nothing. You blinked in confusion, turning back to him. He wasn’t facing you, so you only got the backside of his head. Your face fell, a sorrowful thump in your chest making it ache. For some reason, you felt bad for his silence, afraid you had done something wrong. It felt as though his mood dropped, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

Instead of asking though, you turned and picked up the rod, hoping something would bite soon.

“You know,” he spoke up suddenly, making you jump. “I know you don’t like me.”

Shocked, you turned to him, only to find he still wasn’t facing you. “What? Thomas, no. I don’t-”

“I understand though,” he murmured. “You were happy with the Right Arm before we came. And then within one day, everything you knew and loved was lost. You lost those who practically raised you, like Mary. And it’s all my fault.”

“Thomas…”

“I’ve been trying to make amends for what happened. I know I can’t change what happened, but I wanted to apologize. And you’re the last person I need to apologize to for what happened. I really fucked up that day and I feel bad that I caused so many problems. But you never give me the chance to apologize to you because you are always ignoring me.”

You stared down at your feet, guilt washing over you. This entire time, you had scrutinized him for what he had done and what had happened, judging him for things of his past. You never took the chance to learn who he was and understand how he was feeling. You sighed softly, shifting in your seat, letting silence befall you again.

The boat shook, making you gasp, grasping at the edges of the boat. “Oh my god. What the fuck was that?”

Thomas chuckled. “It was just the waves, Y/N. Calm down.”

“If I get eaten by a shark-” The boat shook more, making you both stumble slightly in the uneven waves. “Oh my god. It’s Jaws!”

“There is no Jaws!”

“I’m too young to die at sea! Why did I have to get ‘fishing’? If I was going to die, why couldn’t I, oh I don’t know, follow the butterflies?” you bellowed. “Fuck, I hate the ocean. Nothing good ever happens out here.”

“Y/N-”

“Is it Jaws?!”

Thomas turned quickly in his seat, just as you turned to face him, wrapping his arms around you.

“Hold on!”

Your eyes widened, feeling the boat shake and shift, being tossed around as the water around you grew aggressive. Your skin paled, barely managing to take a gulp of air before the large wave that was hurtling towards you crashed into the boat, sending you and Thomas toppling into the dark ocean. The waves pushed you around, Thomas barely able to keep his grasp on you.

Your head was spinning.

Your eyes were blurry and unfocused, burning from the salt water.

Your throat ached, wanting to breathe air that wasn’t present as you struggled to figure out which way was up.

Your vision slowly blurred, going black before long, suffocating on the water around you.

A burst of air filled your lungs, your body retching to rid itself of water. You were turned on your side as the water escaped, low heaves and coughs leaving you. When you managed to catch your breath, breathing normally, you flopped back onto your back, staring up at the blue sky. Blinking a few times, you tried to remember what happened.

“Are you ok?” Thomas spoke beside you.

That’s when it hit. You turned to him, eyes slowly widening. You jumped to your feet, stumbling around to look at your surroundings. There was a forest on one side, and the ocean on the other. Wood from the destroyed boat was still washing onto the shore, some of your belongings that managed to survive were scattered in the sand. Nothing was in sight around you - no Safe Haven close to return to.

You glanced down at Thomas, taking note of his dripping wet locks that stuck to his forehead. His shirt and pants clung to his limbs, making his chest and arms stick out more, accentuating the thick thighs you never took the time to notice. Sand stuck to his wet skin, but he didn’t seem fazed by the grainy substance. He was panting, slouched in the sand before where you form once laid.

“Be careful,” he called. “Don’t rush too fast. You just woke up from nearly drowning.”

“Where are we?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he hummed lowly. “When I finally managed to get us to the surface, this is where we had ended up.”

“So, are you trying to say,” you choked, crouching down into a ball. “That we are stranded?”

“I think so.”

“I’m stranded here with you?” Thomas nodded. You groaned, taking a handful of sand and throwing it away from you both. “Fuck!”

“Y/N, calm down-”

You didn’t listen, rushing to the edge of the water. The waves splashed around your already wet feet, your shoes sinking into the wet sand. “Hello?” you called loudly, cupping your mouth to amplify your voice. “Can anyone hear me? Help! We are stuck out here!”

“Hey, hey. Stop that,” Thomas called, standing from his seat and making his way towards you. He took your hands as you continued to scream into the abyss, turning you to face him. “Stop screaming like that.”

“No, leave me alone! I’m not going to die here with you!”

“Y/N, stop!” he called, holding you struggling form tighter. You eased into him when he raised his voice. “That’s not going to help. You’re just going to wear yourself out faster that way.”

“But-”

“If you continue to scream, you will just make yourself tired and thirsty. And the last thing we need is for you to be dehydrated. You will die faster if that’s the case.” You swallowed thickly, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. “We need to focus on finding food, water and shelter. Then we can figure out how to get home. We need to make sure we are safe first.”

“But, how?” you sniffled, fear finally kicking in. “I can barely fish.”

“Don’t worry about it. I will handle it,” he whispered, pushing your wet hair back. He grimaced when he felt grains of sand interlaced in your strands, but kept a smile on his face. “Just make sure to keep up, alright smallfry?”

You huffed when he turned away, moving to gather some of the supplies that survived. “I’m not a smallfry, you tree!” you called out to him, chasing after the man.

You managed to gather some emergency supplies that had been luckily sealed to keep from getting wet, giving you a blanket, flint for a fire, and a small knife. It wasn’t much, but it was all Thomas needed before he ventured into the jungle. Though, it wasn’t before you had convinced him to let you spell out an SOS in the sand with rather heavy rocks you found along the coast.

Trekking through the dense jungle, soaked from head to toe in salt water, the humidity piercing the air until your skin stuck more than before, and exhaustion beginning to set into your limbs, was the last thing you had thought would happen when you awoke that morning. Let alone you were with Thomas of all people.

On one hand, if you were going to be stuck with anyone, Thomas was a prime candidate. He had survived the Maze and the Scorch, he was fit and able to hunt for food if needed, and he'd carry you with ease if you suddenly fell flat on your face after tripping over the many tree roots that seemed to wrap themselves around your ankles, tugging at your despair. On the other hand, it was Thomas. The traitor, the ex-WICKED member, the know it all.

You frowned at the thought, glancing up to stare at the back of his head, watching the brown tuft of hair flowing in the breeze that skated by. His shirt stuck to his form with sea water and sweat, his arms effortlessly flexing whenever he pushed aside branches, leaves and bushes. Your mind raced back to the discussion on the boat and Thomas’ plea for forgiveness echoing in your ears. Our stomach clenched with the familiar sense of guilt you had before the tsunami-like wave capsized your tiny haven.

Maybe you had judged him too quickly after all. He was making advances to move on and seek retribution for everything. You were stuck in the past, unwilling to forgive what happened to friends back then.

Maybe it was time to start moving on...

Though, that thought didn’t change that you were stuck alone on this uninhabited island with him. Alone with a fairly attractive man...

Shaking your head quickly to rid yourself of the indecent thoughts, your cheeks flaring up, you hustled forward to join his side. The silence between you was unnerving, the only sound around being your rapid heartbeat that seemed to speed up when you sideways glanced at his face. Unconsciously, you found yourself counting the moles that starred his jawline.

No, stop. What are you doing?

“So, uh,” you cleared your throat speaking up, trying to distract yourself from the plague that kept entering your mind. “What is the plan?”

“We should find water and shelter,” he voiced, cut off by the loud growl of your stomach. Your cheeks lit up, not only due to the embarrassment caused by the protests of hunger your body let out, but also the flips your stomach did at the sound of his deep, but melodic laughter. His dark eyes darted to you, a goofy, lopsided grin inching his cheeks upright. “And food too, I guess. We need fresh water and shelter first and foremost though.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to find that?” you questioned, jumping over a rock and nearly faceplanting. Thomas caught you swiftly, adding more heat to your already warm face. Uttering a low thank you, you continued after him, afraid to speak more.

“Well, I guess we should try to listen for some water. If we can find a stream or river, we can probably follow it for a bit.”

“You mean like that?”

You spied a small stream beyond a set of trees, Thomas’ face lighting up at the sight. “Exactly! Let’s go!”

You laughed at his excitement, though you missed the soft smile Thomas gave hearing you laugh the way you did. He rushed towards the stream of water with you hot on his heel, following the water flowing down the island. A more comfortable silence fell between you this time, making your way through the jungle together.

“Eureka!” Thomas finally exclaimed, dashing away from you.

“H-hey! Don’t just leave me alone you asshole! Or I will never forgive you!”

“Story of my life,” was his snarky reply, but the joking words made your heart clench while wincing to yourself. He wasn’t wrong, but it stung to hear it so bluntly. “Now, hurry up and get over here!”

A silent sigh left your lips before rushing after him, stumbling to a stop at his side in awe. A small lake was at the end of the stream you were following, the water sparkling with the sun's rays glaring down at it. A small waterfall stood in the distance, white foam coating the base, rippling waves making the water glisten and shimmer. You stared in awe at the sight, gawking at the beauty.

“Yahoo!” Thomas screamed before diving straight into the water, belongings dropped carelessly to the ground, making you gasp in shock. Dots of cold water sprinkled along your face, causing you to shrink back in surprise and yelp loudly.

“Thomas!” You screamed at him when he resurfaced, kicking his legs to stay afloat. The man pushed back his dark tresses of hair, wiping the water away from his face. He didn’t care that he was fully clothed, fabric clinging to his muscled form. He was content laying back in the water, eyes glued to the blue sky.

“This is nice.”

“You’re an asshole,” you scowled.

His heavenly laugh resounded through the air, your stomach knotting at the noise. Your eyes followed the man as he flipped in the water, diving into the water again before swimming to the other edge near the waterfall. A tired heave escaped as you sat in the nearby grass, sliding off your wet shoes and socks and slipping your aching, waterlogged feet into the lake. The cool water felt refreshing, a sense of calm hitting you almost instantly. You leaned back on your hands, allowing yourself to unwind for the first time since you awoke on the sandy beach.

“Hey!” Thomas called, making you crack an eye in his direction. He was waving at you from afar, standing at the edge of the waterfall. He pointed towards the falling rapids, calling out, “There is a small cave back here! I think we can use this as shelter!”

“Are you sure?” You hollered back. Thomas nodded, diving into the water and swimming towards you. When he arrived, he stayed in the water, resting on the edge of the lake on his arms.

“Yeah. It’s small, but I think it'll do. It’s dry enough for us to have a fire but it’ll keep any animals out.”

“If I die tonight because you are wrong and some animal mauls me while I sleep, I am coming back to haunt you.”

Thomas grinned, lifting himself out of the water to grab the gear he dropped. The water made his pants sag, exposing the elastic of the dark boxers he had on. You blushed and turned away, listening to him rummage around in the waterproof bag of emergency goods.

“I’m going to try and gather some food from the trees. Do you think you can gather some wood for a fire? We can use the bag and tarp that was inside to keep it dry when we head in,” he suggested, tossing both in your direction.

“I guess. But let me rest for a bit longer please,” you hummed, turning to look at him. Thomas nodded at your words, pocketing a knife set. Turning was a bad decision - Thomas at that moment was stripping off his wet shirt, giving you full display of his toned upper torso, complete with check hair and happy trail dipping into his waistband. His broad shoulders and arms flexed as he stretched, folding the shirt and placing it down with the spare belongings in the bag. His long legs carried him towards some trees with mysterious fruit hiding in the tops, your eyes tracing the back muscles you didn’t know you needed until now.

The man proceeded to climb the tree carefully, trying not to slip too much from his wet pants. Watching him pull himself up, arms bulging and veins prominent along his skin even from a distance, made your body heat up, legs rubbing together slightly. The attractive man left your mind reeling. A shaky breath left your lips, your head turning away quickly.

What the fuck? You thought to yourself, staring at your reflection. Since when did I think of Thomas as attractive?

The soft thunk of fruits being cut down from the tree made your ears ring, eyes darting to stare at the man in the tree before returning to the water. You saw how red your face was.

I thought I hated him. I thought I despised him. But ever since he said he’s been trying to apologize for what happened, I can’t help but think… You groaned, ruffling your knotted hair. Have I just always found him attractive but chose to ignore it because I was irrationally angry at him?

“Aw fuck,” you heard Thomas groan when he fell on his ass while descend the tree. The man stood from the ground, rubbing his sore buttox before moving to the next tree, repeating his attempts to gather food. You giggled to yourself, tucking some loose hair away.

“Maybe I have been too harsh on him,” you sighed to yourself, feeling your heartbeat picking up. “Maybe it’s time to move on and forgive him.That fucking attractive asshole.”

“Hey, don’t get too comfortable! Help a brotha out!” he joking called before jumping onto another tree ungracefully, shimmying up the trunk slowly.

“I know, asshole!”

Hesitantly, you pulled yourself from the ground, grumbling lowly at yourself as you dragged the supplies to the small cave before heading off to find sticks. The entire time you gathered the broken twigs and branches that littered across the ground, your eyes kept lingering on the broad, muscular form in the distance. Setting your eyes on his form made your heart race, face heating up from something other than the setting sun in the distance. You ached, but not from the strenuous task of obtaining firewood for warmth that night. As you crouched for wood, your legs rubbed together to relieve the throbbing sensation that racked your lower body. Your mind was plagued with him - how you never noticed his beautiful or funny personality through your initial judgment. Deep down, you knew he was hot… but it didn’t strike until now just how much you really liked him.

And being stuck with him, seeing how much he cared, only deepened the feeling. Rapidly, at that. You were smitten in a matter of hours, putting aside your hatred to see the real side of the man.

When you walked into the cave, it was silent. Thomas said nothing, busy setting up the blanket so you had a somewhat comfortable place to rest until help, hopefully, arrived. You pouted, a sudden overwhelming sense of doubt hitting you. Though he never showed it, insecurity struck, suggesting to you that he was actually uncomfortable with the situation - that he actually was upset that you had resented him for so long. Despite his attempted apology in the smash boat, he really was unhappy that you wouldn’t accept him.

And here you were, pining over the man suddenly as a new light was making his presence glow in the darkness, giving you some hope, security and a very flushed face at the simplest thoughts. How the tables turned in your mind.

The sun was nearly gone, giving the sky a faint, blue glow, the remnants of pinks and oranges fading into black. Thomas quietly started a fire, the crackling embers flaring up after a few harsh breaths from the man to fan the flames. Both of you settled onto the blanket, nibbling on the fruits he had gathered. A decent gap was between you, your butt at the edge of the blanket just like his.

Listening to the crackle of the fire made your mind race with uneasy thoughts. Occasionally, as you bit into the mysterious, but sweet food, you would glance at the man beside you, finding his eyes glued to the fire before you. Eyes traced his side profile, heating up as you admired his sharp jawline speckled in freckles and moles, bits of scruff forming on his chin.

He hadn’t shaved recently.

Your stomach fluttered, knotting tightly with delight and discomfort. He was handsome, something you would have never admitted before today, but the cold shoulder was killing you. Your mouth was dry, tongue darting out in an attempt to relieve the crackling feeling with no result. Your heart pounded against your chest before turning away, tugging your lip between your teeth to nibble at unconsciously.

Now that you were ready to forgive him, this new feeling was taking over. You really liked him, and you wanted to get to know him more. You were tired of judging him for what happened. You had the wrong perception of him. But, you had to make things right.

“Thomas,” you croaked. The man turned his head; you could feel his chocolate colored eyes on the side of your head, trying to pierce you. The words didn’t want to come out when you opened your mouth, unsure what you wanted to say or ask. You finally managed after a handful of attempts to utter one line: “Do you hate me?”

“What?” he asked, more to himself than to you. When you glanced at him, he was shocked, gawking in your direction. The leg he had tucked into him as he ate was extended, body turned to face you better.

“I just,” you started, twiddling your fingers together. “I’ve been so hard on you since we got to the safe haven. I hated you because of what happened with the Right Arm. But I never gave you a chance to make amends for that. I know you didn’t deserve the treatment I gave you, but I did it anyway, believing that you were this cocky know-it-all for being the savior that took down WICKED. And, I’m sorry for that.

“I shouldn't have judged you so prematurely. I shouldn’t have shunned you or pushed you away when all you wanted was to be friends, to make up for what happened because I get it; you feel guilty for what happened. You blame yourself when you shouldn’t. It wasn’t even your fault when you think about it. And now… we’re stuck here and I just… I keep feeling like because of how poorly I’ve treated you that you hate me now. I’ve done you wrong and you have no reason to treat me kindly. Sure, survival is one thing but… I’m sure you hate me.”

“I could never,” he voiced without a thought, startling you.

Staring up at him, you whispered, “What?”

“I could never hate you,” he hummed, returning to hugging a knee to his chest. “Quite the opposite really.”

“I’m not following.”

Thomas chuckled, continuing, “You were the one I wanted to apologize to the most because of how much I liked you. I’ve…” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ve had a massive crush on you for the longest time. You’re the smartest, strongest and most beautiful woman in the safe haven to me. I couldn’t but to develop a small… well, a massive crush on you. And I wanted to ask you to give me a chance, but you would always walk away when I got the courage to talk to you. I knew I had hurt you but I wanted to try. So, yeah. I could never hate you.”

It was your turn to gawk at him. Your cheeks burned, staring at the handsome man in shock. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to say anything for the longest time. And when you finally managed to say anything, you only could say, “I’m going to take a bath!”

Thomas laughed when he watched you rush out, jumping into the shallow water just outside the cave fully clothed. Collapsing onto a rock, water coming up to your waist, you huffed, burrowing your face in your palms.

“God, I’m stupid. He fucking likes me too. He has a crush on me. And here I’m starting to crush on him. What did I fucking run?!”

Sighing, you peeled the wet shirt over your head, struggling to strip yourself of your pants. Since you were already in the water, you figured you should at least wash up the best you could, choosing to scrub your tattered clothes a bit to rid them of dirt and grime. The wet clothes, after you were done, we placed aside, allowing you to sink further into the water. A content breath left your lips, looking up at the stars that made the sky glow.

“So, you like me too?”

You jumped, turning around with arms crossed over your chest to hide your almost bare chest. The cocky male sat at the base of the cave, still shirtless from his earlier excursion.

“Can you not?!” you screamed, splashing water in his direction.

“Sorry, sorry,” he teased. “I initially came to check on you after you ran off, and you’ve been out here for a bit. Wanted to make sure something didn’t eat you.”

“I appreciate the concern, but can you not stare at my chest?” you grumbled, noticing his stare at the water, right where your hands were. “And what gave you the impression that I like you too?”

“You know I could hear you, right?” You blushed, sinking further into the water. “Listen, I’m glad you are starting to like me too. But I will leave you be. I will let you tell me when you’re ready. I’m honestly just... “ He stopped for a second. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I don’t think I ever really hated you,” you admitted to him. “I was just blind to how much I really did like you. I never took the time to notice how handsome, smart and funny you are. I lied to myself that I didn’t like you when I’m pretty sure I liked you a hell of a lot.”

“You know, being stranded on this island sucks,” he hummed playfully. “But, I’m glad I’m here with you. It really is something special.”

“Thomas.”

“I will leave you be to clean up. I shouldn’t bother you. But please give me a holler if you need me or something happens.”

He stood to leave, turning his back to retreat into your small dominion for the night. He didn’t hear the water splash as you rushed to the edge of the water, not caring to shield yourself as you called out to him again.

“Thomas!”

Slowly, he turned back to you, a red hot blush clearly appearing on his skin despite the darkness. “Yes?”

You were silent for a second before speaking up, “do you want to take a bath with me? You know, clean up and maybe wash your clothes?”

He chuckled, contemplating for a moment before letting his feelings cave over his rational thoughts. He turned around briskly, rushing to join you in the water. His jump into the shallow water, albeit not a big one, was enough to make the water splash against you, Thomas earning a squeal of surprise. He grinned, falling back into the water so he could float among the small waves so he could pull his pants off.

You blushed, moving to sink into further water, deep enough to hide yourself but to not have to tread water. You avoid his eyes, keeping your eyes on the rippling waves, listening to the patter of the waterfall behind you.

It wasn’t until you heard the wet slap of his pants on rock and felt his warm presence against your back at you became hyper aware of him standing right behind you. You could feel his hot breath fan against your neck as he pushed your wet locks aside, draping them over one shoulder.

“Is this fine?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want to go fast. I don’t want to scare you away, but I can’t keep myself away. I should have just walked away, but I can’t when you’re so close. You said you like me too and I’ve wanted this for so long. So please, if you don’t want this, tell me now.”

“Tommy,” you breathed. The name made his breath hitch - something you caught instantly. His body stiffened against yours, his breathing picking up. Your heart was beating just as fast as his was, though you couldn’t pick up on the rapid pounding in his chest.

“Please. If I’ve gone too far, tell me. Because if you don’t stop me, I don’t know what I will do. I’m a hormonal guy, Y/N. And I’m stranded on an island alone with the most beautiful girl int eh world. The girl I’ve admired for too long. I don’t want to hurt-”

You turned quickly, cupping his cheeks in your hands and pulling him into a rough, sloppy kiss to silence him. The man’s muffled grunts were lost to your lips, his body instantly reacting to yours. He pushed closer to you, his erection obvious against your leg. His hands wrapped around your waist, hugging you to his muscled chest, wet pecs flexing anxiously with the jump in his heartbeat. Your fingers curled against his cheeks before pulling away, grinning cheekily.

“You talk to much. Maybe I should have just continued hating you.”

“Nope. This is better.”

His lips crashed back onto yours after his hasty response, tilting his head to give him as much room as possible to engulf your lips with his. Your hands eagerly slid up to his wet chocolate tresses, tangling in them to scrape at his scalp. His hands ran along your waist until he found your ass, lifting you up against him so your legs could wrap around his midsection. Things escalated quickly, heat building with the sensual kiss.

And you weren’t arguing right now.

He backed you into the shallowest part of the water, placing you down to focus on the heated kiss. His tongue darted along your plump lips until they parted, automatically shoving past them to enter your wet cavern. Tongues battled for dominance, something you easily lost. His tongue ran along your mouth, tracing every inch of it before pulling away for air, a short string of saliva still connecting your lips.

Your chests rose and fell quickly for air before instantly delving in for more open mouth kisses. Lips dragged against each other, wet smacks mixing with the rushing water beside you. Noses bumped whenever your heads turned to get a better position, teeth clashing with every heated crash. His lips dragged along yours, sucking them teasingly before devouring them again and again.

Your hands slid down from his hair, landing on his broad shoulder first before running down his chest. Your fingers skimming along his skin made him shiver, pecs jumping under your sultry touch. His arms flexed, more veins emerging from his skin as he got excited. When your thumbs brushed against his nipples, he shuddered, breaking the kiss to let out a gasping moan.

“Don’t do that,” he rasped, a glint in the glare he sent you.

“Oh. Are your nipples sensitive, Tommy?” you cooed, smirking up at the man. A deeper groan left his lips, his face burrowing in your neck. Tiny nips and kisses were left on your skin, Thomas earning himself a moan.

“I hate that you started using that name so quickly,” he uttered deeply. “It’s making it really hard to control myself.”

“Who said you needed to control yourself?” you spoke without warning. Thomas groaned once more, hands fussing with the bra strap against your back.

The article was nearly ripped from your skin and tossed aside, lost to the lake as it drifted away in the water. His eyes were dark, near animalistic, like he was staring at his prey right before he pounced. You weren’t telling him no; you were encouraging the hungry tiger inside. He intended to take advantage of that, even if his mind told him not to. His body spoke louder. His hunger made him salivate, taking in the sight of your bare torso before lunging.

His head dipped down, latching onto your breast instantly. Your head fell back, unleashing a loud moan at the pleasure. His mouth wrapped around your hard bud, tongue flicking at it happily. His large, veiny hand grasped the other one, fondling it fiercely, between his long fingers. Even if you told yourself you didn’t want this, your body screamed that you did. Even if you told yourself you didn’t want to be stuck with Thomas, you were glad it was him. Even if you told yourself you didn’t like him, you knew for a fact you did.

What he was doing felt phenomenal, and you wouldn’t change that for the world right then and there.

Thomas pulled away with a pop, sucking red marks along the skin of your mounds before resuming his licking barrage on the nipple, grunting against it happily. More moans left your lips, fingers tangling in his hair to keep yourself together, giving you something to tug at while you were pleasured. Your legs rubbed together, feeling heat pooling between them the more he attacked your chest, suckling at your nipple repeatedly. When he finally switched breasts, you lost control, nearly shouting his name into the night sky.

“Oh, fuck, Thomas!” you mewled, pressing his face further into your chest. “That feels so good.”

“Shit,” he choked, prying himself from your grasp to move up to your level. His body sliding against yours allowed you to feel the obvious bulge in his boxers, your core twitching as a result. “If you keep that up, I’m going to have to fuck you senseless. You have no idea how hot that is and how fucking horny I am right now.”

“Then do it,” you let out. “Fucking fuck me already.”

“God damn.”

He didn’t ask twice. He was stripping you of your only remaining garment, tossing them with his own onto the rocks behind you. Your stare turned south to catch a glimpse of his shaft, gawking at the size. “Holy shit,” you gasped. “Is that what I was missing by hating your guts?”

His was long and hard, his hand wrapped around the girthy base to stroke it casually. The tip was swollen and red, beads of precum coming out the tip when he tugged at himself. He was much larger than any other guy you had seen - the few one night stands you managed to have were nothing compared to this. You were silently thanking the world for what had happened, giving you a chance to make things right with Thomas and to get fucked senseless by a god. You were thankful for the realization of your feelings because right now, your pussy was pleading to be filled.

“Should have talked to me sooner. We could have been fucking for a while now,” he teased. “Of course, I wanted you for more than a good lay, but I’m sure I can please you when you need it.”

“Oh? Low blow, cowboy. Sure you can stick to those guns?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

The tip ran along your folds a few times before he pushed in quickly, bottoming out in seconds. A loud, prolonged moan left your mouth, the noise drawn out and making your throat vibrate. Thomas grunted at the feeling of your tight cunt around him, your walls grasping at his hard cock eagerly. His eyes closed, trying to not cum instantly. You were wet and warm, clinging to him intermittently, hugging him tightly. The subtlest shift made you clench, another loud noise filling the air.

Before he started to move, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He gave you a chaste kiss before groaning, shifting you against him. “If it gets to be too much, stop me.”

“Alright.”

It started slow, your body bouncing against his. His hands sat on your backside, using your ass as leverage to guide your body against his. His long shaft slid in and out of you slowly, rubbing against your walls and poking at the sensitive spots. Whenever he was nearly freed, you were brought back down onto him, fully sheathing him inside your warmth.

The speed picked up gradually until you were being slammed onto his thick cock repeatedly, enhancing the pleasure you were feeling. Your moans grew in volume, filling the night air around you. The water splashed against your sides with every diligent thrust into your tight core, aiding Thomas’ thick cock in sliding in and out of you. Nails clawed at his skin, diggin crescent-shaped moons into his shoulders while being bounced, keeping you steady and upright.

Thomas groaned loudly, the sound of your seductive moans in his ears making him harder than he thought was possible. His chocolate pupils, darkened by lust, traveled south, traveling the features of your face the entire time. Your lips were rosy from the intense kisses you shared, your bright orbs were half-lidded with ecstasy, your cheeks were flushed under the moon that was rearing it face over the trees slowly. When his eyes befell your chest, watching your breasts bounce up and down against his moist chest, the former runner was floored. He had never seen something so wonderful - so attractive. His stomach tightened, hips thrusting faster into you, unleashing a more animalistic nature that had you screaming.

“Oh, god!” you let out, throwing your head back. Your entire body shook, your knotting stomach flipping a million times a second. Thomas grunted out at your echoed speech, leaning forward to latch onto your breast, after a bit of trouble to keep a steady pace and attack the mound as it jostled aimlessly. One hand found its way to his wet locks, tugging at them harshly. The suckling to your peaked buds made your eyes flash white, the shaking increasing significantly as your high hit. “Oh fuck, Thomas!”

With your walls clenching, your warm cunt hugging him tightly and his cock growing slick with your arousal, his head began to spin. Maybe it was the lack of air; he wasn’t breathing while he bucked into you, nibbling at your breast with all of his might. His thrusts grew sloppy, fighting to control himself while you had your orgasm. When he finally felt your body going limp, he moved forward, resting you on a shallow rock and pulling himself free.

You blinked your eyes opened, glancing at the dark haired man that no longer occupied your used core. Your pussy throbbed, trying to clench around nothing but air, screaming at its sudden emptiness. Thomas’ eyes were glued on you - all of you - taking in your fucked-out expression, round breasts that were littered with red love marks, and your chest heaving with uneven breaths. His large hand, covered in veins, wrapped around his cock, stroking himself quickly and harshly, pulling the skin of his length over the tip slightly. The man hunched forward slightly, refusing to give in until he was grunting loudly, utter a few curses before releasing himself onto your form.

Thick ropes of his hot seed shot from the tip, dotting up your stomach to your chest, covering your breasts in his white, steamy essence. Bits of water washed the droplets away when it splashed across your body, but he licked his lips at the sight of you covered in his cum, looking hot with the white strings as your form. His unruly noises got louder when you ran your fingers along the few drops that remained, particularly on your breasts, rubbing the thick substance around your taut buds slowly.

“Shit,” he huffed, kneeling on the rock beside you. His lips connected to yours in a searing kiss, your lips instantly parting to allow his tongue to invade your cheeks. Your tongues tangled together messily, noisy open-mouth kisses smacking against each other in haste. Thomas’ hand slithered between your legs, shamelessly shoving two fingers into your sensitive core. The moan that he ripped from your was lost to his throat. His fingers shoved into your pussy quickly, making you writhe under him.

The kiss broke, allowing your shaking words to escape. “Don’t go so rough.”

“Are you a bit sensitive after you took me?” he asked cheekily, making you laugh slightly.

“I guess you could say that. I think I’m a little overstimulated. I haven’t had sex in a while.”

Thomas blinked, hand stilling. “You’re had sex before?”

Your eyes met, confusion in your eyes. “I mean, of course. I tried dating a guy once after we came to the safe haven, but he was only good for a single lay to relieve some stress from everything,” you revealed. With a giggle, you continued, “Don’t tell me you haven’t had some action since we got here.”

“Oh. I-I mean.. Well, yeah. Who hasn’t?” You didn’t seem convinced, earning a deep sigh from Thomas. His fingers removed themselves from your core, the man sitting on the rock beside you. You sat up yourself, hugging your chest slightly. “I guess if you count the one night stand I had after getting really drunk on Gally’s drink.”

“No way. With who?”

Thomas chuckled at your enthusiasm. “I can’t really remember. She was gone before I woke up in the chicken coop. I think her name was Mandy because after that night, she never talked to me again.”

Your laughter grew louder, leaning on the frowning male. “That’s fucking great.”

“Laugh it up, bitch.”

“I will,” you teased. “But, how come you never tried for more?”

“I mean,” he sighed, looking down at you. “I had my eyes on someone I really liked. But, she didn’t like me back. Wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t look at me. She hated my guts.”

“Well,” you sighed, looking up at him with a joking smile, “she’s lost out. You should forget about her.”

Thomas laughed, leaning down to kiss you softly. His hand, wet and dripping with water, moved up to caress your cheek as his lips dragged against yours slowly. “I think I already am because I have someone amazing with me now.”

Together you sat under the moonlight in the water for a while, cuddling until you felt your feet wrinkling and your body shiver from the cold that was setting in. Thomas exited the water first, lending a hand to help you out afterwards. Gathering your discarded clothes, you hobbled back into the warmth of the cave. While you laid out the clothes to dry, Thomas added more wood to the dying fire, letting it flare back up before you both snuggled together on the blanket, seeking warmth with each other.

You faced him, staring up at his sharp features, fingers dancing along his muscled arms and speckled cheeks. His biceps flexed under your touch, cheeks curling upwards with a smile at the gentle skim of your touch. His own arm was draped over your waist, drawing imaginary shapes to the small of your back. You had never been so comfortable or content in your life, having spent so long running from Cranks or escaping from WICKED in hopes of finding a safe place to live in peace, praying to harmony in your unpredictable life. You frowned at the thought; you had misses so much because of your judgments.

“I’m still sorry,” you whispered lowly. Thomas hummed, waiting for you to continue. “I’m sorry for everything, Tommy. For shunning you, judging you, mistreating you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s fine, babe,” he mused, kissing your forehead. “I get it. You don’t need to beat yourself up about it.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he laughed. His eyes met yours, giving you a soft smile before leaning in and kissing you on your lips softly. “We just need to move on from here.”

“I guess so.”

“Just give me a chance to show you that I’m a good guy,” he teased, making you laugh.

“Yeah, if we ever get off this island,” you said. “But, being stranded with you isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“Are you saying that shipwrecking with me here was going to suck?” he gasped.

“Tommy, I didn’t even want to fish with your ass!”

“But I have a fine ass.”

“Yeah, I know,” you teased, daring to roll onto him, straddling his waist with ease. Your lips connected in a fiery kiss, earning a deep grunt from the former runner. “I watched you climb a tree today. You have a nice behind.”

“So do you,” he rasped lowly, cupping your backside tightly in his palms. The action made you mewl, grinding your hips against his sharply. Your lips connected once more, letting your tongues tease each other. Thomas’ cock was growing hard under you, sliding between your moist pussy lips. The man murmured against your lips after breaking your kiss, “I’m getting horny again.”

“I can’t say I disagree,” you uttered, grinding on him harder, two moans filling your small hideaway. His cock was twitching against your wet core, the hands that remained on your ass helping you rock against him faster. “Fuck, I just want you inside me again.”

“If we do, I can’t promise I will last long… or pull out in time to not cum inside you.”

“That’s fine,” you let out.

Thomas grinned seductively, teeth twinkling mischievously. “You know, if that happens, there will be a chance you could get pregnant.”

“I know, but I trust you.”

The words made his heart jump slightly. “So, are you saying that you want me to fill you with my cum? You want me to fuck you silly and maybe put a baby inside you?”

“I mean, I will take the fucking me silly, but if a baby comes with it, you’re helping to raise it.”

“Deal,” he gasped.

Within much thought, he was aligning with your core, sliding into you. You moaned at the feeling of him filling you up once more, your pussy full with his giant cock. The tip of his cock brushed against your g-spot, as well as new spots he hadn’t hit before. The new position came with a new angle, and the new angle let him reach deeper inside you. He stayed still for a moment before guiding you along his length, rocking you back and forth along his shaft.

You laid against his as you moved along his cock, breasts pressed against his chest. Your lips danced together occasionally, dragging against each other slowly before parting to let our low moans. The subtle smack from the kisses made your heart race and core clench, squeezing around him tightly. They were such loving kisses, but they made your walls tight and wet.

Pushing up on his chest, separating from the multitude of kisses you shared, you picked up speed, riding him quickly. His cock slid in and out of you quickly, your body rising up and slamming back onto him before he could escape your grasp. Your speed gradually built until you were slapping your hips together loudly, sweaty skin sticking together and pulling apart with slick noises.

Thomas licked his lips, eying your bouncing breasts for a bit before turning to watch his cock slip in and out of you. He was familiar with your breasts moving when he was inside you, but he thoroughly enjoyed the way his cock would emerge covered in your sweet arousal, making his length glisten in the firelight, before it disappeared back inside your tight cunt, throbbing with the need to explode. He wanted to fill you up, spilling every last ounce he had into your hole. He wanted to watch the white seed drip from your lips, oozing out because you were so full of him.

The desire to do so was overwhelming, so much that the man lifted you off of him with a short whine, and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. He found himself ramming back into you from behind, hearing a short scream rip from your throat when he wasted no time in slamming himself into you. He bucked wildly, his speed nearly godly, thrusting himself deep into you. His new speed and position made you scream his name loudly, clawing at the bunched up blankets under you. Your body shifted with every thrust, only kept steady from a firm hand he kept on your hip. The other hand planted firmly to your backside, a reddening handprint pressed into your skin.

“You feel so good, baby,” he growled, pushing harder. His hips snapped into your ass, balls slapping against your folds. The sounds of slapping skin mixed with the uncontrollable noises that left your mouth in panted breaths, making Thomas grin widely. “You like this, Y/N? You like when I fill you up with my giant fucking cock?”

“Tommy-”

“You love when I fuck you into the ground like this? You just can’t get enough, can you?”

“No,” you managed to utter. “I need more.”

“What was that?” he asked, the hand that had been slapping at your ass occasionally sliding up your back to your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze, hearing a choked breath leave. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you made no effort to remove it, so he figured you were fine. Maybe, you were even enjoying the restriction. “Speak up, baby. I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck, Thomas. Fill me up already! Please!”

“God, you just love being filled up. Such a dirty girl, wanting to be filled up with my cum. You want all of my cum inside you? You want me to fill you up with all of my cum?”

“Yes!” You hollered weakly. Dots were blinking in your vision, your body tightening with your inevitable release. “Please fill me up Tommy. I want to cum with you. I love the feeling of your cock so much, but i want to feel you inside me.”

“Fuck, thats hot,” he muttered, shoving into you faster than before. He pushed up onto his feet, releasing your neck so he could steady you against him. His entire body was used to push into you, every part of his body leveraged to excite you over the top. He wanted to make your next orgasm one to remember. He wanted to have you releasing on his cock more than you thought was possible. He wanted to explode every drop into you. “Cum with me, Y/N. Please baby, cum all over my fucking cock.”

You moaned in response, body nearly going limp from your orgasm. Your stomach hurt from trying to hold back, so you didn’t keep it in. The knot was burned away, and you were spilling everything you had onto his length, making it slick enough to still slide in and out of you as he thrust sloppily. Your walls were clinging to him desperately, convulsing with every droplet you released that stuck to his length.

Your tight, wet cunt made Thomas’ head spin like before, his own high nearly. Your core was hugging him close, squeezing him lifeless. The warmth was making him throb and twitch, finally exploding his load into you with one loud grunting groan. His thick seed shot from the tip, painting along your inner walls like white paint. The former runner let out a prolonged mewl of approval, thrusts slowing, letting your walls milk him of every last bit he had built up.

Your bodies finally collapsed from exhaustion, Thomas remaining inside you until he had softened to a tiny chub. His fascination led him to watch his arousal slip from your pussy lips, the man licking his lips slowly.

“That’s something to remember…” he whispered to himself before moving to kiss your shoulder blades. “We should get some rest. Then tomorrow, we can try to find a way off this island and back home.”

He didn’t receive a response.

“Y/N?”

He turned you over, finding you sound asleep, chest rising and falling steadily. You had a gentle smile ebbed onto your lips, resting peacefully. The man chuckled, pushing back some of the hair that stuck to your sweaty forward, placing a sweet, loving kiss to your temple. Laying beside you, he curled you into his chest, struggling to pull the blanket over you to keep you warm in case the fire died out while you slept. His head rested on his sore arm, but he didn’t mind the pain; his comfort came from you beside him, in his arms - finally.

“Sleep well. And thank you for giving me a chance. I didn’t think getting stranded would be such a good thing...”

His eyes fluttered open, finding a small stream of sunlight filling the cave. It took a moment to process his surroundings. The fire had died, he was in a cave, and you were nuzzled into his side, bare naked and sound asleep. Thomas thought he was dreaming before recalling the wave and the boat crash, finding you stranded on an unknown island without a way home. He also remember the heated evening of confessions, apologies and sex that blew his mind.

Not in any rush to move, he pulled you into him, nestling his face in the rats nest atop your head. He could feel your lips curling up against his skin at this, the man chuckling. “Good morning,” he let out, voice raspy and deep with sleep.

“Good morning,” you muttered lowly. “Can we not move for a while? I hurt.”

“I’d figure,” he laughed. “I fucked you a lot last night.”

“And honestly?” you hummed. “I regret nothing.”

“That’s relieving actually. I’m glad I won’t have to be punched later to forcing you to have sex with me.”

“Never,” you laughed, struggling to look up at him. Thomas glanced down at your sleepy face, placing a soft peck to your lips.

“So, you are going to give me a chance later right? Like, when we can finally get home?”

“I thought I made that clear when I apologized for how I’ve been treating you,” you scowled playfully, punching his chest weakly. “And you kind of fucked me a lot. You’re not leaving me dry for a while.”

“I can handle that,” he smirked, pulling you into a deeper kiss.

The steamy kiss would ahve led to a heated round of unruly morning sex if your ears hadn’t perked at the sounds outside the cave. You pulled away from a disappointed Thomas, sitting up abruptly.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he asked.

Listening carefully, you heard the faint call.

“-Mas!”

“-/N!”

“Someone is calling our names?” you asked, glancing at the man who shrugged.

“Did someone manage to find us?” he thought aloud.

“Thomas!”

“Y/N!”

“Oh my god,” Thomas gasped, jumping to his feet and rushing to the cave entrance. “That’s Minho!”

“What?!” You exclaimed back, running after the man.

In your excitement, you both ran from the cave in search of the voices calling your names. Thomas’ hand clasped around yours to keep from getting separated, keeping you from falling over any trees or rocks. The voices grew louder as you rushed through the sea of green trees, pushing through bushes and in the mud.

In the distance, you locked eyes with the boy calling your name - Thomas friend from the maze and the former leader of the runners. Minho’s eyes grew when he saw you both run from the bushed, calling his name. You halted in the middle of a small clearing, panting for breath.

“Thomas, Y/N,” Minho uttered softly before his eyebrows scrunched up. “Why are you guys naked?”

“Eh?” you let out, looking down at yourself. Realizing what had happened, you shrieked loudly, hugging yourself. Thomas turned to hug you, glaring back at Minho.

“Look away!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Minho called, turning around. “I don’t want to stare at your bare ass anyway!”

“Fuck you,” Thomas growled. “How did you find us anyway?”

“We’ve been searching all night. When you didn’t come back, we pulled out the small motorboat to search for you. Someone mentioned the waves had picked up, so we thought something might have happened. We found the boat wrecked on the island-”

“Wait,” you called, stopping him. “There was a motorboat?”

“Yeah,” Minho said. “It’s always in the boat we used to get here. It’s not used very often to conserve fuel and all, but it’s pretty decently sized and everything.”

“We had a motorboat, and you set us out to go fishing on a wooden rowboat?!”

Minho blinked “Ummmm…”

“I’m going to kill you, Minho!”

The former runner took off with you hot on his tail, uncaring that you were still barren to the world. Thomas sighed as he watched you chase the man around the clearing, weaving through trees before tackling the man to the ground, scarring him as you beat him up.

“I guess I should be thankful,” Thomas told himself. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have ended up stranded here and had the night we did.”

“Thomas, help! Get her off me!”

“Can’t help, sorry,” Thomas called, turning away. “I need to go get our stuff from the cave. Plus, she hates me, remember?”

“Bullshit!”

“Take it easy on him, babe. He’s our way home!” Thomas teased, walking away.

“He dies tonight! I’m roasting Minho alive!”

“Good talk!”

“Thomas, don’t leave me with this monster! Something obviously happened and you can’t leave me like this!” Minho called, but Thomas was gone. “THOMAS!”

I’m not gonna tag anyone right now because my tag list is far too outdated and needs to be refreshed. I will figure that out... later.

2K notes · View notes

camelotsheart · 3 years

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Alright. I’m watching 1x11 and trying a new way of liveblogging. Which is just me writing random paragraphs. Enjoy.

A creature of magic mourning the loss of a creature of magic 😭

“Arthur is a hunter. It's in his blood. Whereas you are something entirely different.“ reminds me of “He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.“ “You are wrong.” Especially with the way that Arthur then proves what is in his heart by the end of the episode, and how his ‘heart’ is shown to constantly guide him towards the ‘correct’ choice in s5 (e.g. “My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred.“)

“You've got a face like a wounded bear ever since we got back from that hunting trip." Arthur means bear. I have no idea what to do with this information.

The unicorn as a metaphor for those sorcerers who “do no harm” and thus Camelot serves no purpose in killing them. Especially since people like the Disir and Alator describe the purge as a “hunt”.

The drought serving as a parallel to the events that happened before the purge to Uther, in that Arthur sees all the harm that “magic” is doing to the land and his people, just like Uther witnesses Ygraine’s death. Arthur initially refuses to accept that what happens is caused by him, just like Uther does. But unlike Uther, Arthur is able to acknowledge his mistakes given time (it’s interesting how in the book adaptation of 1x02 merlin makes this comparison too)

“If it is magic, it's more powerful magic than I possess.“ So unicorn magic is more powerful than Merlin’s magic. Would dragon magic be more powerful too? Is that why Merlin couldn’t heal Arthur from the poison of Mordred’s sword tha was forged in a dragon’s breath?

Merlin not understanding hand signals is my life 😂💖

Ok I can literally draw so many parallels between Anhora and Arthur’s first conversation, and Nimueh and Uther’s conversation in 1x09. Especially from how both Arthur and Uther seem completely unable to understand how the ‘curse’ that happened to Ygraine and Camelot was technically their fault.

“And could you bear for your children to see you be executed?“ The way in which Arthur says this breaks my heart because he does understand the feeling of blaming himself for the loss of a parent, just like those hypothetical children would. This is highlighted more by the fact that Evan later plays on Arthur’s insecurities about being his father’s son.

“If you're tested again, you have a chance to end your people's suffering. I know you want that more than anything." Reminds me of what Bradley says about Arthur putting Camelot above everything, even his personal relationships. Compare this to Lancelot and Merlin, who’s “something that is more important than anything” is a person (or people, in the case of Lancelot).

I LOVE S1 MORGANA. S1 AND 2 MORGWEN WOULD HAVE MADE A PERFECT QUEEN DUO FIGHT ME.

Merlin’s face when Arthur says he’s going to the forest to seek Anhorra out 🥺 Also the way he looks back like he wants to see the exact moment Arthur figures out that he’s eating rat meat 🤣 Merlin’s sarcastic little nod. Arthur’s shit-eating grin. This is what I mean by sibling dynamics.

AND THEN THEY TURN ON MORGANA ASDJSAJASLDKKLDJSA. MERLIN. ARTHUR. NO 🤣🤣🤣

“The King must wonder if you are even his son.“ I absolutely do not like how Anhora chose to do the test with Evan here. I hate it. But it does prepare Arthur for a lot of things. It prepares him to do things his father normally would not do. It prepares him to ignore when people compare him to his father (not that it worked with Agravaine, but Arthur does eventually come around most of the time with Merlin’s help). I find it like a mini 5x03 in a way. Also the fact that Arthur doesn’t even try to defend himself by saying that the looter would have been executed by the law of the land anyway; because deep down he knows that reasoning is wrong. What needs to be changed currently is Arthur’s arrogance in regards to his honour, not his internal morals. He has already proven his internal morals with saving Mordred, laying down his life in 1x09, as well as rescuing Ealdor and his reaction to finding out Will was a sorcerer in 1x10. Right now, Arthur needs to be able to accept that he is wrong.

“Besides I would rather starve than beg my enemies for help! What of our kingdom's reputation? Have you no pride?” “I cannot think of my pride when our people go hungry. They're all I can think of.” I’m screaming over the fact that what ends up beating sense into Arthur is his love for his people. I want to cry. He loves his people so much that his battle cry is “for the love of Camelot” 😭❤️

“Very well. But if you'd caught the sorcerer, I would not have to. That's your responsibility! One day you will understand what it takes to be King!” One day, Uther, you’ll learn to blame yourself for other people’s suffering.

“My people are starving. Camelot is on the verge of collapse. And it is all my doing.“ IT DIDN’T EVEN TAKE ARTHUR A DAY TO LEARN THIS I WANT TO CRY 😭 FUCK YOU UTHER YOU DON’T DESERVE ARTHUR AT ALL. (also the fact that Arthur fiddles with Ygraine’s ring as he says this 😭❤️)

“I trust Arthur with my life” the fact that arthur proves that trust right both in this episode by drinking the goblet and in the previous episode by admitting that he “of course” would not kill Will despite thinking he was a sorcerer.

Why the hell does Anhora use a sword to cast the vine spell.

“I thought I told you to stay at home.” Every time Arthur calls Camelot ‘home’ for Merlin I 🥺

Are those carvings... horseshoes...? Making the shape of a heart....? I--

(Sorry guys. By this point it’s 200% certain that my shipper brain is going to take over. Please expect a lot of screaming)

“What kind of ridiculous test is that? What does that prove?” “What it proves is for you to decide.” Which means that by the end, Arthur realizes what this test proves. And he proves what is truly in his heart by sacrificing his life for merlin. Remember “To sacrifice his life to save Gwen’s... I can’t imagine any man loving me so much.” “I certainly can’t imagine that either” “That’s because you’re not like Merlin. He’s a lover” “Yeah? Maybe that’s because I haven’t found the right person to love”. Remember how in the book adaptation this episode, it says that Arthur proves that there is love in his heart by giving his life for Merlin? Remember “there was magic at the heart of Camelot”? Remember how in the book version Arthur doesn’t deny having love in his heart when Anhora says so when the Unicorn lives again, and instead turns his head to smile at Merlin--

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.” @thebookluvrr1816 More 1x11-finale parallels to scream about 😭 The book version describes Merlin’s surprise at this statement, and how he thought it was “ironic and unfair” that they understood each other "at the very moment that death was about to tear them apart.”

“No, I will drink it!” “As if I’d let you.” Someone stop these dollopheads from having a domestic about who will die for the other i beg

“You know me, Merlin. I never listen to you.” reminds me of “I’m the king Merlin, you can’t tell me what to do.” “I always have. I’m not going to change now.” Also, in the books Arthur actually says “farewell, Merlin” after this. Book Arthur is way more suave just saying.

HOW ARTHUR LOOKS INTO MERLIN’S EYES IN HIS FINAL MOMENTS UNTIL HE ISN’T PHYSICALLY ABLE TO ANYMORE. SOMEONE HELP ME 😭

“This was Arthur's test, not yours.“ idk but this reminds me of the fisher king saying “For this is not Arthur's quest, it is yours.“

“You've killed him! I was meant to protect him!” This is going to sound harsh but by this point I think Merlin was still putting Arthur’s destiny above Arthur himself. In the books, there’s a distinct difference in how he feels about Arthur’s death in this scene compared to 1x13 (I’m amazed at how fast his feelings changes, actually). Here, I feel like he focuses more on his own failure to protect Arthur as part of his destiny, but in 1x13, he says that the idea of destiny not being fulfilled was nothing compared to the idea of not being by Arthur’s side. I wonder what happens between this and 1x13 for Merlin’s feelings to change so much.

THIS HAS PROBABLY BEEN STATED MULTIPLE TIMES BEFORE BUT “HE HAS PROVEN WHAT IS TRULY IN HIS HEART“ AS THE CAMERA FOCUSES ON MERLIN. PRODUCERS YOU AIN’T SNEAKY.

Merlin’s smile as he looks down at Arthur sleeping 🥺

Arthur looking at Uther’s hand on his shoulder as if he’s trying to identify a foreign object 🙂 I can never say this enough but fuck you Uther.

“When he who kills a unicorn proves himself to be pure of heart, the unicorn will live again.” this is a stretch but it reminds me of “when Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.”

And that’s done! I have a small meta that ties the theme of Arthur and magic in this episode to the same themes in 1x10, but I might do it on a separate post since this one is already so long 😂

#bbc merlin #merlin meta #long post #1x11 #merthur? merthur #someone stop me from having 4 spirals every episode #this is why my chronological watches take me so long

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httphonsool · 3 years

Text

unpleasantly peasant

synopsis; in which king agust d is a backstabbing brother, and he just wants a wife he can control, but min yoongi doesn’t think he likes either of those ideas very much.

word count; 8.4k

time taken; too bloody long

warnings; cutting, blood, people die, heartbreak, angst, sexual activity is mentioned a few times, reader curses out a servant, yeah i think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anything else

notes; this was supposed to be out much earlier, a few months earlier actually, I’ve spent too long on this and I still feel that I could have done better, however I will be writing more often now, my serenity series is on hold for now, I’m writing a spy!jungkook au which I think you guys may be interested in ! Anyway I hope you guys like this, let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see me write.

Seven years ago…

“You’re a bloody bastard, I swear on God,” Min Yoongi spits.

“And you are not the king.”

“But I should be…you were illegitimate, your mother left you at the feet of the throne, she was not married to our father yet you were still born, you have no fucking right!” Yoongi cries, pain evident, sliding his sword out of its sheath and slicing a cut down his brother’s eye.

And all he gets in return is a laugh, right in his face; just before two guards come take hold of Min Yoongi’s arms

“I told you. You are not the king. I make the decisions.”

“The fuck is wrong with you!? I took you in, took care of you, and loved you when no one else did! Even our father rejected you and I still loved you! You were my brother!” Min Yoongi bawls while he struggles to get out of the guards’ grips.

“And that’s why he’s dead. And you’ll be dead soon too. So I’d run if I were you, you’re being given the chance.”

“I hope the woman you wish to marry is the one that stabs you in the back the hardest. Though, I’d be surprised if you are still alive by the time that happens,” and that’s the last thing Min Yoongi is able to spit at his brother before he’s thrown out of his own home.

He doesn’t know when, or how, but he will seek out his revenge.

But right now his name was forgotten in a series of memories a woman would seek to delve in and retain many years later.

Seven years later…

Agust sits on his throne, lazing around, immersing himself in the golden, intoxicating paradise he unrightfully owns, one ear listening to the names of women whom he could marry, the other ear listening to his greed, smiling at the treasure around him.

“Kim Eunha, she…your majesty?” his advisor asks.

“No, tell me something else. I do not want hear about women, why marry one when I can be unmarried and have them all?” Agust chuckles, chuckles turning into full blown laughter. Oh, how obscene King Agust is.

Silence is marred by the filthy sound of footsteps and heavy panting

Loud footsteps carry across the throne room, a breathless man’s voice echoing and bouncing off of the walls.

“My lord, dear, there is a kingdom, in the far off land, they need our troops. They are willing to…” A small, pudgy man curled on the floor forces out, “they are willing to send you their daughter, her hand in marriage,”

“How far is this kingdom?” Agust asks.

“Twenty-one days, sir, we can make it in nineteen if we lessen breaks in between,” the man pants out.

“How old is this daughter of theirs?”

“Just turned twenty.” Ah, the poor girl is four years younger, so innocent, so pure, what a shame her purity will now be tainted.

It’s a shame she is having to give her freedom away this quick, but then again, not everyone is as lucky as to be as free as King Agust.

Not everyone is that obscene either.

And exactly nineteen days later Agust is circling around a fair maiden, examining closely her beauty, every inch of her skin.

And God this kingdom did not disappoint with their women, especially this princess.

Not a speck marking her skin, no flaws, she was perfect in every sense, in every glance, and that is what made the decision. Agust would provide the kingdom support, and power, in return, he would be gifted the kingdom’s first, and only, princess.

Agust doesn’t care about how the woman (barely a woman) feels- for him her beauty is enough to capture his attention more than any other woman has or ever will.

It’s like someone has hit him with a rock: he’s in shock with the pure, unmarred sight of her, his inside coiling in pleasure at the thought of marrying her.

Who cares if Agust didn’t want to marry? He does now.

Maybe it’s the way she looks, maybe it’s her posture, the pure innocence she radiates, but he, the King, truly, really, wants her, more than he has ever wanted anything ever before.

How sweet, how pure, is love at first sight?

In most cases, it does not get sweeter than the bliss you feel in a peaceful spring afternoon, for others it does not become bitterer than your relative’s final words.

But he does not care for the bitterness nor the sweetness; he cares for his future queen.

It’s a shame his love was bittersweet and toxic to the core.

19th July, twelve weeks before your wedding...

A man once told you that when you face times of trouble, you must stand your ground and work the situation through single-handedly, but you have never been strong enough to do so, or to exercise this practice. The only way you knew to defend yourself was through your words and your sword, in some cases the words became your sword.

But what do you do when you cannot use either?

You’ve never thought you’d end up walking around a palace that isn’t yours late at night trying to find an escape route, yet here you are, running around, the soles of your feet pressing against the floor with the cold marble being the only thing your sensitive feet can feel, it was not usually this cold at night back in your kingdom.

When you were first told the only way to save your country from being thundered by your enemy was to be gifted to a King, you accepted, you already knew your people came before you, but dear God did you make a mistake.

Yet now you’re to be wed to him. You’ve also been made into a mere dancer, someone that would be given no respect in your Kingdom, the anklet full of bells constantly ringing was the consistent reminder of your status. It’s almost like you’re a concubine. You have no power, and whereas you used to have enough energy to defend yourself, you know that if you try anything now you would end up in a position much worse than how you are right now, all because you gave yourself away.

And it was on your own accords.

You’ve never looked so pathetic, scurrying around, messing up your skirt and almost stabbing yourself with a sword strapped loosely with string (taken from the loose threads of your clothing) to the waist of your embroidered clothing, just to find an escape route.

The main doors aren’t a possibility since they’re guarded. You cannot leave through a window, there are guards surrounding the whole place, you’ll be caught and given a fate which is worse than death…so maybe-

A shuffling sound. It’s almost like leaves rustling.

You whip out your sword, cut yourself on the arm in the process, and slash it around only to be met with the hard, shattering clang sound of metal. You can’t think properly, you’ve never had to actually fight, especially not against a foreigner for God’s sake

Your body goes numb, your mind goes blank and all you can think is intruder, intruder, intruder, intruder. For all you know this could be your last breath.

And all of a sudden you’re pressed up against the wall with a blade against your throat, your own sword now on the floor and prayers flowing out of your mouth whilst you stare into the eyes of your attacker, a face so familiar but a feeling so different.

He looked almost exactly like your fiancé. He just has shorter hair, black, and from what you could tell in the faint glow of the moonlight, he has the same scar, but it looks prettier than his lookalike’s, there was a certain beauty about him, but you can tell he could not care any less than he does about being caught by you.

“Who are you? You’re not from around here.” Neither is he, he looks like he belongs with the peasants from the way he’s dressed.

“Neither are you.” You spit.

“Where are you from? Are you that bastard’s whore?” The boy leans in closer, pressing the blade of sword even harder against you until you have no more space left to move.

“I could kill you,” He tells you when you refuse to answer him; your vision goes blurry with tears threatening to spill. It’s not normal for you to shed tears; you’re used to holding it in because you have to set an example for the younger girls back home.

“You wouldn’t kill a princess,” You whimper, it’s like something clicks in his eyes immediately, grip loosening against his sword and swinging it back into place to rest at his hip.

“So you’re a princess? You’re useful,” a small smirk plants itself on the man’s face.

You shouldn’t trust him, but you cannot help it, he is the most normal person you’ve met in this place so far, in fact he is the only other person you’ve met and have talked to, so maybe you are just desperate, or maybe you are trusting your instincts too much, but you are already in a difficult position, it cannot get worse than this, than being stuck in a foreign land and having to marry a king who couldn’t give a shit less about you and your feelings, just his desire.

But something about him is comfortable; it tastes sweet, sweet like a summer’s day spent in the forest near your home feasting on the most extravagant delicacies your homeland could offer.

“What’s wrong with you? Why the hell are you so pathetically quiet? I thought you were a princess not a slave.” He spits. Oh, if only he knew. “And what were you doing? What were you doing in the middle of the night? Trying to leave? If there was a way out, you would have left by now.”

How does he know?

“Who are you? I’ll call the king, I’ll call his guards! Don’t even think about touching me.” Ah, you’ve finally regained some sort of brain. Though you are lying, you would not call the king, not when this man is your only hope so far.

“Shut your dumb mouth. I don’t want to touch you. Not when you are quite clearly his property,” he pauses, looking you up and down, a smirk etched onto his face, one you didn’t even mind, “though, you are a pretty sight.”

“No, I’m not his property, I am a princess, and I’d appreciate it if you could treat me with the same respect which you would treat your king with. Especially assuming that I am about to become his wife,” you step forward towards him, faking absolute confidence.

“Mm, but I don’t respect this king you talk about. I don’t respect manipulative fucks who use me to get what they want,” what is he on about?

“What?” You ask, confusion taking over your sense.

“You want to go back home?”

“Well obviously, isn’t this what we’re discussing?”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“I’ll spoil it for you now: no. No, you can’t go back, you do not belong to your country anymore. I mean they basically sold you didn’t they? You no longer have any worth even there, let alone here.” He laughs, “so pathetic, really, but, if you really wanted to get out of here…” so this was what it was, this was what he wanted out of you.

And you are so pathetic, so stupid you’re actually giving him what he wants.

“Please. Tell me.”

“Hmm, help me rip his life apart. You’re a warrior princess. I know where you come from, what they teach you. Help me kill him.” Him? Who is him?

“Him?”

“Your beloved fiancé, my dearest, bastard brother,” He chuckled, “who else? You really think I look like him for no reason?”

Oh, in God’s name what will you do?

You are not one for battles and murder; you have trouble even lifting your sword before someone else does.

What are you going to do? Kill him in his sleep? Rip his throat from his body? Please, that’s absolutely ridiculous; you barely have the power let alone the strength.

Who even is this man, besides having the role of being the King’s brother? How come you have not seen him before?

“Who are you?”

“Are you that stupid? Are you that dumb?”

“I asked a question,” you step forward once more, regaining your confidence.

“So did I,” He spits, “I’m his brother, he threw me out of here, now I’m back, look, do you want to leave? Or do you want be stuck in a marriage that promises you nothing but pain?”

“Why are you telling me? I could tell my fiancé.” He steps into you, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he pushes you back into the wall with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“You don’t really want to marry him, do you? Look me in the eyes and tell me,” he whispers. You falter, he’s right, you were just looking for an escape route, he caught you, and of course you will not speak to his brother.

“I want out,” a tear makes its way down your cheek, “I’ll do whatever,”

“Don’t worry for it, it’ll be handled, princess…” his hand makes its way to your face, gently tracing the outline.

And this, this is how you know you are with the right man in the moment, the sense of comfort felt was unspeakable, it almost felt like…

You were supposed to marry a man who treated you like a whore, but now you are not sure whether you will be marrying someone at all.

And maybe this was the perfect way out.

You meet him a few times more, discussing the plan and strategy; these meetings being in the safety of your dimly lit chambers, a little bit more up close and personal, and honestly you enjoy this closeness.

And it’s unfortunate really, but you seem to have taken a liking for the bastard king’s brother, it’s almost pathetic that you’re discussing your escape plan.

“Have you eaten? Has he hurt you today at all?”

“No, he ignored me today,” truth be told, you’re not sure why King Agust is ignoring you as such, it makes you wonder is he maybe that you met his brother? Or maybe he was sick of you and sick of your voice, your dancing, everything, maybe he would finally let you go? Unlikely, but you still wished for it.

“He must have smelt me.” Truth be told, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised to hear this either.

“What?”

“He must have smelt another man’s scent on you, we need to be careful, don’t come close to me.” But you like being close to him, you haven’t felt so comfortable being close to someone in such a long time.

“But I like this, I like you.” You thought maybe this would fluster him, but his face remained void of any emotion at all.

“I don’t have time to be friendly, I’m here to keep you company simply so that you trust me. And we’re going to the market place tomorrow, I’ll sneak you out, don’t worry, he won’t even notice you’re gone.” His hand comes up and cups your soft cheek, stroking your cheekbone, “stay safe, princess.”

And then he’s up and gone.

What does he even do here? You wonder as you stroll around the market place linked hand in hand with the man who had promise to save you from an unwanted marriage, and as much of a dick he can be, he’s still so pretty to look at.

And you know deep down he is so much nicer than he’ll ever show to you in a public place.

You’ll never tell him but he’s ten times better looking than his brother, because at least he does not force you to do things solely for his pleasure, and at least he’s gentle, and at least he cares; at least he isn’t an idiot.

Or maybe he is forcing you into things...but you’re gaining from this too.

And besides, for some fucked up reason you feel way too much affection for him.

“You know...you never really tell me how you are, it’s a little scary,” you don’t tell him how you are either, but you know it’s only because he doesn’t care.

“I’m fine. And you?” You don’t understand why, but hearing him talk so straightforward, so politely, well...politer than he’s ever been before to you anyway, but it makes you laugh, a pure chuckle. “What? What is it now?”

“No, nothing, you were just...being polite, it seemed too sweet,” you giggle uncontrollably to the point the people around you start staring too.

“Sweet? I don’t do sweet, it sounds disgusting, I think what you mean is that I’m playing nice, and in that case, if it’s such an issue, I can go back to being a dick, if you would like, so you can dislike me all you want, I don’t care,” that’s a lot of talk for someone who doesn’t care, it only just makes you giggle more, until it finally settles in your head what he’s just said, you stop him from leading you further down the market, linking your other hand in his as well.

“I hope you realise that I never disliked you, Min Yoongi, not even in the beginning,” and that’s when the giggles erupt again, just at the sound of his name. You like that. You like his name, even if it’d been corrupted by a man who should not even have the right to say it.

Yoongi jerks his hand out of yours.

“God, the only reason I even held your hand was so that I wouldn’t lose you, not so that you can get all sickly sweet and sentimental, please keep that between us in private.”

And that only makes you giggle even more.

Dear God, this is going to be a long day, Yoongi thinks, he almost wants to drown himself right now with the way you just can’t stop giggling.

But at the same time it’s kind of endearing.

And maybe he loves it…just a little bit.

“You know, I have never visited a marketplace. Not once.” You tell Yoongi, he doesn’t actually care, he probably isn’t even listening.

“And you’re telling me....why?” Yoongi asks.

“Because I want to tell you, so listen, or God forbid I’ll have my people stake you,” you jokingly threaten him.

“Okay, princess, tell me, or ask me, whatever you want,” well you didn’t expect that one, but you’ll accept it either way.

“You said he threw you out...tell me what happened,” it’s not even a question, more of a demand, and you know he’ll tell you. Min Yoongi pauses, his muscles tensing underneath your fingers from where you gripped onto his arm.

“he killed my father, that greedy bastard killed my mother too, then he told me to leave or he’d have me killed so I can join my parents, and well I guess he didn’t have the heart to kill me, we were always close growing up, I always took care of him like he was my younger brother...because well he was, but then he killed my father, and my mother, just because he wanted the throne, because he was tired of being ‘second best’, I miss it, I miss him, but after what he’s done to the people, and me, someone has to dispose of him.”

“The people?”

“Well, look around you, does anyone seem happy?” You stop in the middle of the market, taking a full three-sixty-degree turn and looking at people’s faces, full of sorrowful expressions, sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks.

“They look so downcast, so unhealthy.”

“They are, he can’t take care of a kingdom, he was never trained for it, and he was just greedy for power and...Women and money, he takes so much money from us that we’re left not being able to buy food to feed our families, or whoever we live with.”

“If this is where you live, why were you in the palace that night?”

“Let’s say I’m lucky I lived there my whole life. I know a woman that I grew up with, she lets me in when I want to see her. I don’t think I could live without her.”

Oh. There’s a woman.

And he can’t live without her.

Then why does he act so affectionate in private?

“Anyway, you told me you wanted to introduce me to someone in the market place?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there, there’s several places I needed to take you,” Yoongi drags you all the way to a butcher’s stand.

“___, this is my friend, he’s a butcher….he also um, executes in his spare time,”

“Oh.” You state, a sense of confusion settling in your brain.

“I think you know why you’re here, ___,” Yoongi whispers your ear.

“You need a favour from me, son? A favour just like last time?” The butcher asks, despite his overall gruff look, his voice is much smoother and silkier than you would have imagined.

You don’t know what favour Yoongi asked, and you don’t want to know either.

“When’s the next execution?” Yoongi’s voice lowers, almost as if he’s asking a secret.

“Day before the King’s wedding, why? You need me to sneak you in?” The butcher asks, an untamed brow being raised.

“Me and my…” Yoongi stares at you, eyes softening, “…accomplice, will be hopefully running away.”

“Ain’t that a crime?”

“Exactly. We’ll be caught; I’ll make sure of it.”

“Son, why are you telling me all of this?”

“When we’re presented in front of you to be executed-” Yoongi, eyes him.

“He won’t execute ‘er, he’ll fuck ‘er, chain ‘er up, but he won’t kill her…heard he’s been too whipped for this soon to be bitch of his to be able to do something of the sort,” you gasp at the vulgar language the butcher uses, raising your hand almost as if to slap him.

“How dare you? How dare you use such vulgar-” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder, your anger suddenly disappearing and transforming into nerves, Jesus Christ, why does he do that?

“I apologise, she’s not used to such areas-”

“My God, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’ve both been meeting each other behind the King’s back with the way you’ve been looking at each other,” The butcher chuckled loudly, a hard blush covering both yours and Yoongi’s cheeks.

Was it truly that obvious how you were towards each other?

“Imagine if he knew my whole plan,” Yoongi mutters to himself, “he isn’t a quiet lad, he’ll go around telling everyone.” He places his head in his hands, sighing.

“Hmm, the way you look at me…” you tease, rolling over in your bed and squishing his cheeks.

“Oh, God.”

“How do you look at me…I know you weren’t too fond of me that first night…” you dreamily place your hands around his neck, he calmly grabs your hands from around his neck, and places them back by your sides.

The sting of rejection injected in you had never stung worse.

“I mean at least I don’t hate you. It could be worse. I could be like him; at least I’m not going to beat you because I get mad at you at times, at least I treat you as I should.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You state, tears welling up, it’s pathetic really, and why are you crying?

“I’m sorry.” Is he? Is he really?

“You act so strange sometimes, it’s like one minute you’ll caress me, and make sure I’m okay and the next you’re ashamed of me. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

“I’m sorry, princess.”

You don’t reply after.

You don’t meet with him that night either, and he doesn’t bother showing up.

It’s midnight, and you’ve never been in worse pain…not after how you’ve been treated. On this day especially, the cut you accidentally made on yourself the night when you met the emotionally unavailable brother of your soon-to-be husband had finally made itself aware. The beating you got for accidentally marking up your skin was nothing compared to the deep cut he sliced on your shoulder blade in order to shame you for the stench of another man being found on you.

His proclamations of love meant nothing when he did this to you. He wasn’t a king he was a coward.

“Why are you not asleep?” You know who it is. He’s your only hope in this country, and with less than a week until you are to be wedded to his brother, you can’t afford to disobey him, not when you owe your life to him for saving you earlier.

His brother. His brother…a man that had absolutely no right to be on the throne, a man that treats you like exactly how a dancer would have been treated in your kingdom. He knows it too, what being a dancer for the king means in your culture; just the sound of bells wrapped tightly around your ankles was enough to strip you of your dignity, making you dance was just another way to ridicule you. All in all, nothing could prepare you for the slice his sword left just next to your left shoulder blade; nothing prepared you to be treated like a bitch on heat left to bleed to death later.

“It makes me uncomfortable,” you state, don’t let him know your weakness; don’t let him know your weakness, you’re stronger than that, are you not?

“Oh, really?” he doesn’t seem sympathetic at all, you can hear his footsteps nearing you, can see his face in the dim light of the burning lanterns scattered across your chambers as he sits in front of you, closer than ever before, and that is right when he draws his dagger out, using it to uncover the white netted shawl from back home that’s draped across your body, your mother gave it to you before she died.

What is he doing?

He moves his dagger into the burning candle wick, heating the blade. You are not quite sure what this man is doing, he could be about to kill you, he could be about to slit your throat, let you bleed out. Like what they did to the meat back home.

“I saw you dancing.” He states, sighing, the flame of the candle reflected in his pitch black eyes, “You dance well.” Now this man whom you trusted is just mocking you, does he not know how degrading it feels to be a dancer? To be stripped of your status, your name, and your home, your family only to be made a dancer for pleasure? For no other than the man who gave your father support in exchange for your hand in marriage?

“I’m a princess, not a dancer, I certainly shouldn’t be-” he presses his scorching hot dagger to the wound on your shoulder blade, pressing your head into his chest, allowing you to cry.

As much as the pain made you suffer, you couldn’t help but sigh with relief at the heat, tears escaping the seams of your eyes, and at the very least your wound will not be infected now. A small tickle, right inside of your ear, “You are not a princess, you are not royalty. You are a mere slave; if you had any noble status over here…you wouldn’t be dancing for that sick bastard of a brother. And if you knew what was best for you, you would run when I let you go.”

“Besides, I think your dancing is beautiful. Not for pleasurable purposes, I swear, princess, it takes skill to be as talented as you, you shouldn’t be mocked for it. I don’t see why it’s such tradition to be mocked for something as intricate as dance.”

It hurts the most because he is right; your status of being a princess means nothing to those in this kingdom, you’ll only be important once you are married to the poor excuse of a king yet you know that in this king’s eyes, you’ll only ever be his whore. But not if Min Yoongi steals the throne, then you could be free, even if it only leads to you wanting to go straight back to him, because over the past week, you’ve learnt how much you need him.

Yoongi presses the dagger harder against your shoulder blade, more tears escaping from your eyes, full sobs running out of your mouth, and all of a sudden the heat is gone, and so is the comfortable warmth of Yoongi’s embrace. You are unable to tell which one is more hated- you want him back either way.

Two dark orbs meet yours, and even in the dim light you admire his scar, only adding fire to his delicate, beautiful features, one that both brothers marked each other with-

For vengeance.

And it looks like Min Yoongi finally will claim his vengeance.

“Give me your hand, princess,” you are far too weak to give him your hand, so he takes your left hand himself, knowing that it is only adding to the pain in your left shoulder blade.

“I thought I wasn’t a princess? I am a slave…no?”

Yoongi plainly ignores your comment, placing his dagger in your hand.

A wave of shock passes through you. A man giving a woman his dagger back in your Kingdom meant much more than just a gift. It meant he was infatuated with you.

But Min Yoongi couldn’t.

“You may not be a princess to him, my brother may not respect your status but I will, and I always will, even after I’ve overthrown that son of a bitch, and even if you decide to leave me,” his fingers trace the outlines of your eyes, your nose, your jaw and finally, your lips. Contrary to his appearance, his touch is much softer than that of the linen used in the clothing your father used to have custom-made for you, his touch was softer than the soft hue of blue that painted the sky, and more comfortable than gossamer touching your skin. In return, you lift your left arm up, fingers extended, bearing the pain because infatuation is not delivered without at least some, and gently trace your finger over the beautiful scar left vertical across his eye. You are lost in the map of his undeniable beauty, so much so that you almost forget that you owe him for stopping an infection from forming in your wound.

“Take,” you pause, a searing pain bursting through your shoulder, Yoongi’s hand immediately comes to rub circles on your back, as you raise a fist clenched with your shawl, the same one your mother gave you, “this is a sign of my gratitude, for helping me, sell it I’m sure you’ll get money for resources or something, you can leave now if you must,” he blinks, facial features void of any expressions or feelings. And then it happens, rapidly, sharper than a blade, he swipes the dagger out of your hand and carves the lightest scratch beneath your collar bone which causes two more tears to trickle down your throat, the scratch is light, but still more than visible and you know you will be receiving a heck of a round of shame tomorrow when you see the king, he does not appreciate you being marked even further.

“How can I leave an untended wound? Isn’t that immoral?” He asks, “You realise, you still owe me one thing,” he trails off, and you can practically see the cynical smirk on his face.

“Me. I’ll gift you myself. I don’t want to marry him, so you take me instead.” You tell him, not a single second of hesitation, Min Yoongi stares at you dead in the eyes, all evidence of mischief and emotion drained from his face, taking your shawl and wrapping you in it, “Sleep, princess, it’ll be easier this time round,” clearly, Yoongi had no care for the way you felt.

“Don’t leave, please, I’d never leave you even if you let me go.”

But you didn’t expect the sting of rejection in your heart when he left. He didn’t want you. You misunderstood.

You are not wanted by Yoongi. And here you thought maybe someone really wanted all of you, but no, he just needs you for his damned plan.

Hand-holding seems like such a sweet, affectionate thing to do, but when you’re holding the hand of a man who clearly doesn’t care for you, it feels like more of a trap, especially when you have to announce a marriage to the people of his kingdom.

And it hurts worse when the man you’re seemingly in love with is standing behind a curtain, slightly visible only to you, staring at you with both admiration and pain evident in his eyes.

“…And to celebrate…grand execution…to rid our homeland of those who take it for granted…” you’re too focussed on your Yoongi, who’s staring ever-so cutely at you, emotions, for the first time in the period you’ve known him, showing.

It’s strange afterwards to say the least, there’s a slight look of betrayal on Yoongi’s face, and a sad sort of happiness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?” You ask him

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why?” you ask again.

“I’m sorry,” anger fills his face, tears drip down from his eyes, he pulls you into your chambers, gripping your face and squeezing it lightly.

“You better not change your mind about wanting to leave because if you do, God help me I will never let you leave,” he tells you, grabbing your forearm and squeezing your wrist.

“And what will you do? If I leave, what will you do?” You ask, tears rushing down your face, because maybe you were right. Maybe he did want all of you.

“I’ll find you, I’ll chase you-” he pauses, slipping the dagger hidden in your skirt out, dragging the tip of the dagger over the outlines of your face, and finally down to the surface of your throat, “-I’ll kill myself, and I’ll kill you too, and then maybe we would finally be at peace with each other, far off and away from Earth, with no one but each other.” a sad smile covers his face. If anyone were to be watching the scene they would have thought you both were psychotic, but you understood, he would never really kill you, but he’d never let you be someone else’s either.

You’re not sure where the sudden affection has appeared from as two nights before he completely ignored your statement about your love for him.

“…I’d let you kill me.” You let out a soft chuckle as he places a soft kiss against your forehead, taking his hands back and placing them on your waist.

“Even if I end up marrying him anyway, I’ll still spend the consummation with you.”

Yet, still, he doesn’t kiss you.

That night when Yoongi is ten minutes later than usual for the meeting in your chambers, something is off, something is different, smells different, there’s something wrong.

And all comes crashing down when he brings in a woman with him, neck bruised with her love bites, body stinking with the stench of his woman’s perfume. And you resented it.

Why would he do this?

“Princess, meet Jihyo, you may recognise her.”

“I do not.”

“Princess, I serve you breakfast each morning how could you not remember me?”

“I don’t care for you, I don’t care for him either, I don’t even care for myself.” You’re miserable, and you want him to see it, to see if he really cares.

But things were fine this morning? Had he not made it clear how he felt towards you? Why did he have to break you now?

“Jihyo will be helping you go the morning you run away, I’ve changed plans so that you won’t have to get hurt by him, I wouldn’t want to muck up on the day of the execution and have you executed, so I’ll be sneaking you out the morning of the execution, he’ll be busy so he won’t come seeking for you.”

“What the absolute fuck, Min Yoongi?”

“Princess-”

“Do you have no shame? I’ve confessed my never-ending love for you several times now, I’ve made it clear I won’t be leaving even if you want me to, so how dare you come in here with this whore of yours covered in marks she made and covered in her stench. You disgust me. You’re no different from your brother.”

Even Jihyo had nothing more to say.

“I knew you’d hate me in the end. But I’ll tell you anyways, my love, you’d be better off with someone in your own kingdom, and so you need to move on, and I, too, need to get you off of my mind before I make a decision I regret.” Yoongi says, refusing to make eye contact with you.

“No.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? To see me marked by a servant, doesn’t it disgust you that my standards are lower? Doesn’t it make you want to leave?”

“It does, it truly does,” you weep, tears spilling, your heart heavy with pain.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Jihyo rushes out of your chambers.

“I won’t be coming to see you again, my love.”

And you won’t be trying to find him either.

Jihyo throws your minimal belongings into a weakly knit rucksack while you watch, staring intently, unwilling to move.

“Princess, he won’t change his mind, he wants you gone and far away…and safe.”

“I won’t leave.”

“But he wants you to, don’t you want him to be happy.” It’s sickening to think that this entire time he just wanted you for the crown, he didn’t feel anything towards you, and he just wanted his crown back.

“Princess, he doesn’t love you. Don’t you see what I did to him?”

“I hate both of you.” You get up and grab the rucksack from Jihyo, storming out, finding your way through the halls to the courtyard, where you know the execution is taking place, you may as well bid your King farewell.

You really don’t understand what you’re trying to do, you shouldn’t be doing this because it’ll ruin Yoongi’s plan completely…but there’s a fire inside of you that’s encouraging you to keep going, and you won’t stop yourself.

But maybe you should have because it hurts even more than rejection when you see Yoongi on his knees blindfolded, with his hands bound by rope behind his back and a blade swinging towards his neck. You’re frozen; this wasn’t a part of his plan, was it? He was supposed to have escaped the ropes by now, why is he still there? And he’s not even bothering to move?

And neither can you, your body’s unwilling to move; knowing that if you do you’ll regret it, it’ll pain you terribly.

But you end up doing it anyway.

“No, stop!” All heads turn to you as you swing yourself at your king, sobbing uncontrollably, lungs gasping for air, “Yoongi,” you breathe, slipping his blindfold off.

“Why are you here, you should have left when you had the chance-” the bruises on his neck were long gone now, and he no longer smelt like Jihyo’s wretched perfume, just how you preferred it.

“I should have known,” the king scoffed, “you bloody slut,” Agust drags you away from Yoongi using your hands, cuts and scrapes make their way onto your knees, drawing crimson liquid, “I should have known when I first smelt someone else’s scent on you. You’ve been having an affair behind my back haven’t you?” Gasps pass around the courtyard; you forgot you had an audience for a moment.

“N-no.” He slaps you, grabbing your neck and choking you.

“Don’t lie to me, whore.” The king presses his nails so hard they cut into your skin, “How long since you’ve been seeing him,”

“A couple of months, when I first came,” You cry, struggling in his grip.

“My brother of all people, seriously, you could have-” the both of you can hear the movement behind you; it’s a rustling noise, heavy breathing and it takes you back to the night you first met Yoongi. The king and you both turn your heads slowly to see Yoongi trying to free himself out of the rope. The king scoffs and bellows with laughter, ripping his hand off of your neck and pulling Yoongi towards him, dragging him by his shirt.

“Yoongi?” You call, knowing it could get you in trouble.

He never listens anyway.

You can hear the grunts and shoves, and the yelps of pain coming from both of their mouths, but you don’t watch.

You don’t watch as the love of your life gets beaten by his brother.

You don’t watch as you hear them struggle to kill, hear the punches and grunts and the violent matter being dealt with, because you’ve never been able to handle the mere sight of blood.

There’s a long silence before you hear the sheer sound of metal slicing someone’s neck open and you look up to see your king holding a bloody sword.

You knew what that meant.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your ex fiancé’s body lying dead and cold on the floor.

The weeks go on by with a new king in place, the rightful king in his place. You haven’t talked to Yoongi since that day, scared to open your mouth in case he’d offer to send you back home, and you don’t want to go, you want to stay here, stay with Yoongi, so you’ll sit here quietly and play in this intense game of fear. He still invites you to eat with him though, tries to make small talk and smiles at you, but nonetheless, you remain ignoring him, barely eating and avoiding eye contact at all times.

There are times where you’ll be tempted to say something though, and tonight happens to be one of those nights.

“Is your room comfortable, I can have them give you a more comfortable room?” the bed makes my back ache.

“If you don’t like the food I can have them prepare something else for you?” the food’s fine, why won’t you just let me be.

“My king,” you hear a new voice, “we have some…enquiries shall we call it?”

“Yes?” Yoongi responds, placing down his cutlery.

“The previous king never married, the country’s been missing a queen for a long time now, it would be in your best interest to marry, don’t you think?”

“Mm, very well, who do you have in mind?” Yoongi responds. Is he fucking joking right now?

“There are many suitors who are interested…how about Miss Areum, she is your acquaintance since childhood, no?” Unwillingly you growl, extremely un-ladylike but you couldn’t help yourself.

The king can’t help but chuckle, a handsome chuckle at that, too.

“I think Princess ___ would make quite a perfect queen don’t you think? If only she would talk to me, then we could discuss it further.”

“Really?”

“Ah, so she does have a voice? I thought my queen-to-be lost her voice for a while.” Yoongi laughs and it’s a pure, joyous laugh, not cynical or evil like your late fiancé’s.

“I’m sorry, I was scared you’d be reminded of how you wanted to send me back if I spoke.”

“I only wanted that for your safety, princess, but the threat is gone now.”

And for the first time since the death of your fiancé, you laugh and you eat a full meal.

The days go on by yet again, winter approaches with heavy thunder and not a word has been spoken about your lover’s subtle marriage proposal, you wonder if he meant it at all.

So far you’ve spent your days scurrying around helping servants, making yourself useful, running around the market place and sewing. Yoongi doesn’t approve of you mixing with people in the market place, scared you’d get hurt or make a scene due to your uneasiness in the country; you ignored him per usual.

But yesterday whilst helping the servants with their tasks you saw Jihyo, and you couldn’t help but feel for her; you cursed out her name when she was really just doing her job, it’s not like she wanted to take part in hurting you, but she did anyways. So you talked to her, though you wished you hadn’t; you wished you hadn’t seen the hollow look in her eyes and the sallow skin on her cheeks: she was suffering, starving probably, and you wonder why Yoongi doesn’t do anything about it since he claimed he was so much better than his brother.

“Jihyo?”

“Oh, Princess!” She smiled, bowing her head slowly, weakly, and her smile didn’t meet her eyes.

“Jihyo, I wanted to apologise for cursing you.”

“Don’t worry about it!” why she was being so positive when quite clearly your words had cut through her, you had no idea, but you knew she was hurting as much as the other servants were, but she looked worse than all of them.

“Jihyo, you need to eat.”

“I have, I ate bread for lunch, Princess,” she sighed.

“Ah, my queen, I wondered when you’d come see me, I’ve been missing you, you know? Today I realised I still haven’t even kissed you.” Yoongi claims, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other he swung around your thighs getting ready to lift you, but you stop him.

“Yoongi you’re king now.”

“Yes.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You need to raise the servants’ wage.” You state. He stays silent, thinking for a moment.

“You know, I was so wrapped up in our stupid little plan to kill my own brother, I didn’t even think about what I would do if I were king.”

“Then figure it out, and then you can kiss me, and marry me too, if you wish.”

You wish Yoongi had figured this all out before so you could be happy together now, but unfortunately for him you won’t be marrying someone who hasn’t even thought of the people of his kingdom, you won’t let him be selfish like his brother.

As time goes on and as summer solstice passes you notice the changes, the cheerful workers and servants that pass you, and you can tell Yoongi’s stuck to his word, and this time when you see Jihyo, you’re not worried for the sake of her health, she looks healthy, and she has a ring around her fourth finger.

“Jihyo, is that really you?”

“Princess! You seem much more mature since the last time I’ve seen you.” Jihyo giggles.

“I’m sure I do…is that a ring? Who from? Are you married now?” A sick feeling rises in your stomach, though you knew Yoongi loved you, or had some sort of feelings for you since he still hadn’t properly confessed his love for you, you still couldn’t shake off the fact that Jihyo had marked him at one point, and while it may have been to convince you to leave, the image of it still bothers you.

“Not quite yet, but I’ll be married off by the end of this month to some rich family in the south, I’ll be gone,” a sigh of relief passes through your lips, “though, I will miss you, princess.” Blood rushes to your cheeks, painting them a flowery pink colour.

“I’ll miss you too, I hope your husband treats you well, Jihyo.” You smile at her, knowing that this was Yoongi’s doing, if he hadn’t raised their wages maybe Jihyo would still be looking as sickly and as weak as she was before.

“It is the king’s doing, you know? So maybe you should go see your lover, princess, maybe you’ll be married off by the end of this month, too.”

And maybe you will go see this lover of yours.

“My king? I’ve missed you.” You drag out your words to tease Yoongi, watching as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“Can I finally kiss you now? Are you happy with what I’ve done?” He slowly reaches his hands forward and rests them around your waist.

“I saw Jihyo today, she’s getting married off did you know that?” You ask him.

“I didn’t, I haven’t talked to her since…the time in your chambers…” his voices drifts off, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. Yoongi places his fingers under your chin, kissing your forehead, “I’ve never doubted your love for me, I suggest you don’t doubt mine for you either.”

“That’s easy for you, I’ve laid my heart bare for you to see, yet you took advantage of that and played with mine this whole time.”

“I’m sorry for that, my dear, but you know I’m not amazing with women.”

“You were pretty amazing with Jihyo.” You shouldn’t have said that.

“Don’t do that, don’t bring her into this, you know why I did what I did.”

“I don’t want to be played with; your brother did that well to me.”

“If I was my brother I wouldn’t have listened to you. But I did listen and look how happy everyone is.” He’s right, you know he is.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questions, brushing stray hair strands out of your hair.

“Okay,” you laugh, pushing yourself onto your tippy toes.

Yoongi gently grabs your face, pulling you towards him, and the moment your lips touch; you fall weak at the knees, all that wait was finally worth it as you both fell to the floor stripping off your clothes as you do so, and when Yoongi picks you up to carry you bridal style to his bed, he pauses, muscles tense.

“What’s wrong? If you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.”

“Oh, I forgot to ask you if you wanted to marry me.”

Needless to say you said yes.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #bts fanfic #x reader #min yoongi #bts angst #bts imagines #angst #daechwita #royalty #jimin #jungkook #taehyung x reader #taehyung #oneshot #imagine

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 3 years

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y’know something that’s bothered me for a couple of weeks now is how the other week, someone told me that the fact that you get nook miles for changing your character’s outfit in animal crossing made AC a “childish” game to play above, like, strategy games or whatever else.

like okay yeah. it’s a little redundant, i guess, to get nook miles points for changing my character’s outfit in the game….. but like…. that’s what makes it fun??? and there is some strategy, for me at least, in playing animal crossing…. mostly to make money and purchasing items for my island or rearranging my house or updating bridges/inclines on my island etc etc.

but just because one of the ways to make points is something as simple and frivolous as changing an outfit, doesn’t mean that there’s some type of strategy or some type of other thing about higher order thinking skills.

and plus. games don’t have to be that fucking deep all the time. because although i play ac every day mostly to keep my island going and for my mental health…. at least it’s keeping me busy and getting me to use my brain (from time to time lmao). like i practice planning on it and stuff. i practice financial management (lmao) on some level too…. with saving money in the bank to upgrade my house…. or when i do upgrades on stairs/bridges, i pay the loan in full??? all which are things in the real world/irl that many millennials (both younger and elder)/early gen z can’t actually fucking do. how is this not good??? i actually having spending power!! and that’s powerful! lmao. even if it’s fictional.

but just because i’m not playing god knows what strategy game (or even something like COD or whatever) to flex my strategy skills and whatever not…. it doesnt mean you dismiss or diminish it as “childish”. like y’all. after the hell i had in hospital from nov 2020 til jan this year, and coming out of hospital…. animal crossing has helped my mental health by giving me something to focus on and giving me tasks to do….. albeit in a fun way. but just because one of the menial tasks on it to get points is “changing your characters clothes” it doesn’t mean that it’s pointless or some other negative word. just because i’m not carrying out some idek fucking reconnaissance mission in fuck knows what army type shooter game like COD or halo or idek something similar in assassins creed type or borderlands type rpg’s, it doesn’t mean i’m not using the “strategic thinking” part of my brain.

anyway my point is that video games dont have to be fucking deep and flex your critical thinking and strategic thinking skills all the fucking time to be deemed “real gaming” when people play them. sometimes the most strategic thing is placing a bridge next to the able sisters clothes shop right next to your house or idek putting some mario teleporting tubes in your front yard and by nook’s cranny so that you can make bank quickly on your old stuff in storage and making the hot buy items lmao.

and the best part is, for me anyway, it’s actually fucking relaxing instead of having like 10 dudes in your team (if you play halo/COD multiplayer online) screaming at you all at once to do shit. or you’re not having to complete missions on a time limit all the time in some solo hero game. instead you’re building a community (an imaginary one, but still) slowly, and planning (ok not fully, my island decoration is haphazard…. but at least i’m at a 4 star rating now lmao) and designing an island to live on. again, it reminds me of when i told a guy in my homeroom back in year 9/2010 that i was still playing neopets and moshi monsters and he scowled at me saying that “those are for babies, not like COD. grow up!” although i did play my fair amount of single player shooter games on neopets anyway 🙄🙄 (that on top of everything, i was actually pretty good at lmao).

but i guess it’s that the building a community and a home etc thing is seen as “girly” and “babyish”/“childish” whereas being a lone hero in every shooter game or other RPG game is seen as “manly” or “adult”. because again, you have to actually have “plans” (apparently) whether you play with a team or not…. all bc you’re using your strategy skills to “survive” in the game…. while earning points for things like changing your clothes or talking to your neighbours or “improving island life” and everything else that you get nook miles points for on animal crossing…… is seen as “too easy” and again “girly” or “childish” because you have to actually CARE about the thing and almost “raise” it like a kid…. and not usually just mindlessly shoot at shit or fight/kill people or idk magical beasts or be the hero of some type of quest or mission like many (i assume on large scale) of the typical “manly” strategic games are like.

like sorry i like caring for my villagers even though they’re fictional, fred. sorry that i like easy points and casual games over some overly intense team game play games like COD or halo… or sorry that i don’t like overly intricate quests to do constantly that “save the land and yourself” or whatever fuck in like final fantasy or skyrim or assassins creed (although i do want to eventually buy those games and play them casually). let people have easy games and find pleasure in them. just let people chill the fuck out and not have to really think about shit all the time.

and plus, i bet many people let their young kids (like 6 to 10 year olds) play animal crossing; which i think they’d much rather have them play than COD or whatever other shooter game tbh. because i know i would rather a kid that young to play AC over something like halo. let kids have more kid friendly games as well. because even for them, not everything has to be a way to build their strategic thinking/critical thinking skills, imo. let them have fun chopping wood down or diving for sea critters. or, hell. some kids might even like changing their parents character’s clothes to the outfit that they like their parent’s character (or even their own character’s) to wear lmao.

like for fucks sake. let everyone from kids to adults have some time to chill/relax and have fun. why does everything have to be competitive (which is what many of the big shooter games really are, when they’re played online multiplayer mode in teams…. imo anyway) and tactical/planned??? let people, no matter their age, have their unrestrained play/fun and rest…. when so many things that are hobbies nowadays are basically being forced into being “side hustles” or “something to learn from” etc etc. because sometimes you just need to fucking switch your brain off by talking to a raccoon who sold you an island and his 10yo sons who run the island corner shop; and other various fictitious anthropomorphic animals.

anyway here’s a fun rant for july.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #the someone was actually my dad lmao but still #animal crossing: new horizons #acnh #animal crossing #the second last edit paragraph is actually about my nephew lol but still

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kemetic-dreams · 4 years

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Step 3: Ikenga

by Omenka Egwuatu Nwa-Ikenga "Ikenga m kwalu otu, njee mge ona mmuo" (As long as my Ikenga is active I can wrestle in the land of the spirits)

Welcome back to the 13 steps. In Step one, you learned how ncheta (remembrance) is the basis for all the other steps. In Step two, you learned on the power of your potential & kinetic energies (Chi na Eke) and how important it is to make sure they are kept in harmony with one another. Now we will again return to a common experience that nearly all humans share. Unlike the first 2 steps, you should have quite a few memories of this one.

Do you recall the various things you wanted to be as a child? If you were anything like me, that list included alot of things through various ages. And do you remember what you did once you decided to be something? Well, you began in what is now called “make believe.” Without being coached or trained, you and your various playmates could pretend to be whatever you wanted and engage in any activity your minds could muster. You likely pretended to fight battles or engage in space exploration. Maybe you pretended to be a director and used dolls and toys as actors. The key takeaway here my brothers and sisters, is that you used the power of your imagination to create the reality you desired, even if it was a temporary thing

Now today, if you happened to stumble upon the “self help” section in any bookstore, or undergo any form of coaching or training, you will likely be told about something called “creative visualization.” A very simple definition of it would be utilizing the power of your imagination as an aide to getting better results in your life. Countless people have used it to beat addictions, overcome their fears, as well as acquire new skills. Sound familiar? It's once again a reminder of how you need to remember things as an adult that you did naturally as a child, isn't it?

Now remembering the lessons from “Step Two" and Eke have been with you as long as you’ve been on this planet, even if you’re not as in sync with them as you once were. And as I said in that lesson, Igbo culture (along with many others) left a number of reminders for you of the various things you came into the world knowing. The one reminder we will cover today is the one that goes by the name “Ikenga.”

This figure is shared amongst the Urhobo, Edo, and Igala, but the Igbo version is the most well known. Just like Chi na Eke, an entire series of books would be needed to properly expound upon Ikenga. One popular definition of Ikenga is "place of strength." However, for the purpose of this step, we will say that Ikenga is a symbol of achievement, especially through the use of your right hand. On a sidenote, it goes without saying that for most human beings, their right hand is their dominant one. For the 10% of you for which that’s not the case, just apply this same rationale to the hand that is your dominant one for this step.

The first aspect of Ikenga we will discuss is its appearance. They come in various shapes and sizes, but one key aspect is horns, typically that of a ram, which is prizes for its aggressiveness. Just like the ram, Igbos believe that one must plunge into a venture in order to succeed. Contrary to misinformation by Igbo Christians, Ikenga, much like other sacred objects, was not an item of worship but a visible representation of things that were invisible. In this case, Ikenga represents your divine self image. In other words, a self image based on your Chi (your unlimited potential), working in unison with your Eke (your limited kinetic energy). Ikenga is thus said to be a gift or symbol of one’s Chi. Anyone who has either achieved consistent success or studied/coached those who have, is aware of how critical having a healthy self image actually is. With an unhealthy self image, your numerous self doubts will usually defeat you before you even get started. Even if you do happen to achieve success despite a negative self image, you will likely be the victim of your own self-sabotage.

"Ebune jị isi éjé ogụ" (The ram goes into a fight head first)

Ikengas were not limited to individuals, but communities could also have them (sometimes called Ikeoha). These communal Ikengas were representations of the achievements and ideals of a community. The Ikenga of the United States of America holds a torch in her right hand, and stands tall in Liberty Island in New York Harbor

The second aspect of Ikenga we will discuss would be its adaptability, meaning its ability to change. Young men would typically get an Ikenga carved when they began their various vocations. In some ways, you could say it would be very similar to receiving a diploma in today’s world. However, an Ikenga was not permanent, and it could evolve as the owner’s roles changed. A young man whose main task was defending his village would receive a warrior’s Ikenga holding a sword, whereas when that same man became a more accomplished elder, he would now have a title holder’s Ikenga holding a sacred staff. Alternatively, if a man chose a profession that didn't bring him much success, he could throw away the Ikenga (self image) that was not helping him and choose a new Ikenga (and possibly a new profession) that did.

Ikenga adighi ile, azilaa ya nku" (An Ikenga that is ineffective, cut it for firewood)

The third aspect is persistence. Once an Ikenga was established, a routine was established to straighten it. Regular offerings of kolanut, alligator pepper, and libations were made to it, often during the igo ofu ututu (traditional morning prayer). To the uninitiated, it would appear that the Ikenga itself is being worshipped, but I want to reveal a secret to you: If one makes a prayer, whether spoken out loud or silently, your mind cannot help but create a mental picture of whatever choice of words you use. For example, if I mention a pink elephant, you can’t help but imagine one. The same applies to things like positive thinking, affirmations, proverbs, etc. What would happen if you constantly reminded yourself of your goals? Regularly repeated words of encouragement and positivity? And returning back to your childhood, how powerful could your imagination be when if it focused on a long term goal? And even more so when you also dedicate yourself to constant practice and honing of your skills?

"Ikenga chim nyelum, taa oji" (Ikenga, gift of my chi, participate in the offering)

So in summary, an Ikenga is a divinely based self image, that changes as needed, and is fed/reinforced by persistence and dedication. And here’s a final thought my brothers and sisters. One thing about dedication is that you must accept that you’re typically not going to be very good at most things at the beginning. In fact, you’re very likely to be quite bad. However if you stick with it and learn from your mistakes, not only will you improve, you will likely become quite good.

At some point you did not have the ability to read these words at all, but through repetition and practice over time, you gained that ability didn’t you? The same applies to just about everything you now have the ability to do (walk, talk, drive, write, etc). So instead of saying that you cannot do something, you should say you haven’t done it yet. The former may or may not be true, but the later definitely is. With a harmonized Chi na Eke (as well as working in conjunction with others), the only real limit in this universe you probably have is time. So if that's the case, why are you limiting yourself?

Step 3: I choose a divinely based self image that helps me creates the results I want and can change it when it no longer does so.

Action item: Create an Ikenga. You can draw it, or just write a description of it. Make sure to mention it in your daily prayer from step 2. Include the type of life you want to create as well as some of the goals you want to achieve. And stay tuned for step 4, which is coming out on the next new moon, November 15. Yagazie (It shall be well with you).

#arochukwu #igbo #kemetic dreams #odinani #african spirituality #african culture #african #africans #ikenga #ram #omu #chi #ncheta #eke

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fizzyxcustard · 4 years

Text

The Right Thing

Masterlist of all fanfics/headcanons/prompts here

Fandom: seaQuest 2032

Pairings: Lucas Wolenczak x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, insecurity, age difference (but legal), language (mild)

Word count: 6505 (a longer one)

Summary: You are a Lieutenant aboard the seaQuest DSV vessel, under Captain Oliver Hudson. You have been aboard for two years and in that time have grown very close to Lucas Wolenczak. But not only are you of higher rank, you are ten years his senior (he’s 20). As your feelings deepen and Lucas opens up to you about how he feels, your anxiety rises. Will everyone be judgemental of you for loving a younger man? Others aboard the boat, and shore leave, help you to see how right you and Lucas are for each other.

Comments: If you have any questions regarding this fic and the fandom, by all means message me. I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. I will probably try and make graphics for my fics in future if people are interested in reading more of this as I have a full length fic in the works and a prequel one-shot as well. If you would like to be added to my tag list for anything seaQuest related, please leave me a message or comment. The above image shows Captain Oliver Hudson (left) and Ensign Lucas Wolenczak (right) from the show.

Never before had you felt this awkward, torn and utterly disgusted with yourself. Whenever you sat beside Lucas on the bridge, you could feel his stare now and again as he turned his mesmerising blue eyes from the helm monitor. True, you had always had a very deep friendship with Lucas, who was now an Ensign and seemed to be on duty with you more than any other officer, but the tension was becoming too much. He was two months past twenty and you were the wrong side of thirty. However, most people assumed you to be younger than Lonnie, at twenty-one, but no, the years were against you. In fact, you were the same age as Tim O’Neill.

That day was rather uneventful. Your shift passed by without incident. You laughed with Lucas, Jim Brody and Lonnie in the mess hall. But again, you could sense Lucas’ eyes on you.

Captain Hudson was at a UEO summit meeting, leaving Commander Ford in charge. It was always more laid back and chilled when Jonathan Ford took the helm. No complaints, no shouting, no frustration. Ford had been on seaQuest now since her first tour, along with Lucas and Tim. The rest of the crew, including you, came later. All of you missed Captain Bridger, who had been more than just a Captain, but a friend and a fatherly figure.

“Have you got any plans for shore leave?” Lucas asked you suddenly.

You swallowed hard and turned to face him, pulling your headset from off your head. “Not at the moment, no,” you replied. “You?”

This was all your conversations had become now. Idle chit chat. Whereas when Captain Bridger was still your skipper, you and Lucas would spend time together, laughing at stupid movies, listening to music, taunting Tony Piccolo and simply basking in the things of youth.

Lucas knew there was something very wrong between you both; he could sense it. He didn’t have to be like Wendy Smith, psychic; he could see the cold shoulder that you gave him often. He watched you concentrate on your monitor, staring through the glasses that you always wore when on any computer or when writing. The atmosphere had changed aboard the boat when Captain Bridger left, but surely that wasn’t enough to make you grow cold.

When it was time for shift change, you walked off the bridge with Lucas. Both of you strolled slowly, side by side. “Hey, ummm,” Lucas began, stopping in the corridor. “Can we talk?”

“What about?” you asked.

Lucas sighed at the cold, abrupt edge to your tone. “Us….”

“What do you mean us?”

“No…no. It sounded weird, I know. I’m sorry,” Lucas said, silently grilling himself for sounding stupid. “Things just seem weird. We don’t spend time together like we used to, and I guess I…”

“We’ll talk later. In private,” you told him. Officers were speeding past you, starting and ending the shift rotation. It was too open for such a chat. There was a lot that needed to be said. “I’ll come to your quarters about seven. How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Lucas replied with a smile.

As you parted ways, you felt breath catch in your throat. Your hands shook and tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. You felt something for Lucas and you despised yourself, at just over ten years his senior. You were ashamed of it.

It wasn’t until you ventured from your quarters and down the corridors to Lucas’ shared quarters that you realised just how deep his feelings for you ran. You could distinctly hear his voice as you stopped outside the door, which was slightly ajar. The other person, you assumed, was Tony Piccolo.

“You need to tell her, Lucas,” the second voice came. Sure enough, it was Tony.

You waited outside the door, listening.

“I can’t stop thinking about her, Tony.”

“You’ve said that before with girls.”

“This is different. I barely knew Juliana and Sandra. I’ve spent months with her, and when I am with her, it’s like she’s my age. And she cares. I mean truly cares. Probably because she’s just as alone as I am. But lately she’s grown cold towards me. She won’t speak to me sometimes for almost an entire day. There’s no laughing anymore.”

“It’s pretty hard to laugh around here with Hudson in charge,” Tony replied.

You straightened your back and swallowed hard, bracing yourself and tapped on the door.

A few seconds later and Tony appeared. “I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t mind me,” he said, grinning at you. “Go easy on him.” Tony winked at you. All you could do was grimace and then descend the steps down into the main sleeping area which Lucas and Tony shared.

Lucas looked at you, dressed in jeans, Converse and blouse. How could you be the age you were? You looked twenty-two at most. Everything about you enthralled him; your small and discreet tattoos scattered about your body, your quirky sense of humour, the way you cared for everyone and put them before yourself, the odd looking ornaments you kept on your desk and your taste in rock music. Jim Brody had teased many times how your attitude would be suited with Tony Piccolo. But you needed people who were steady and mature.

Things were silent for a short while as you both stood a couple of feet apart, your hands shoved in pockets. Then you broke the silence and looked at Lucas. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. It’s just…Maybe I’m being arrogant, I don’t know. But I sense that you like me…”

“And does that bother you?” Lucas asked, his hands growing more and more sweaty.

“I’m a lot older than you, Lucas,” you reminded him. “You’ve only just become an adult, and I know you forget my age when we spend time together. I’m still young in my appearance and ways. Maybe I haven’t grown up myself yet.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Lucas said softly. “Why does age have to be an issue? We’re good together; I know that you know that.”

His words made something pour in your stomach and you closed your eyes, trying to shake the feelings away. “Lucas, no. Stop it, please,” you whispered.

“You have feelings for me, too. I know you do. I can see it,” he said, approaching you.

You felt his arm wind around your waist, edging you closer towards him.

“Stop it!” you cried out, pushing him away. “No means no!”

You left his quarters only moments later, leaving Lucas behind to slam his hands down onto his desk. Leaving seaQuest was the only way this would end. Lucas would move on and meet a girl his own age. And you would transfer to another boat, hopefully to ace your officer exams and get promoted to Lieutenant Commander.

That evening was long as you drowned in your own thoughts. How could Lucas be what you needed? Would he be prepared to look towards marriage and children within the next two to five years? You would be rushing him, forcing him to put aside all the years of adventure and experience to build a family. Because that was what you wanted. If you met the right man, then you would gladly take time away from your career. And Lucas seemed to think that man was him.

Around nine, a knock came to your door. Your heart leapt and you gasped, expecting it to be Lucas. But it was Tony. You knew why he was here; it didn’t take a lot for anyone to put two and two together to see the reason for his visit.

You let Tony in and sat back down in your seat. “I know why you’ve come to see me, Tony. Lucas doesn’t see the shame I feel every time I look at him.”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing, too. I know Lucas isn’t always the easiest person to say no to. In that way, he’s still a kid.”

You sighed. “We’re both still kids in a lot of ways. I’m going to put in a request for transfer. It’s the only way to solve this.”

“But you can’t,” Tony exclaimed. “Everyone loves you, you know that. It wouldn’t be the same without you. You bring a bit of life to this place.”

Tony’s words brought a smile to your face. “Thanks. This place feels more like a family than I’ve ever had anywhere else outside of my actual family.”

“Look, if you two really do like each other then nothing should stop you. Some people might think the age gap is weird, but who cares? You’re both single adults.”

You sighed again and reached for your mug of coffee which had started growing cold. “I want to think about marriage and settling down. Does Lucas want that? It’s something that needs to be thought about. I can’t be responsible for slowing him down. He’s still young.”

“And so are you. Man, you’re talkin’ as though you’re fifty. Come on!” Tony said.

You barely slept that night, constantly tossing and turning, thinking of Lucas, whom you doubted was asleep either. The air was warm and stale, and your heart raced, reminding you of the anxiety which you kept hidden. Being a Lieutenant in the Navy meant that you had been aboard vessels under attack, had nearly drowned and been shot in the leg. But it was your indecision and shame that caused you to panic uncontrollably.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you flung your legs out from the covers. You flicked on the table lamp and staggered sleepily to your chair. Writing always calmed you. In a world of discipline, uncertainty and instability, you felt so alone. Friendships were strong between you and the main crew, but you had become the glue holding them together. You listened often to Lonnie deny her budding feelings for Jonathan Ford; Tony Piccolo opened his heart to you about his unconventional family; Lucas relied on you for stability and companionship. Now was the time that you needed someone.

After finishing your journal entry, you ventured out into the corridors, finding the gentle hum of seaQuest to be soothing. In the mess hall, you poured yourself a mug of coffee from the vending machine and took a seat in the back corner of the room.

“I thought I was the only one who had insomnia,” a voice came.

“What? Oh, sorry,” you apologised, raising your head out of your hands to see Jim Brody.

“You okay?” Brody asked, approaching you. He was dressed in his uniform, obviously in the middle of night shift.

“I’ll survive,” you chuckled wryly.

“You don’t sound very convincing, you know?”

There was a sincerity in Brody’s eyes that you had always been drawn to. He never minced his words or failed in keeping his promises.

You sighed deeply and looked at your untouched coffee. “How do you handle it when you like someone but have your reservations?”

“What kind of reservations?”

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell another soul? I’m so ashamed.”

Brody began to look puzzled and slightly nervous. “Umm, okay.”

“Lucas admitted that he has feelings for me, and I know I feel something for him. But the age gap terrifies me, Jim. And you know how sulky he can be when you say no to him.”

Brody smiled and then sighed. “I know you two have always been close, but maybe if you’re feeling uncomfortable, it’s something you need to deal with yourself. You’re both adults and it’s down to you both. Don’t try and seek everyone else’s approval.”

“That’s what makes me ashamed: everyone else’s judgement.”

The shame and embarrassment of your admission made you look away and run your shaking hands through your short hair. It made you think back to the day you had your long locks cut off, which was the day before your first tour on seaQuest. It was an almost boyish cut, but there was no mistaking your femininity.”

“It’ll work out, I’m sure. Thanks for listening, Jim,” you said, forcing a smile.

You remained in the mess hall for a short while longer, sipping your coffee. The tall, broad figure of Dagwood drifted past the door as he cleaned. He never noticed you, but you watched him for a couple of seconds; his attention to his duty was unbroken and unwavering.

Sleep finally took you away a couple of hours later. In the dark of your quarters, you began counting. Gradually your heart rate slowed.

Suddenly your alarm was blaring! Pain rested behind your eyes and in your temples. No doubt it would remain with you for the rest of the day.

After a shower, you got dressed into your uniform and headed for the mess hall for breakfast. The bright overhead lights assaulted your eyes, making you wince.

Lucas, Tony and Lonnie were all sat together to the left hand side of the room. You suddenly felt sick, insanely sick. Tony looked at you, his eyes widening. Thankfully Lucas had his back to you. It was impossible for you to avoid him now; once you were up for duty, you couldn’t go back to quarters until the next shift rotation. On an almost mile-long submarine, and you couldn’t hide.

You grabbed fruit and a mug of herbal tea. With a huge sigh, you approached the table where your friends were, a spare seat having been left between Tony and Lucas.

Lucas swallowed hard and shifted in his seat as your perfume wafted up his nose, mixed with the smell of your sweet-scented hand cream.

“Morning,” you said softly. Your eyes met Lucas’ and you could see the sadness swimming in them.

“You look awful,” Lonnie said. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” you said, forcing another smile. “And it’s caught up with me this morning.”

By now and you could feel your pulse racing, thumping in your head and chest. Your hands were shaking, and you knew the day wouldn’t get any easier. Tony kept watching you as the atmosphere remained tense. Lonnie left a few minutes later, uncomfortable by the silence.

Lucas was looking down most of the time and once Tony had also left, he spoke, but didn’t look at you. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, swallowing hard.

Lucas heard the quiver in your voice and finally looked at you. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Almost on instinct, you placed your hand on his. “We’ll be okay. Whatever happens, we’ll be okay. Shore leave in two days. We can talk more then.”

That morning seemed to ease some of the tension between Lucas and you. On the bridge, you began to ease back into your laughter. You temporarily forgot your fatigue and the events of the evening previous. Until Lucas held your gaze for a few seconds longer than usual. Normally you looked away, trying to avert his attention elsewhere, but this time you maintained eye contact and smiled.

Tony smirked to himself, recognising that look anywhere.

The next two days passed without incident. You felt more at ease now and found yourself making jokes out of mundane things. As it always had, it entertained Tony greatly. The two of you played off each other in the mess hall. A lot of your jokes were at Captain Hudson’s expense. To most people, you outwardly seemed more suited to Tony Piccolo, but those closest to you knew better. The bond you shared with Lucas was unlike any other relationship on the boat. Even though you paled into insignificance when it came to Lucas’ IQ, you could both normally tell what the other was thinking with just one smile.

On the evening before shore leave officially started, Lucas remained in his quarters after shift rotation. There was still a deep pain when he saw you. When you turned your head and smiled, your eyes shining bright, he knew that he would love no other smile. Your attention to detail was unparalleled; that was obvious from the drawings of yours which littered your bedside wall. Your mind didn’t store facts, theories and calculations like Lucas’; it was curious, deep, questioning. You observed deeply. Your genius was in colours, shape, emotion, behaviour. Not cold fact like Lucas.

The Navy had taught you to be disciplined, orderly. No more piles of clothes left at the end of your bed or un-pressed clothing that hoped no one would notice. Why had you even enlisted? Was it your wanderlust? Perhaps. Or maybe it was a way to get away from the ordinary world and embrace your difference.

A sudden knock came to your door, a metallic tap.

“Come in,” you called, placing your copy of The Lord of the Ringsback on your shelf.

Lucas entered, not quite sure why he was even visiting.

“Sorry. I was tidying. You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied.

“You think so?”

Lucas sat down on the edge of your bed and looked up at you as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Please don’t do that. You remind me of my mom,” he chuckled.

Somehow, that comment didn’t amuse you quite as much as it did Lucas. It hit a rather raw nerve that you had hoped you had figured out how to manage.

Lucas got up from his spot and stood before you, being slightly taller. “What?” he asked. You turned your head, shame surging through you again. But just then, the gentlest touch came to your cheek. Lucas’ large blue eyes were full of concern and adoration for you. His hand cupped your face and seconds later, you felt his lips against yours. Soft, unsure, but above all, kind. The kiss of a young man, some ten years your junior, was enough to remind you that there was still kindness in the world, especially amongst the male of the species.

Realisation hit you hard in the stomach and you turned from the kiss. You heard Lucas sigh and stepped back. “Have you thought about this properly? We’re at different stages in our lives. You’re just starting out in your adult years to find out what you’d like…”

Lucas cut you off. “You talk as though I have no idea what I want.”

You looked at him sadly, seeing the frustration in his face. “What experience have you had? Do you know if you want to get married? Have children? These are probably things you haven’t even considered yet. I’ve been forced to push it aside because I’m too different.”

Lucas remained quiet, not quite sure what to say.

“Please think on this more,” you said.

“I have,” he said in desperation, his hands cupping your face again. “I want to be with you, and whatever you want, you can have it.” His voice became a whisper and you kissed again.

You woke a few hours later at just after one in the morning. There was a solid warmth against your back and an arm draped over you. The two of you had fallen asleep after an evening of chatter and cuddles under the blanket.

In all the time that you had known Lucas, which was two years, you had never seen him smile so much as he had done that evening. True, since enlisting in the Navy, Lucas had had to grow up somewhat and that change in him had been amazing, going from a boy to a man. A seriousness had settled in him, overriding the boyishness.

You slid out of bed and positioned the blanket back over Lucas. He rolled over and mumbled in his sleep. Something about this still felt wrong. It made you concerned that everyone would see it as predatory. Everything that felt wrong was pushing you to begin writing up that transfer request. Crew from the infamous seaQuest were always welcomed aboard other UEO vessels. The sub still remained the pinnacle of the fleet, highly sought after by new officers for their first tour. A reserve list with thousands of names on had been written up, and if you left, then you’d open a door to someone more deserving of their placement. Allowing Lucas to get close to you had been an abuse of your authority.

“You’re making a habit of this, ain’t you?” Brody laughed, finding you in the mess hall again at an ungodly hour for the second time that week.

“Maybe I am,” you chuckled. “My sleep routine is shot to shit.”

“Did you get things sorted with Lucas?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned. “It still feels wrong. I’m seriously considering putting in a transfer. But I know that Hudson will only take a valid reason before signing off my request.”

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Brody leaned closer to you across the table.

“I can’t stay, Jim. Things are getting too deep between me and Lucas, and I know that he’s always going to expect something that I can’t give him.”

“I can’t force you to go against what you think is right, but you know we’d all miss you. None of us would want to see you go.”

“I know that, and I thank you so much. You’ve all supported me and I absolutely love working on this boat.”

“Yeah, it is a great place.”

Suddenly, you stopped rigid, eyes wide as Lucas wondered into the room. Brody turned after seeing your expression, and then wished you both a goodnight.

“You okay?” Lucas asked, replacing Brody in the seat opposite you.

“Got a lot on my mind,” you told him.

Lucas reached out and curled his hand around yours. “What’s up? Talk to me.”

Tears filled your eyes and fell down your cheeks. “I can’t do this…I’m sorry…”

“What have I done?” he whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” you sobbed. Your gripped his hand tighter until he came and sat at your side. “You need someone your own age. I’m taking advantage of you with my authority and rank.”

“How are you taking advantage of me?”

“I’m ten years older than you and I’m a Lieutenant.”

“And why should that matter?”

“I…” words were lost.

“We’re both legal age and consenting adults. So does it really matter?” You remained quiet. Then you heard the gentle whisper of your name. “Does it really matter?” he asked again.

“I was considering putting in a transfer,” you said, the words tumbling from your mouth like an avalanche.

“No….no,” Lucas begged, drawing his hand up your face. “Don’t leave me.”

You couldn’t help but kiss his hand and lean into his touch.

“Captain Bridger left. I don’t know if I could handle you leaving, too.” Lucas’ eyes were wide and full to the brim of tears. Everyone in Lucas’ life had left him or cared little, never putting him as their priority.

And you knew then that no matter the outcome of your relationship status, you couldn’t leave. Lucas needed an open ear, heart and mind to express himself to. He’d found that in you.

As everyone prepared their belongings in order to enjoy three days of shore leave, you sat in your quarters with music playing away on your com-link. There was a positive buzz outside your door and foot traffic was loud. It was always the same whenever shore leave was approaching.

A knock came to your door.

Tony appeared. “Mornin’!” he chirped happily. “All ready to go?”

“Yes, I think so,” you replied.

“Lucas told me about your conversation over the transfer. I’m glad you told him you’d thought about it. Are you still considering it?”

You sighed and looked towards Tony. “No, I’ve decided not to leave. Whatever happens, I know my place is here. Lucas has had enough people walk out on him. He needs at least one person to stay.”

“Make sure you’re stayin’ for the right reasons.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay,” you replied with a smile.

“I do. We all do. But you’ve got to want to stay for yourself.”

“Everyone here feels like the friends I never had and the family I lost touch with. Of course I don’t want to leave.”

As everyone began gathering in the corridors to head to the docking bays, you stood between Lucas and Brody, dressed in your shore uniform. As usual, Tony was telling jokes to keep everyone amused.

“Do you ever pause for breath?” you asked, laughing.

“Only when I’m sleepin’, and even then I still talk,” Tony countered.

“He’s right there,” Lucas mumbled.

Shore leave began with all of you checking into a local hotel in downtown just from the seaQuest berth. As usual, the UEO paid for all expenses incurred on shore leave.

Lucas looked on a little suspiciously when you announced that you were next door to Brody and Lonnie, but he was on the floor below. He merely smiled at you, swept a glance to Brody and Lonnie, then disappeared to his own room.

In your room, you placed your bag down on the bed and began inspecting the cleanliness of the place.

You made sure you had a bath before doing anything else. The heat relaxed you and the sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wrapped around you. For a short while and you forgot all the trials in life, all the things that kept you up at night and made you over think. Suddenly, your phone began to chime. With a groan of irritation, you lifted yourself out of the tub, wound a thick towel around yourself and picked up the ringing nuisance from your bed.

“Are you alright? You took a while to answer,” Lucas’ questioning voice came.

“I’m fine. I was taking a bath.”

“Oh, okay. Do you mind if I come and see you?”

“Give me ten minutes to get dressed. I’m in room 712.”

“Okay. Bye.”

He seemed put out somehow. You sensed disappointment in his voice. Did he think you were avoiding him purely because you took time to answer his call? There was definitely a lot that needed to be ironed out between you both.

Lucas came to your room shortly afterwards, holding two paper cups of coffee, probably from the vending machine on his floor.

You thanked him for the coffee and then sat opposite him on your bed. You pulled your leg under yourself and watched him lower his head in that way he always did when he was unsure. “If this is how things are going to be between us now, then I wish they would just go back to how they were,” he said. His voice as pained by the realisation of all the tension he’d placed on your once deep friendship. For a young man who was so intelligent, far beyond that of most people, he held a lot of insecurity and uncertainty. He wore his heart on his sleeve and had never been able to hide his true emotions. There was an honesty and innocence that drew you in. A purity of heart. But also a sadness. If everyone else had abandoned him, how could you be so selfish and do the same thing?

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

Lucas was staring blankly into his coffee. “This. All of it.” He then looked up at you. “The last few days have been hell. I haven’t known what to say or do. And even if you don’t feel anything for me, can we just go back to the way things were?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve driven a gap between us out of my own fear. Maybe I felt that backing away would help. Being around each other constantly only makes the feelings deepen. I’ve missed you and I do have feelings for you. A lot of them. I was scared of everyone judging me because I’m older and abusing my authority. I have to be careful, Lucas. Especially now that Captain Bridger is gone. He didn’t push Naval code like Hudson does.”

“I know that,” Lucas said, edging in a little closer towards you. That beautiful scent. It made his deeper instinct ride; butterflies were flapping with ferocity in his gut. “You worry too much about what other people think of you.”

“We’re not civilians, Lucas,” you reminded him.

“What would you have done with your life if you never enlisted?”

You took a sip of your coffee and smiled. “As a kid, I always wanted to be a vet, so I’d have worked with animals more than likely.”

“What made you enlist? You’ve never had that typical Navy way about you.”

“I finished university with a useless degree in English and I saw advertisements at a job fayre. I wanted something new and interesting. I almost failed my initial medical though.”

“Why?”

“I was taking medication for panic attacks. I stopped taking it a week before my examination and never declared it. Who wants a Naval officer who’s always anxious?”

“I don’t believe that at all. You’re probably the most chilled of anyone when we have an emergency.”

You chuckled. “I’ve learned to control it. And I find when I’m leading others, I’m more at ease. I can be calm for other people but not myself.”

That evening, a large group of you decided to head for a sit down meal at a local restaurant. Piano music was playing overhead and the lighting was dimmed, adding to a relaxing atmosphere. The waiter, a hook-nosed Italian man in overly tightly trousers, guided you over to a large, round table in the back corner.

You nudged Brody and pointed to the waiter. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t pop a nut.”

Lonnie and Tony immediately smiled, enjoying the fact that your usual self was coming back to the surface.

The whole meal was laid back, fun and light-hearted. You couldn’t help but notice the subtle glances that were exchanged between Lonnie and Jonathan Ford. Tim O’Neill seemed a little irritated by it, rolling his eyes a couple of times. When you saw Tim be so quiet, it reminded you of Miguel Ortiz, whom you had had a slight crush on when you first came aboard seaQuest. He and Tim had been good friends, and since Miguel’s passing in combat, Tim seemed a little lost at times.

By the time that the meal was over, most of the group had disappeared into the bar. There was only you, Lonnie and Jonathan Ford left at the table, which made you feel like a spare part. You excused yourself and walked out the front door of the restaurant. Chatter and laughter filled the air outside on the veranda. Dozens of people were drinking, eating and enjoying the night time air.

You began to walk, crossing the street and heading onto the empty beach. The chill in the air, the bright, full moon and the sound of crashing waves soothed you. In a hectic world where you were constantly fighting for control, you were now centred. Everything was simple. No worry. No orders. Just the stars, sand and sea.

Lucas looked for you, only to spot you standing on the beach. He could tell you from across the street. Proud shoulders, hands in pockets, bright coloured blouse, bandana in hair. That could only be you.

“You okay?” he asked.

You turned and smiled, then stepped back towards him. You curled your arm through his and put your head on his shoulder. The two of you remained quiet for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company. To Lucas’ surprise, you took his hand and held it tight.

Tony and Brody looked on from the front of the restaurant.

“If the age gap is their only concern then they’ve got more going for them than most couples,” Brody said.

“He’s definitely lucky to have her.”

By the time you made it back to the bar in the restaurant, you and Lucas were hand in hand. Tony grinned at you both and then cheered, drawing attention from the rest of the crew who were all sat in a booth together.

Laughter ensued almost immediately as all the men, apart from Lucas, began competing in a drinking game.

“One, two, three,” Tony counted, banging his free hand on the table top. All of the participants of the game tossed shots down their throats, then proceeded to continue on with a further two, downing them as quickly as possibly without vomiting. Tim O’Neill gagged, almost propelling his meal from his gut. Jim Brody fell into a coughing fit. Jonathan Ford blinked hard, pushing vodka-induced tears away. Tony merely laughed, playing a drum beat on the table.

You could sense Lucas’ eyes on you as you sat beside each other. His arm was stretched across the back of the seat behind you. His nerves were finally beginning to settle a little, reminding himself again and again that it was still you. You were the same person he had known now for almost two years and had had a bad crush on the whole time. There were so many times that he had imagined how you would feel under his fingertips, the way your lips would taste against his, the sound of your hitched breath as you kissed with passion. And you did not disappoint. All of his fantasies had fallen short of the beauty of reality.

Around midnight and the men of the group were considerably less sober than when they’d arrived for dinner just over four hours earlier. Tony was now daring Brody to go swimming in the sea naked, which the Lieutenant was actually considering to do. Ford and O’Neill were arm wrestling, leaving you to chat with Lucas and Lonnie. A bottle of expensive red wine was on the table. Lonnie sipped from her glass now and again, encouraging you to have a drink, but you never drank alcohol as it only made your anxiety worse.

“I’m going to retire to bed, I think,” you announced.

“I’ll walk you back,” Lucas proposed.

Together, you and Lucas began your short walk back to the hotel. You strolled along comfortably hand in hand. People walked past you, glancing at you for only a brief second before continuing on. No one stared like you thought they would. They were all unawares of the age gap between you both that you always thought was noticeable.

You woke the next morning to bright sunlight shining through the open curtains. Lucas was lying with his back to you. You slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Lucas heard the toilet flush and looked up at the ceiling, smiling. Would you regret the night previously? He hoped so much that you wouldn’t.

“Good morning,” you said with a smile, exiting the bathroom in your pyjamas.

“Morning,” Lucas replied, groggy with sleep and happiness.

You slipped back into bed and rolled over to him, kissing his lips. He seemed to gain more confidence the more that you kissed. The tension was seeping out of your actions the more that you acted on your feelings. Fear was losing its grip on you.

Both of you remained in bed for a short while, until you announced that you were getting dressed to head downstairs for breakfast.

“I’m tired,” Lucas groaned.

“Get up, Ensign. That’s an order,” you chuckled.

“Now who’s abusing their authority, Lieutenant?”

“Well if you’re expecting any kind of repeat of last night then you’re going to have to be well-behaved now, aren’t you?”

“You never seemed the type to subject me to blackmail.”

“I’m going to head down,” you said, putting the conversation back on a serious note. “Do you want me to bring you anything back up?”

Lucas just smiled. “I’ll come down with you.”

When you got downstairs, Lonnie and Commander Ford were already sat at a table for two. You and Lucas made yourself comfortable just across from them.

“How’s the head, Commander?” you chuckled.

“Strangely it’s okay. For now. No quick and sudden movements and I should be fine,” he replied with a smile.

You poured yourself a mug of English tea and began to eat your breakfast which had been served.

Tim O’Neill came half staggering into the large dining area and plopped down on a seat next to Lucas. “Remind me to never drink again,” he groaned.

Lucas looked up at you ever now and again, his blue eyes twinkling with something you hadn’t seen before. Contentment maybe? Or perhaps happiness? Whatever it was, you knew he needed both, and you hoped that you had given that to him.

The rest of that day was fairly eventful, with a visit to the local art museum with Lucas, Lonnie and Commander Ford.

Jonathan Ford couldn’t deny that he was shocked by the sudden and dramatic change in yours and Lucas’ relationship dynamic. His Navy instinct told him that something needed to be said, a warning to you both of potential consequences. But the kind side of him won out. Why try and damage that haze of happiness that was suspended around you both? Once Captain Hudson returned to the seaQuest, a relationship was something that you and Lucas would have to either end or keep secret. No way would Hudson advocate romance on his boat.

At the beach during the afternoon, Tony sat beside Lucas whilst you remained with Lonnie, enjoying an ice cream cone.

“So? What happened last night? Brody told me that you stayed in her room,” Tony enquired.

“Yeah, I stayed with her. What happened is none of your business,” Lucas replied.

“Lucas, come on! You gotta tell me. I didn’t arm you with rubber for nothin’!”

Lucas merely smirked. “Lets just say that it was put to good use.”

“Way to go, my boy!” Tony exclaimed.

“Tony, shut up. She’s only over there,” Lucas growled.

“So, I need details. How was it? Was she good?”

“None of your business,” Lucas hissed and moved away. He approached you and Lonnie, and as he looked at you, he knew there was only one word that could have described the night previously: incredible. No way was he about to disrespect you and discuss your private life with others.

“Can I borrow you for a few minutes?” he asked you.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, and got up from the warm sand. “Everything okay?”

You both moved away from the rest of the group. “Yeah. I just wanted to be alone with you for a while.”

The two of you took a slow walk down to the water’s edge, the tide returning from its long descent out towards the horizon. Hand in hand, you were silent for a few minutes. The sun’s rays were warm against your back, but a gentle breeze refreshed the air, biting through the humidity. You felt that inner calm come flooding to the surface again. Lucas’ arm wound around your waist and you prayed in silence that this was the right thing for both of you.

#seaquest #seaquest dsv #seaquest 2032 #Lucas wolenczak #captain Oliver hudson #Jonathan brandis #Michael ironside #Lucas wolenczak x you #Lucas wolenczak x reader #Lucas wolenczak x fem!reader #reader insert #lieutenant lonnie henderson #commander Jonathan ford #lieutenant James brody #dagwood #Tony piccolo #lieutenant Tim o'neill

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lady-plantagenet · 3 years

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Unsolicited Book Reviews (n5): Wife to theKingmaker

Rating:

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Even before I had an account I had a tendency to go to tumblr to see people’s opinions before buying a histfic novel. Certain books are either severely underrepresented where I feel like there needs to be something on them, whereas others that are talked about enough - something more can still be said. So for my quarantine fun, I had decided to start a series where I review every medieval historical fiction novel I read. Hopefully, it will either start interesting discussions or at least be some help for those browsing its tag when considering purchasing it.

TL;DR: Ok swear to god this book was written by two different people. The ending was actually heart-wrenching, but so much had annoyed me throughout that I swore to myself to never again touch this genre for my own health. Twas an odd tale, and tbh the fact that it was odd probably elevated it from the 2 stars (or hell maybe even 1 if it was going to get any more richardian) to 3. Honestly, quite glad I read it in the end. Not the most historically informative, but some of the character arcs were actually quite neat (however extremely farfetched). Spoiler Warning: I’m going to divulge a lot on here because I know no one who follows me is going to read this book.

Plot: Ok, the plot... It was only after I placed my order that I realised this is the Sandra Heath Wilson of ‘Cicely’s King’ fame. I cringed and didn’t know what to do. For all you innocents out there... her Cicely series is a saga wherein Cecily of York pretty much bangs everyone who is male and from the house of york (minus her father and uncle George) and Even Henry VII(!!). She then has this kid by Richard III, calls him Leo and the rest is history(this is what I gleaned from goodreads). Nevertheless it had already shipped and honestly I had it coming; the synopsis does say she has an affair with her brother-in-law John Marquis of Montagu. Whatever, I couldn’t resist buying the only novel about Anne Beauchamp, and since it was published in the 70s/80s I knew it would at least be flamboyant and go all out. It delivered enough for it to have been worth reading.

So the novel follows Anne Beauchamp!(Nan) from when she is a 13 year old girl to 1478 when she finally leaves Beaulieu to go live at Middleham with her (as you guessed it- favourite) daughter Anne and her oh so belovéd son-in-law Richard Duke of Gloucester - You see? Since now finally the Great Other (Mr George) is finally vanquished England has its peace. Of course this is not true, Nan historically left the abbey in 1473 for Middleham and while I wanted a possible explanation from the author (who I would assume is better researched than I) for whether she went to Middleham out of her own volition or simply because the King trusted Gloucester better than Clarence... alas I got none. It was all pinned on the fact that the evil George (who as per usual alternates between omnipotent mastermind to absolute drunken himbo at the turn of a page) would not have her free for as long as she lived (for whatever reason). I really think the real historical explanation was because Edward trusted Gloucester - because after all Warwick Castle was Nan’s patrimony not Middleham. I doubt Nan had a choice in the matter but, the point is, Isabel was alive in 1473 and since there’s zero historical record or suggestion that Nan and Anne had ever seen her again, it would have been nice to have had a depiction of the conflicted feelings or a final meeting written for the three women. I’ll let it slide I guess, after all, one needs to cut some slack when it comes to books written pre-internet age by non-historians. And unlike Sunne in Splendour, this book does not purport to be completely accurate or a representation of the truth.

Christ some sub-plots were truly unexpected. One that made me groan at first was the whole arc between Nan and her niece Eleanor Butler. In this book she’s her ward (not historically true) and little Eleanor is all sweet and innocent and virtuous and, hell, at one point we get more Nan-Eleanor interaction than even between Nan - her own daughters (particularly Isabel who would have been the right age and a better substitute for Eleanor in their dialogue, but alas, who cares about Isabel right?). Eleanor even is the one to accidentally discover that Margaret of Anjou slept with Edmund Beaufort, siring Edward of Lancaster.

Ok. You’re probably thinking, god how trite eugh the Richardians are at it again, right? Yeah ok the Richardians are at it again, but it turns into something really neat at the end. Essentially, as I said, Nan has an affair with John Neville Marquis of Montagu (long story that I will expand on in characterisation) and she and him come upon Edward and Eleanor (overhearing them nothing more). So Edward and Nan then have this mutually assured destruction between them, because Edward divulges that he saw Nan and John years later when Nan confronts him (by this time he is married to Elizabeth Woodville) that she knows about the pre-contract with the intention of telling him off. He tells her that if she dares tell Warwick about the pre-contract he will tell Warwick about John, so she then agrees (also because she promised her niece that she would keep it quiet for the safety of her son by Edward). Years later when they meet again, Edward realised how much is at stake for Nan (especially since it turned out she loved Warwick all along and Edward figured that out), and so, during the period of John’s back-and-forth loyalties (we know he was disgruntled by the loss of the Northumberland Earldom)... Edward returns and tells Nan that if Montagu abandons him he will out her to Richard and cause a massive division between the brothers (militaristically speaking as well) and he knows he can do that because he figures out Nan will not out him because she blubbs about her promise to her niece. This madness then becomes bittersweet when (as history would have it) Montagu does end up fighting for Warwick, nevertheless, Nan is releaved during the whole time because there’s nothing in Warwick’s letters that give any indication that Edward ended up exposing her. Warwick dies in the battlefield, Nan is deeply aggrieved but happy he never found out at least. But then... years later when Edward comes to Beaulieu (1478 as this story would have it) to inform Nan that she may depart for Middleham, he tells her that he in fact did expose her to Warwick... but that Warwick didn’t believe him and laughed in his face because he thought there was no way she could be unfaithful because he knew she loved him. This sounds silly but it got to me a bit when I read it. Of course, we also have Edward saying he regretted his handling of the pre-contract affair because apparently Elizabeth Woodville had since lost interest in him and he’s hurt by how she shows no reaction to him having mistresses and he’s kinda given up, whereas Eleanor would have been more of a lapdog. This was essentially the centrepiece of the plot.

Look, I don’t really read these types of novels as a habit so I don’t know if bizarre plot lines like this are commonplace. Not going to lie though, it threw me and it was pleasantly enjoyable. This is basically what is to be said about the plot... the rest goes into characterisation. Nevertheless, this novel too often fell into the exposition trap (like telling us what is happening politically instead of showing us). While I appreciated the refresher of what happened 1445-1461 and I understand that the target audience of this book aren’t Wars of the Roses experts, I’ve seen it done more smoothly in many other more literary novels (eg Hawley Jarman’s or Lytton-Bulwer’s Last of the Barons). I’ve often said Sunne in Splendour was terribly dry and exposition-heavy, but at least it had historical detail so I could sometimes switch off and treat it as a non-fiction account for battles and character locations. But with this one I a) don’t have faith that the author paid attention to detail; see what I said earlier about the years 1473-1478, so I won’t take this as information and b) know that if she had done this with the years I know more about: 1461-1478, I would have gotten annoyed because of my familiarity with those decades.

Characterisation: Well we have lovelorn saintly Dickon here - always a pet peeve of mine. Look, I don’t have strong opinions about the man but it just innures me how whenever Richardianism rears it’s ugly head the plot suffers massively and it’s always favourite figures of mine that suffer the most. George Duke of Clarence... oh god, what can I say? Wife-beater, alcoholic, is disgusted by his wife when she is ill (you know, unlike the historical Clarence who had resided in the Abbot’s home near the infirmiary for the last months of his wife’s lying-in and after to be close to her and thereafter stuck with her until she passed away and two months after that as well), is stupid yet somehow still devious, is the indirect cause of her death... the list goes on. Welp, at least this Clarence unlike the Sunne in Splendour one has an elegant bearing, sense of fashion and is a great dancer. The Sunne one had NOTHING. It’s also odd that they make his attitude towards Isabel undergo a complete 180 as soon as he realises this marriage will no longer make him king. This makes no sense as the book has them want to marry for love, like YEARS before 1469, so this sudden attitude change makes no sense. Authors really need to be reminded that crown or no crown that marriage would still have made him the greatest magnate in England. There was also a ridiculous handling on the circumstance of his death, and this was the most factually wrong part of the book. Between Ankarette being aged down by 4 decades and the whole shmaz with Stillington, I don’t know where to begin. I bet most of you can guess how it was handled. Isabel is as per usual constantly depressed and without a personality because, well, we can’t have her compared to our shining heroine Anne Neville. 3x more beautiful, 5x more vivacious and 20x more significant than her doormat of a sister who complains all day- that is when she isn’t crying. Gahhh. Of course Anne Neville also cries but it’s for her beloved Dickon who she pines for constantly. Look, I have no qualms with romanticising this pairing, but authors need to keep in mind that Anne was like 13 at most when she became estranged from Gloucester. You. Need. To. Stop. Writing. Her. Like. A. Woman. . I don’t care what anyone says, no matter the time period, you can’t make me visualise a 13 year old that could feel romantic love of that deep a devotion and maturity and not send me laughing across the floor. But want to write a strong childish infatuation coming from a place of deep friendship? Fine by me.

Ok, onto more positive characterisation points: I liked Nan, quite a lot actually (I mean blatant daughter favouritism aside). A lot of authors attempt to write the proud noblewoman and great lady character but few pull it off. This is always how I have seen the real Anne Beauchamp and I’m glad to see it here. For a novel so insensitive towards certain figures, the author wrote Nan with great empathy. She was very intelligent but not in that artificial girlboss way, she loved her daughter(s) but in that medieval mother type of way (so no baby brain here), she may have not gotten along splendidly with all the women around her but there was none of that demeaning cattiness. About that, I want to say I was shocked by what a turn her relationship with Margaret of Anjou took. Since the whole Somerset-bastard child plotline was a thing... Nan was initially revolted and lost all her respect for Lancaster, but when the two women find themselves joined by fate they gain this strange mutual respect for one another. They butt heads a bit initially but Margaret of Anjou rises above it for her son’s sake and eventually strikes up an agreement with Nan on when they are to set sail. Margaret first won’t listen to Nan because she thinks she’s a fool but when she eventually slips by to tell Nan that she had thought about her plan and that maybe she’s right, she doesn’t apologise and Nan doesn’t need her to and it’s this weird telepathic understanding from then on and I certainly did not expect to see something like this in this novel. After the landing in England and news of Warwick’s death reaches the party, Margaret doesn’t gloat but diplomatically relays the news and when Nan says she wants to take sanctuary because she lost all heart and can’t fight on, Edward of Lancaster gently says something like: well if you come with us, you’ll at least get your revenge and that’s at least something (paraphrase). You could just tell this was Edward’s way of offering condolences, the type of way a child like him raised through war and promises of vengeance only could, and it was oddly powerful. Shame it couldn’t have happened as Nan and Margaret and Isabel all travelled at seperate times. The whole theme around Nan was that she wasn’t very partisan but only followed her husband as a magnate and then as a man, which I believe and it was great to see Team Lancaster understood Warwick was a seperate entity from York, and for all intents and purposes they were all in this together. Cool-headedness is much needed in this genre I realise, god how low flies the bar ~

Now onto the characterisation most people are wondering about. What of Warwick? He was the saving grace of the novel. He has the common touch yet he is sophisticated, he is idealistic yet he is shrewd, he is impassioned yet collected, he is dramatic yet subtle, he is ... I can go on and on. What is all the affair plot point about then? It doesn’t diminish the bond between the two main characters; to tell you quite truthfully the relationship the author wrote was bizarre yet still really touching. They used to hate eachother because Nan thought herself above him (after all the Warwick earldom was far more valuable than the Salisbury one- remember it was briefly a dukedom at one point), but then she sees what he made of himself and becomes proud of him and falls in love with him. However, he starts to get carried away with his ambitions, gets all-consumed by the legend of Warwick that he had cultivated and essentially becomes impersonal without wanting to (and realising). Nan feels she has lost him to the people of England (which are apparently all hypnotised by his presence, which ok is a fact grounded in history) and because of her wounded pride she starts seeking comfort in his brother (although, it makes little sense how this would work as I would gather he would also be away, especially at the Scottish boarders). When he refuses to support Warwick over Edward later on, she loses all feelings for Montagu and thinks him a coward, and when Warwick apologises for being amiss she realises that this whole time it was him she loved all along and is racked with guilt. I found this exploration of what it is like being wed to a man of such public standing quite interesting, the idea of losing him not to another woman or such but to his cause (which in this book is a mixture of belief in the french alliance, the common weal and subconsciously his own wounded pride brought on by an extreme adherence to inflexible chivalric values on his part and Edward IV’s actions), I confess, is not something I saw portrayed in this particular manner anywhere else. I mean it’s not like I’ve been searching for this particular motif, but this was a refreshing depiction of a medieval couple and it was a poignantly written relationship which the author had me invested in. The relationship was heartfelt because it was very distinct, Nan and Warwick weren’t just some stand-ins for a cash-grab but some consideration was paid to the real historical figures. The John plotline, sure I would in principle protest against something like this but it seems to have had two plot purposes: To illustrate the strain caused by the aforementioned issue and to kick off the whole Edward-Eleanor Butler-Montagu-Nan arc, which bizarre and unbelievable as it was, kept me on my toes. I’ll let it slide. Also, Edward IV was portrayed as quite a chilling villain in this, beholden of this weird mix of indifference, charm and wickedness.

Prose: This is what made me briefly wonder if this book was written by two different people. It failed to engage me in the first half, the descriptions were trite (except for the natural scenery bits), there was very little variety in sentence structures which gave it the stilted heaviness that thus afflicted The Sunne in Splendour (and most modern literature). There was a lot of redundancies eg the type of stuff like ‘whispered quietly’ or ‘yelled loudly’ and the author’s misunderstanding of certain period fashions drew me out eg references to bodices (not a thing then), calling the henin veil a silk scarf etc. She didn’t pull a Penman: exposit emotions to us, making me feel like I walked into a therapy session, but it was often heavy-handed. It first felt very much like an uninspired debut novel. A bit try-hard and I was wondering if this was the way of the bodice ripper... I wouldn’t know, I never read one before (though I’m unsure if this qualifies as it’s really not graphic and the focus is really not on sex nor is there much of it).

However, out of nowhere, the prose suddenly changed a little before half of the way in; colours, emotions, thoughts and the like started to blend masterfully. The sentence structures started varying to convey the way Nan was feeling. It became very show don’t tell, and it drew me in emotionally a bit (I must confess). Of course, that’s also around the point the plot had sort of started redeeming itself. Nan’s grief at her husband’s passing was particularly well conveyed - how she became a husk of her former self... I could read fifty pages of that. Her realisation that it had been him all along was also well written, and you could feel all the urgency and regret she felt at all the time she had wasted disregarding him as the plot grew nearer to Barnet. The mutual longing was also subtle yet strong, and it really was down to the effective use of sentence structure and waylaying of inspired thematic details. The mingling of past memories with present day in her later years was also very well done and with flow, and the adjectives etc used were no longer becoming distracting as before. My favourite part by far was the very last scene when she rides ahead of her escort to Middleham and she imagines a horse riding beside her caparisoned with the Neville standard; you can really feel how this is the first time that she had felt joy in years and she lets the ghost follow her.

... In Conclusion, this novel gave me very mixed feelings. I don’t know if I would have enjoyed it as much as I did had it not been for the fact that I entered it with a massive pre-formed love for the figures. It’s a bit like my experience with ‘Death Be Pardoner to Me’ (review #2 on this tag), was the book actually good or do I just have an affinity for the protagonist (Clarence in that case)? As such, I don’t think I would reccomend it. Indeed I wrote this spoilerish review because I was sure no one would fly off to Amazon after seeing this post. I can’t say if it’s above commercial historical romance in standard as this is the first time I’ve ever read a book from this genre. I think I’ll take a loongg break from historical fiction (after I finish with Jarman) because the Clarence portrayal was a bit of a nail in the coffin for me and I don’t want to continue upsetting myself for no reason. As I have now truly lost hope in reading a balanced depiction of him and if the literature isn’t absolutely expemplary why bother? Nevertheless, Warwick’s portrayal was a saving grace and made it impossible for me to give it two stars - it wasn’t perfect but still the best I’ve read (minus Last of the Barons Ofc). This is also a bit sad when you think about it, Warwick is also due some fictional justice. Even scholarly if you ask me.

The experience was educational as I learned a valuable lesson in what to avoid and include in my writing, what pitfalls/clichés not to fall into etc. I think I can draw another valuable lesson from this: Dear Histfic authors, if you happen to not be historians, heavily-researched in this time period, objective or literarily talented etc don’t take yourself seriously by publishing some tome of a work but just go nuts like this novel. At least this way you’re not sharing misinformation, inducing people into error and your work still gets to be engaging as opposed to a repetition of the previous amateur historical novelist. Yeah. For all the Sunne in Splendour’s superior quality, I must say I prefer this one better.

Tagging @pythionice who I have recently discovered has also read this book! Welcome fellow fan of Warwick <3

#lady-plantagenet’s book reviews #I’m actually embarasses by how long this is #I got into quite the rambling mood oh gosh #I confuse myself #I hope I have amused some of you with this retelling at least it is outrageous lmao #wife to the kingmaker #sandra wilson #george of clarence #isabel neville #anne beauchamp #richard neville earl of warwick #warwick the kingmaker #richard neville #george plantagenet #anne neville #I’ll add read more function tommorow I’m too tired now #sandra heath wilson

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aloysiavirgata · 4 years

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Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Title: Love’s Austere and Lonely Offices

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG

Words: 5758

Timeline: Season 9

Summary: “ A letter is in fact the only device for combining solitude and good company.” -- Jacques Barzun

Author’s Notes: This fic was written in 2015. I couldn't bear the thought of their only communication in all that time being the "Dearest Dana" letters. (Which I added to just a teeny-weeny bit. Also added a little to Scully's Carterlogue to William.) Scully quotes from (what else?) Moby Dick and Mulder from The Divine Comedy. The title is from Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden.

Fe3O4 is magnetite and R2NCl is chloramine. I know my little ads are cryptic, so there's an addendum at the end for those interested parties. (See the end of the work for more notes.)

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, May 26 2001 In this world, shipmates, Sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers. R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5 **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, May 29 2001 These have not the hope to die. Developments? Nothing on my end. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 18 Jun 2001 Things are calm for now and hopefully communication can be somewhat regular for a time. I have a cash-under-the-table job at the moment and it covers basic needs. I know you wanted to come, but this is no life for a child. I will be home as soon as I am able. I know that goes without saying, but it makes me feel better to say it anyway. I have to go now. Tell me about William. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 18 Jun 2001 Mulder, It's so good to hear from you, you have no idea. Have you made any progress yet? There have been strange goings-on since you left, but I don't know what to make of any of it. I don't know whom to trust right now and just tell everyone I cannot contact you. I have not been able to make any sense of my last inquiry and am at a standstill. Please tell me everything you discover and let me know what I can do. Don't leave me in the dark on this, Mulder. You can't protect us that way. Let me be of use. Things are fine here. William eats well and sleeps less well, but I nap when I can. He's growing nicely and can focus his eyes for very long periods already and tracks objects at two feet away. His head control is excellent and he is already making deliberate reaches for objects rather than just grasping reflexively. He makes a gurgling sound if I run my finger up the midline of his foot. In addition to snapshots and videos, I have been keeping a journal of all of his changes for when you get back. My mother helps as much as she can but the truth is I prefer to be alone. She wants to talk, and doesn't understand that I just can't right now. I think she's afraid of the quiet and fills it up with noise. She talks to me but doesn't say anything. You know how to let me be silent, Mulder. I miss that. Frohike says William looks like me and Byers says he looks like you and Langly says he looks like Jack Ruby. Which is pretty much what you'd expect to hear from the three of them. Write when you can. Pictures attached. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Jun 2001 He still looks like Skinner to me, your feeble protestations of fidelity aside. He's got your eyes, Scully, and I wonder whose warped sense of humor he's going to claim. I'm not surprised he's ahead of the developmental curve. You read him Brian Greene while you were pregnant. That sets the bar rather high for a baby. Let your mother in. You're all she has nearby and she won't forgive herself for everything that's happened if you don't. Smile and nod, Scully. You do it better than anyone I know. Learn to let people love you. I haven't found much yet because I don't even know what the hell I'm looking for. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Jun 2001 We can only hope that his sense of humor is all his own. I think our particular brand of amusement wouldn't go over too well with the preschool set. Can you imagine Career Day, Mulder? We're going to have to be vague. Pictures of William attached, including one of him eating my hair. Have to run. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 28 Jun 2001 We'd be a hit at Career Day. You could tell them about your Invisible Guy Autopsy. And you know all the kids would want to hear about my time in low orbit. I'm leaving here soon, so it may be a while before I contact you again. Thank you for the pictures. I cannot believe how William has grown. He looks like his own man now instead of just a newborn. I know I once said I never saw you as a mother before, but I must not have been paying attention. You're beautiful, Scully. I miss you both constantly. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 29 Jun 2001 Mulder, I hope nothing serious has happened to necessitate this move and that you have made some headway. I am still having no luck. I'm going to start teaching at Quantico soon. I feel like I'm abandoning you in some way, Mulder. Abandoning our work. But I can't do field work like I used to - not with William - and Doggett and Reyes are doing a good job. I think you'd be impressed. William has been going to sleep at around 10 at night and sleeping until 6 or so. He is such an easy baby and already a hit with the ladies. I bring him to work sometimes and he's quite popular. Skinner gave him a stuffed McGruff the Crime Dog, but he prefers the doll you gave him and sleeps with it now. He's still rather small for the basketball, but that was never my sport anyway. I played field hockey, so free-throw instruction falls to you. Attached is a video of William laying on Skinner's desk. Stay safe. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 Jul 2001 He spit up on Skinner's desk? I could watch that all day. You're damned lucky it wasn't Kersh's or you'd be freezing your ass off in a Minnesota field office right now. And of course he's a hit with the ladies, Scully. Not everyone's as hard of a sell on the Mulder men as you. I made it to Wal-Mart and printed out some of those pictures you sent. Keep them coming. Don't ever feel like you're abandoning the work. The most important thing is that you and William stay safe and chasing mutants and government conspirators isn't really conducive to that. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you're okay. The job at Quantico will be good for you both. I'm doing a little air guitar of "Hot For Teacher" right now… **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Jul 2001 Mulder, I'm sorry it has taken me a bit to get back to you. My mother and I took William to the beach for a couple of days. I dipped his feet in the surf and I was reminded that seawater has a similar chemical makeup to both blood and amniotic fluid. We crawled from those primordial seas so many millions of years ago and carry some of it inside of us to this day. I know you get seasick, but I think we are hardwired to crave the ocean and I want to take William sailing when he's older. I think he has the genes for it. You may not be a sailor, Mulder, but you know the unquenchable lure of the unknown and thrill of riding out a storm. I had a good time with my mom and tried to do as you suggested. She asked after you and I am confident that whatever else she thinks of my life, she accepts that you're an integral part of it. I start teaching next month and I must confess to some anxiety. It has been so long since I stood in front of a lecture hall. I've gotten used to an audience of one for my technical soliloquies. And Van Halen, Mulder? Really? What happened to the King? **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 4 Aug 2001 Was it Chincoteague, Scully? It's right around Pony Penning Day, isn't it? When he's bigger we'll get a place out in the country and let him pick out a pony of his own. And hell, I'll take some Dramamine and we'll all go sailing too. Get out your list-making paper and get to work. I'll be back soon and we'll have the rest of our lives to get it done. P.S. - I always kind of got turned on by your technical soliloquies, so you may want to be careful around some of your more discriminating students. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 5 Aug 2001 Mulder, We went to Assateague, actually, but he did see the ponies and we found horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore. Despite 445 million years of existence, they've scarcely changed at all. It makes you think, I suppose. All the work we humans do to better ourselves and horseshoe crabs have attained perfection. And a pony?! That's a pretty heavy upgrade from your fish. I was thinking we could move more slowly from Cyprinidae to Perissodactyla. Perhaps a stop at Rodentia would be appropriate if you want to venture into mammalian territory. (Are you getting turned on by this?) William holds his head up and looks around without any trouble at all. He wants desperately to sit up and is so frustrated that he can't manage it yet. Any news? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, August 13, 2001 For where the instrument of intelligence is added to brute power and evil will, mankind is powerless in its own defense. Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ? **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, August 15, 2001 And some certain significance lurks in all things, else all things are little worth... I'll let you know if I hear anything. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Aug 2001 Let me know if we can move lunch on Wednesday to 12:30. I printed out pictures from our trip and made you some copies. I will bring William's Celeste Sun toy with me at lunch if that's okay with you. Charlie, Larissa and the kids are coming in for Christmas this year. Talk to you soon. Mom **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 21 Aug 2001 Mom, That would be fine. Thank you for printing the pictures for me, and William will be fine without Celeste until Wednesday. **** Letter received on September 8, 2001 William Mulder 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833 8-14-01 Dear William, I can only hope this finds its way to you but even if it doesn't, it's something I had to get on paper. Walking away from you and your mother is the single most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. I did it for reasons that I tell myself are right and noble, so why do I feel like I've let you both down? All I want is for you to be safe and I tell myself that leaving and searching for answers is the best way to do that. But the truth is, William, that your old man isn't making much headway here. Your mother sends me pictures and videos of you and sometimes at night I can close my eyes and recall your new-earthling smell. But it's not the same. I know your mother and I know that every night she shows you my picture and tells you I'll be home soon. I don't want to make a liar of her and I promise you both I'm doing the best I can. Every day I fight the urge to let this all go and come home, but I feel I have more to accomplish before I return. One day I hope you will understand all of this. One day I hope I will. I have no real wisdom to offer you, but let me at least tell you this. I have made many mistakes in my life, but through them all, I have tried to do what I feel is honest. And I have learned - as you doubtlessly will - that the right thing is not often the easy thing. I don't know what this world is going to be like when you are older or what role you will have in it, but to thine own self be true, William. I hope to see you soon. And in case your mother forgets to tell you: Elvis > Three Dog Night Hips before hands The Knicks will always be better than the Miami Heat Love, Your father **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 12 Sep 2001 Scully, let me know you're okay. I know you don't work at the Pentagon, but please check in. On the move again, but will write as soon as possible. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 13 Sep 2001 Mulder, We are fine and no one we know was hurt. While it feels as though the world is falling apart, knowing you're okay gives me something to hang on to. There's a long line of people waiting for this computer so I must run, but I got your letter to William. Be careful. We miss you. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, September 17, 2001 There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke… Quantum suicide? **** Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, September 18, 2001 And downward to the secret things we went Biloxi MI - 6/ 86 Camden NJ - 11/91 **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Sep 2001 Mulder, Thank you for your help on the case. Do you have any updates on your end? Not much to tell here. I'm enjoying teaching very much; the students are so engaged and interested. It's a nice change from the endless parade of world-weary cops and agents. Were we ever that fresh-faced and eager? Thinking of you and aching to see you. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 23 Sep 2001 It is no longer safe for me to contact you. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 24 Sep 2001 Mulder, What's going on? Please find a way to let me know what's happening. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 13 Oct 2001 Mulder, William and I baked a cake and we sang Happy Birthday to your picture. We went shopping for presents and William picked out an oven mitt. I tried to steer him towards the Yankees DVD collection, but he was adamant that you needed protective gear. I have begun to entertain theories of genetic memory. Please let us know you're all right. Many happy returns of the day. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 17 Oct 2001 Hey there partner. Wanted to thank you again for the CPR. They don't really cover that in entomology doctoral programs though, so I'm hard pressed to return the favor. I know you're a mother but I assume you still eat so let me know if you want to grab a bite next time I'm in DC. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 Oct 2001 Dr. Bronzino, Thank you very much for the offer, but it would not be appropriate at this time. Dana Scully **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Oct 2001 Mulder, I know you can't tell me where you are and I am trying to respect what you're doing but this feels impossible sometimes. Not everything has to be a crusade, does it? You wanted to find your sister and while it wasn't the resolution you wanted, you found out the truth. Isn't that enough? We can have a life now. We have a son who needs both of his parents. Let this go, Mulder. **** E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 4 Nov 2001 Mulder, I don't even know why I'm writing this. I don't even know if you're alive. Attached are pictures of William in his Halloween costume. He went as a skunk and can sit up perfectly. **** Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, November 21, 2001 Lost: Norwegian Elkhound Answers to Heinrich Come home, Heinrich We miss you ****

December 3, 2001

Mulder,

I am so concerned for your safety right now that it is overwhelming. I am trying not to be angry with you - truly I am - but it isn't easy. I know what you've told me, I know we discussed all of this and I know we agreed it was for the best, but the reality is proving far different than the theory. As a scientist, I ought to have expected it and yet I was completely blindsided.

I asked you once years ago if we could just get out of the car and you looked at me like I was crazy and you kept driving. And I stayed. Hundreds of thousands of miles I've traveled with you, Mulder. Endless black ribbons of highways full of nightmares and lost souls and we went after them with badges and guns because we had a job to do.

But I'm asking you now - not as your partner, but as the mother of your child - to get out of the goddamned car. I can't live like this anymore, Mulder, and I will not subject William to it.

I love you but I cannot do this for the rest of my life.

I have nowhere to send this letter.

****

December 15, 2001

Mulder,

William said "Da" when he saw your picture today. I have a video.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Dec 2001

Hey Danes -

Our gang's catching an earlier flight from Puerto Vallarta and I wanted to see if you'd be free for dinner. I'm trusting you to pick a not-shitty restaurant because last time I left it up to Bill he said he knew of a "really good Italian place" and took us to the fucking Olive Garden and I swear to God Tara put some of those breadsticks in her purse.

Can't wait to meet my new nephew (you have a kid, Danes!) and see if either of my rugrats is taller than you yet. They're growing like weeds and Larissa's firm is keeping us in Mexico until the resort's finished, so they're all sun-kissed and blonde and I'm mostly a giant freckle.

Mom specifically told me not to ask about William's father, so I'm asking. This Fox guy…what's up with him? Is he good to you? Bill paints him as a kind of Anton LeVay meets Forrest Gump character, but Bill thinks condoms are Satan's party balloons, so what the hell does he know about relationships?

I'm bringing a case of fine champanya to ring in the new year.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 20 Dec 2001

Charlie,

I can't wait to see you all! It's been far too long since your jet-setting crew has ventured this way. Things with William's father are complicated, but it's due to factors beyond either of our control. I don't mean to be curt, but that's all I can say right now.

Dinner would be great. William still doesn't go to bed until fairly late and can be kept happy with a steady supply of food. He has an excellent pincer grasp.

Did Bill really take you to the Olive Garden? That's classic.

****

December 31, 2001

Mulder,

We celebrated Christmas at my mother's and Bill and Charlie and their families flew in. I have lots of pictures to show you of all of the kids together. William is babbling like a champion and I gave him a crayon to draw a picture for you on the back of this card, so turn it over. I remember New Year's Eve two years ago. Zombies, Mulder. And then you kissed me and here I am wishing maybe the world had ended after all because I'm remembering zombies with fondness and what the hell is wrong with my life and my God I miss you.

There was half a bottle of champagne left and now I'm drunk.

Happy New Year

Putting this card with your other unsent mail.

****

January 1, 2002 Dear William,

One day, you'll ask me to speak of a truth - of the miracle of your birth. To explain what is unexplained. And if I falter or fail on this day, know there is an answer, my child, a sacred imperishable truth, but one you may never hope to find alone. Chance meeting your perfect other, your perfect opposite, your protector and endangerer. Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys; a search for truths fugitive and imponderable. If one day this chance may befall you, my son, do not fail or falter to seize it. The truths are out there. And if one day you should behold a miracle, as I have in you, you will learn the truth is not found in science, or on some unseen plane, but by looking into your own heart. And in that moment you will be blessed - and stricken. For the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart.

Know this, William, for it is the most important thing I can hope to teach you: It is not a weakness to love someone. There may come a time when it will be the only strength you have.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002

Dearest Dana

I've resisted contacting you for reasons I know you continue to appreciate. But, to be honest, some unexpected dimensions of my new life are eating away at any resolve I have left. I'm lonely, Dana, uncertain of my ability to live like this. I want to come home. To you, and to William.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002

I am physically shaking right now seeing your words - wishing it were you speaking them to me. I want so badly to see you too, but you are still not safe here. You don't sound like yourself, Mulder, and it's frightening me.

Where in the world have you been?

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 07 Jan 2002

I've seen things I cannot accept and don't know how to change. I feel like the fight has gone out of me and all I want is to come back and put this time behind us.

I will be home soon.

Details to follow in the usual manner.

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, January 8, 2002

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 10 Jan 2002

Mulder,

I hold no hope you can respond to this. Or that it reaches you. I only hope that you are alive.

I cannot help believing that you jumped off that train because you knew what I now know - that these "super-soldiers" - if that's what they are - can in fact be destroyed. That the key to their destruction lies in the iron compound at that quarry.

I am scared for you, Mulder. And for William. The forces against us are unrelenting. But so is my determination to see you again. To regain the comfort and safety we shared for so brief a time. Until then, I remain forever yours,

Dana

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, January 14, 2002

The whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the common world.

Fe3O4

****

Letter received on January 27, 2002

Dana Scully 107 E. Cordova St. Apt. 35 Washington, DC., 01833

1-16-02

Not much time to write Sorry so short saw your note Agreed on Fe3O3 though not sure how yet Love to you both

****

February 2, 2002

Mulder,

I got your last letter and nearly wept with relief to hear from you. I hope this can all end soon. I pray you stay safe until then.

Not sure what the weather is like where you are, but the most beautiful snow has fallen here. William and I have been playing in it at every opportunity and there's a respectable snowman in front of my building now. William likes to eat the snow and blinks when the flakes cling to his eyelashes. He looks more like you every day.

I send regards from Skinner and the Gunmen and my mother lights candles for you.

I wish I had an address to send this to.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 11 Feb 2002

Mulder,

I am hesitant to contact you in this way because I know it is a risk, but I am beginning to fear the worst for William. I don't know what he is but someone does and they are trying to hurt him. I have been working with Reyes and we suspect it all goes back to that artifact I found in Africa, though I can't say I truly understand it. My mother says our son is a miracle and that I must simply accept him as that. But how can I do that, Mulder? After what happened to Emily, how can I not want to know how he came to be whatever he is?

William has been taken from me twice now and I am starting to despair of ever being able to protect him. All the sacrifices we're making right now - what if it comes to nothing? I don't know what to do.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 11 Feb 2002

Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message to the following address.

< [email protected] >

****

Ad placed in the Washington Post Classified section, February 23, 2002

O lady, you in whom my hope gains strength, you who, for my salvation, have allowed your footsteps to be left in Hell, in all the things that I have seen, I recognize the grace and benefit that I, depending upon your power and goodness, have received. You drew me out from slavery to freedom by all those paths, by all those means that were within your power. Do, in me, preserve your generosity, so that my soul, which you have healed, when it is set loose from my body, be a soul that you will welcome.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, February 24, 2002

Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.

****

Ad placed in the New York Times Classified section, March 20, 2002

All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.

Gunmen dead.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 26 Mar 2002

John,

My thoughts are with you and Barbara at this time. Take care.

Dana Scully

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 26 Mar 2002

Thanks Dana. It's been hard but the closure has come as a relief after all this time. I hope you are coming to terms with your own loss as well. They were the good guys.

John Doggett

****

April 20, 2002

Mulder,

I have come to an act of desperation. I have had no way of contacting you - no way to talk this over with you - and so I had to make this choice alone. I have had assurances that our information is to be expunged from every record and I tell myself moment by moment that this is his only chance at a normal life, but what if I have made a mistake that can never be undone?

I vacillate between thinking I have sacrificed my own happiness for his and thinking I have sacrificed him because I am not strong enough to accept what he is. What if that's the case? What if I was just too afraid to see him suffer? Watching Emily die slowly through the glass left me so cold I thought I'd freeze everything I touched, but I didn't know how to grieve for her. They had no right to take those ova from me, no right to create her, and no right to destroy her. She was supposed to be mine and whatever other children were created should have been mine also. But by the time I came to terms with the fact that I was truly her mother, she was already gone. What if the same fate was in store for William? I don't know that I could have stood it.

All I wanted was a child - your child, as the years went on - and I just cannot understand why anyone would create these lives for the express purpose of later destroying them. I don't think we can ever fully know what William means to the Project, but they wanted him dead, Mulder. They wanted to take our son and kill him and would have in time and came close even as I watched over him, and all this before he turned a year old. Jeffrey Spender came to me - terrible things have been done to him - and said that no matter what he did to undo the changes to his little body, William would never have any peace from the men who have been working towards the ends you and I have been fighting.

I believed him, Mulder. I looked into his ruined face and I believe he was telling me the truth and I believe it still. I did the only thing I could think of to protect our son and I can only hope now that you can forgive me.

I don't know what else to do but keep going. It's all I've ever known how to do.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Apr 2002

Dana, what in the hell have you done? Pick up your goddamned phone.

I just got off the phone with mom a little while ago and she's half-hysterical and I'm not far from it myself. What were you thinking? You put your son up for adoption, Dana? That really struck you as the best possible solution? That's what you have a family for. To help you. And no matter how bad things were you should have come to us. I don't know what has happened to you over the years and I don't think I even know who you are anymore, because my sister would never have done something so insane.

We could have taken him in for you if you couldn't deal with being a single mother. God knows where Fox is and why you put up with the crap he dishes out is beyond me, but he has molded you into a woman I don't recognize and I think there is something severely wrong with both of you.

I have faith that you are not beyond salvation, Dana, but you need to cut your ties with him. Come out to San Diego and stay with us. I have already contacted an attorney about having the adoption reversed and because of the extreme emotional duress you've been under he thinks there's a very good shot that Tara and I can get temporary custody while you get your life back together.

It's not too late for you. We love you and want to help, but you have to let us. I am praying for you.

Your brother,

Bill

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 22 Apr 2002

Hey Squirt. Just got an earful from Bill. Mom's too freaked out to be coherent.

I don't know what the fuck is up with you the past few years Danes, but the shit seems to have royally hit the fan of your life. Despite what Bill thinks, you were always the smartest one of us and if this is what you thought was right, well, I guess I have to trust that. I'm just so sorry that you're dealing with this.

We're moving to Marrakech in June for a restaurant Larissa's designing and we have this awesome house with plenty of room for decompressing Feds. Take some leave and come stay for a while.

Worried about you, big sister.

Charlie

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 24 Apr 2002

Dana, I am so worried about you and I think you might need some professional help. Please return my calls. We need to talk.

I love you.

Mom

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

Dana

Please call if you ever need to talk. I am here for you.

Monica

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

Monica,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

I hope this finds you well. Just wanted to see how you were doing.

John Doggett

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 25 Apr 2002

John,

Thank you for your concern. I'm going to be fine. I will be back to work on Monday.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 9 May 2002

Dr. Scully,

My name is John Reits and I am a parapsychologist. I'd like to meet with you concerning a former patient of mine. Please contact me at this address or give me a call at 714-555-0146.

****

E-Mail From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: 19 May 2002

Scully -

Do you ever answer your phone anymore? I need to see you in my office at once. Drop what you are doing and get over here now.

It's about Mulder.

****

The End

****

Notes:

Addendum:

R2NCl + H2O = Bellefleur + Braddock Heights? So claims a woman with node at C5

The Warrior Princess Super-Soldier chick had a node on the back of her neck (around the C5 vertebra) and had informed Scully that chloramine was being introduced into the water supply to transform the populace into super-soldiers. Scully was reminded of the water tampering in Braddock Heights (Wetwired).

****

Fe3O4 + R2NCl = ?

Mulder has discovered evidence of a connection between chloramine and magnetite, but isn't sure what it is.

****

Quantum suicide?

Scully's hoping to get some help on the case from 4D. Quantum suicide - as it pertains to the many-worlds interpretation and the case - encompasses the idea that all moments (however unlikely) with possibilities of occurrence greater than zero are experienced in some dimension.

Mulder's reply is just directing her to some related case files. Which I made up.

****

It was evening here But upon earth the very noon of night.

ncrl

Mulder's train will arrive at the New Carrollton train station at midnight

#my fic #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #season 9 #epistolary

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polyamorouspunk · 3 years

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So I know that this isn't like strictly an advice blog or anything, but I was wondering if you could maybe give me some advice for my relationship? I'm polyam and there just aren't many blogs that'll take questions about it, so I'd appreciate a response even if it's just that you can't really answer my question.

Some background: I'm in a triad with two other guys (we're mlmlm and I love that for us) and I just absolutely adore them. They're two of the coolest people I've ever met and I kind of instantly wanted to be with them. I'm arospec, so that like literally never happens to me, and I was really surprised by how much I instantly vibed with them (the story of how we met and got together is fairly interesting, but not relevant to this). I've known I was polyam since I was a teen, but being arospec means that I haven't had many long term romantic relationships in my life, so I'm very excited to explore this new stuff.

My problem is that I'm just really insecure that I'm not good enough for them and that I'm just a third wheel that they're taking pity on. I know that's silly and it's just a combination of low self esteem and me internalizing toxic monogamy culture, but they're both so cool and have so much history that I'm just scared that I'm never gonna be as important to them as they are to me. N and H (that's what I'll call them for this) have been best friends for 12 years and have been dating for the past 3, whereas I only even met them a little under a year ago. And in terms of personality, N is so bold and confident and gregarious, and H is so witty and sarcastic and ambitious, whereas I'm just kinda... there.

I know they are attracted to me and want to be in a relationship with me, and I'm communicating with them about my insecurities, so mainly what I want help with is fighting the part of my brain that tells me that I'm just an unimportant extra to their lives. I want to figure out what of value I bring to the relationship and what makes me unique in my dynamic with each of them. I think that would help a lot, so if you have any exercises, or anything else that you think would help, I would appreciate it a lot!! Thanks so much!!

I would love to hear the story of how you met!

I also get having low self-esteem. I’m glad you’re already talking to your partners about how you feel. That’s the ideal first step.

And this totally is an advice blog! I love trying to help people: that’s why I’m here.

I look at things from a very borderline perspective. What works for me isn’t going to work for everyone else.

I have things that I consider “mine”. Like, my areas of interest, my shows, my books, etc. that I prefer others not engage in. I’m a very territorial person, but that means I’m able to bring things to the table that others I know maybe aren’t able to. However, one of the downsides to that is sometimes people aren’t interested in your interests and don’t really care to hear what you have to say about things, and would rather talk about what they like, making you feel left out. A good friend or partner will always listen and ask questions though.

You might be bringing them new relationship energy! I also know that whenever I gain an additional partner it makes me more aware of my current relationship and I end up using that new relationship energy or even new crush energy into being an even more positive partner and checking up on my main relationship. When I feel giddy from flirting with people I take that giddiness and turn it on my boyfriend and flirt with him and tell him how much I love him and how cute he is, etc. so when I’m feeling good, he feels good.

At some point in your life you’ve made a difference. We’ve all fucked up, and when you’re mentally ill it’s REALLY hard not to focus on those moments instead of all the good we’ve done. Just try to remind yourself if you can how much you’ve helped people, and how much you can help your partners by being there for them in the future.

Age old advice, but try your best to avoid self-deprecating thoughts. My mental health has been trash lately, especially the last few days, and my suicidal ideation and negative self esteem is through the roof, and I’m just constantly trashing myself and thinking about how bad of a person I am- and it’s easy because a few days ago I literally had people telling me how shitty and awful and bad I was and that I was selfish and childish- it’s not just my voice, it’s the voices of people I thought were my friends. I’m depressed, I’m in a rut, I don’t want to get out of bed, I don’t want to be alive, and every day is a fucking struggle. I’m trying my best to change things in my life to make myself even just a bit better- unfollowing certain people, remaking my discord, anything to avoid anything that’s going to make me feel even worse and try something. I know that no time soon am I going to be able to reorder my thoughts into something less self-deprecating/go over the horrible things that were said to me. But that’s an eventual goal. And even through all of that I make sure I don’t take any of it out on my partner. Because none of it is his fault and he’s been nothing but supportive to me.

Every day is a battle. Some days are good some days aren’t. I wish you the best in your mental health journey as someone who is right there fighting every day with you. Make sure you take care of other areas of your life so that those don’t weigh you down. Don’t ignore problems until they become too big to deal with, because that’s going to affect all parts of your life, including your relationship. And you are cool, I promise. Stay weird, stay sexy, and don’t get murdered.

#punk gets mail #personal #depression tw #the punk gives good advice #self harm implication #suicide implication

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dearlazerbunny · 4 years

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Can I have Kylo for fluff alphabet please? Thank you!

All of them?! I mean if you ~insist~

(Alphabet prompt here)

Kylo x Reader Fluff ABCs 💜

Activities: Free time is scarce, so he’ll mostly visit you at night when the two of you can curl up in bed, watch the stars, and talk about anything and everything. Technically it’s always night in space, but when he’s with you the black seems to dim a little, and the stars shine brighter. It’s the best sort of night, the ones that make you think there are as many possibilities as there are planets in the sky.

Beauty: Kylo LOVES your smile. You smile so easily, whereas he can count on one hand the number of times he’s smiled in the pas year- each time because of you. And he still has to remind himself how to breathe anytime he makes you smile.

Comfort: He’s excellent at holding you close and just letting you cry it out, running his fingers through your hair, and keeping his lips pressed to the top of your head so you know he’s there. Sometimes he’ll tell stories- the same ones his mother told him, about adventures in space and good defeating evil and how hope makes the universe turn. He doesn’t know if he believes in those old stories anymore- but he knows you do.

Dreams: Somewhere quiet, somewhere far away from any war or light side and dark side and Jedis and metal monstrosities that destroy planets on a whim. It’d be a simple house- maybe in a forest, set away from a tiny village- with just enough space for the two of you and maybe... maybe a child. The three of you would lie in the tall grass- a little boy or girl tugging on his mother’s clothes and giggling at the feeling of the dirt beneath his feet- and tell new stories. Because now he doesn’t need those old stories telling him about light and hope- he has his own, sitting right in front of him.

Equal: Kylo is not used to someone standing up to him and calling him on his bullshit. Kylo cannot remember the last time someone called him “Ky” without having a rather vicious meeting with the glowing end of his lightsaber. Kylo definitely isn’t used to someone being in his personal space- a touch on his arm, holding hands, a leg wrapped around his when the two of you are in bed. He might a six-foot-something menace in all black and a scary sword, but you have an infinite amount of little ways of telling him that he is not the boss of you. Period.

Fight: Fighting is loud- there’s a good amount of yelling and stomping around. Most of it stems from insecurities: he can’t get it out of his head that you aren’t going to drop him on a whim someday when you realize how broken he is; you hate that he’s constantly diving headfirst into a war where you can’t do anything to protect him. One night, after a particularly horrible bout, you voice the idea that the insecurities get smaller when the trust gets bigger. So now, any argument, big or small, is only over when the two of you can look at each other and honestly say, “I trust you.”

Gratitude: He knows you’re doing... something, but he doesn’t really realize how much until one day he’s sitting with you, your fingers intertwined, laughing at something ridiculously stupid and only funny to the two of you, and he’s looking at you and how your eyes sparkle when you laugh and he notices he hasn’t heard any of the voices in his head since you started giggling. He’ll tell you later- he wants to hear your laugh for just a little bit longer.

Honesty: Kylo definitely keeps secrets- mostly his fears. He’s scared you’ll leave him, that one day you’ll walk away and won’t come back. He wants a future with you- not just a future, but an endgame- and every day it seems less and less likely. He worries he isn’t what you deserve. He’s scared he’ll hurt you accidentally; he’s terrified he’ll hurt you intentionally. He’s never told you any of this, but the funny thing is- you kind of already know.

Inspiration: You’ve changed him for the better, and keep doing so every day. Much like the realization from Gratitude, he won’t quite know the extent of it until one day it smacks him in the face and he finally thinks, oh.

Jealousy: Yes, and it’s something the two of you have to work on. Constantly. To his credit, he went from hunting down one of your work friends in the middle of the night after he gave you a hug in the mess hall to (occasionally) haltingly and frustratingly voicing his feelings. It’s progress, and you’re willing to stick by him for however long it takes.

Kiss: Your first kiss was incredibly tentative, soft, and barely there. You weren’t quite sure it even had happened, except Kylo’s look of absolute shock clued you in that it very much did. Then about five seconds later you realized that was probably Kylo’s first kiss. Ever. He doesn’t really get it at first- he’s stiff and awkward and at one point frustratingly blurted out ‘but what do I do with my hands.’ He’s much better now. Practice makes perfect after all, and let’s be real, kissing this man is a hardship you are more than willing to bear.

Love Confession: He wanders into your room one night, antsy and agitated and very thrown off by... something. You don’t know what, because he refuses to tell you- just paces your room clenching and unclenching his fists while you desperately try to figure out what’s wrong. Eventually, he faces you, bewildered, looks you dead in the eye, and says I love you- which spirals you into a cacophony of relief, giddiness, happiness, and laughter all in about five second’s time. While he’s looking put out from you laughing at him, you kiss him on the lips once... twice... and say, I know.

Marriage: He thinks he’d like to marry you someday. It’d be simple- you’d carry a bouquet of wildflowers, maybe with some braided in your hair as well. The rings would both be a beautiful smoky grey, and yours has a small piece of his kyber crystal set in the center. He doesn’t know who would be there... Hux? The two of you are friends. The people you work with... well, they don’t know about you. He knows it’s impossible, but he always pictures his mother there too, to give you away.

Nicknames: Kylo isn’t really one for nicknames. You call him Ky, love, babe when you want to get a rise out of him- but every so often, in the dead of night, when you’re half asleep and not quite sure if you’re dreaming it, he’ll pull you close and whisper my queen before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

On Cloud Nine: Nobody knows. Not a single soul. Have you seen that man’s poker face? Hux and Phasma can guess something is up, but that something being ‘Kylo Ren in love’ is so far out of the realm of possibility that it doesn’t even make the top 101 Things That Might Be Going On With Ren. You think it’s hilarious, and also kind of sweet- he saves that side of himself for you and you only.

PDA: See the above. PDA is not a thing with him, for a multitude of reasons: he has an image to maintain, he doesn't want you to get hurt if potentially being used against him, he simply doesn’t know how to initiate such things. You respect his want for privacy- you don’t want to be rumor mill fodder either. But on the very few occasions you find yourselves out and alone together, you’ll give him a peck on the mask where his cheek would be. That’s enough for you.

Quirk: I don’t know if the Force counts as a quirk, but it definitely makes you laugh when he decides to do stupid party tricks in an effort to cheer you up (think Aang and his marble trick in A:TLA 😂). In the back of your mind, you can’t help but imagine him doing the same innocent magic tricks to the delight of your son or daughter someday.

Romantic: He’s romantic while having no sense of traditional romance. If you mention a favorite flower, there’ll be a vase of them in your room the next day. When you tease him for doing something sweet, he just looks baffled. “You said you liked these. So I procured some. You’re welcome?” The fact that he doesn’t get how much his gestures actually mean makes them that much sweeter.

Support: Kylo thinks you could probably end this whole war single-handed if they plopped you down in the middle of the battlefield. Not that he’d ever test that theory. But if someone has the capability of making him start thinking of things like a future, they have more power in their fist than he does with the entirety of the Force.

Thrill: Considering this is all still fairly new to Kylo, even something like kissing the back of his hand sends him into shutdown mode for a second or two. You’re taking it slow. It took him a whole two months to even get used to the idea of holding hands on the regular.

Understanding: Kylo worries this is an area he’s lacking in. What he doesn’t know is that he instinctively knows when you need a hug, picks up on your moods before you even know what that mood is, and often knows what you’re thinking before you say it. He doesn’t think highly enough of himself to say that he knows someone as wonderful as you so intimately, but the truth is he’s pretty much got you on lock.

Value: You are everything. If he knew there would be no repercussions, and you’d be safe, he would drop everything and move to that little house in the forest with you, War, Skywalkers, and Snoke be damned. At some point, he stopped fighting this war to rid himself of his past and started fighting it so that you and he might have a future.

Wild Card: You have a tendency to pull hair whenever you get really frustrated, so Kylo offered to let you play with his instead- obviously, you are infinitely more careful with him than you are yourself. This eventually morphed into you being able to craft Disney-princess-worthy braids and updos with his hair. Sometimes he’ll let you tuck a flower in it if he really wants to see you laugh.

XOXO: This poor man is touch s t a r v e d. The second you start being physically affectionate with him, he never wants you to stop- laying by his side, holding your hand, playing with his hair, wrapping himself around you. Not that anyone outside of the two of you would have any idea.

Yearning: You aren’t a Force user, but you’re connected to the point where when he’s away on a mission, he can send you a thought or a feeling to let you know he’s thinking of you. More than once you’ve felt the slight sensation of his fingers on your cheek or him walking beside you, even though he’s lightyears away.

Zeal: if you and Luke Skywalker were standing side by side, and he could only reach one of you, he’d grab you by the hand, start running, and never let go.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fluff #abcs #abcs of kylo ren #kylo ren headcanons #kylo ren imagine #request #star wars request #star wars fluff

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bexterbex · 4 years

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A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 26

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 26: Reconditioning and Lack of Information

Lieutenant Mitaka informed you that it was time to go, so you put your laptop away and headed to the hangar. Surprisingly it was not General Pryde waiting for you this morning it was Allegiant General Hux. “Good morning m’lady I will be joining you at the Health Committee today,” he said collapsing his hands behind his back following you into the shuttle.

“Is there a reason why General Pryde isn’t here,” you ask.

“The Supreme Leader thought it was best that his best general would join you today,” replied Hux while strapping himself in.

You received a message on your phone from Kylo, ‘Good morning. I look forward to having dinner with you tonight. It is my wish that you will have a better day today.’

You look back up at the general, “So what you’re saying is someone informed the Supreme Leader to what happened at dinner last night.”

The general lifted his chin and with a neutral face said, “It is my duty to make sure that any time you are not with the Supreme Leader that you are comfortable. Last night you were not comfortable and so I justly informed him of this. In our morning meeting, he informed me that I am to escort you today and that General Pryde is to remain on board the ship this morning. He also believes that some of the next few health committee meetings you will need proper assistance as the health officials from your planet have stepped down. I am also the most informed person as to where your education on the First Order is thus far.”

You shook your head slightly at this. So you were being watched by Hux, he was informing Kylo about you, seemingly behind your back. But why would your education come into play? You were discussing your planet, not the First Order. You just hummed in response. Your mood was not better, in fact, it soured from when you woke up this morning.

You arrived at the White House and entered the meeting room. All of the doctors and nurses seemed to sit up straighter in the presence of General Hux.

“Allegiant General Hux, it is an honor to have you join us for this morning’s meeting,” said Dr. Koroban.

“Thank you, Dr. Koroban. I will be assisting Lady Ren in the negotiations as we are now without help from her own planet. General Pryde will remain on board the Steadfast for the time being,” replied Hux who sat next to you, whereas General Pryde normally sat opposite of you.

“On our agenda today I believe it is best to start with the topic of exercise,” said Dr. Koroban.

“As we have discussed in the past there are many ‘first world’ countries that do not take care of themselves health-wise as they should. There is a large population that has a sedentary lifestyle. I believe your planet m’lady uses the term office jobs,” said Dr. Dabrini.

“Yes, currently it is recommended that people receive at least 30 minutes of exercise a day and at least 10,000 steps,” you reply.

“One course of action that we may want to debate is broadcasting morning exercise videos to the citizens. Nothing too strenuous, something like light aerobics. Stretching and basic exercises,” replied Dr. Dabrini.

“When you say broadcasted you do you mean something like public television? Because many local public stations in ‘first world’ countries already do something similar. Mostly for those who are of retirement age,” you ask.

“No m’lady broadcast as in mandatory. We do it on all First Order planets. We have found it to be very effective,” replied Dr. Dabrini.

You knew there were daily morale-boosting videos that were standard in First Order occupied planets, but you were not comfortable with something like this. Mandatory exercises for everyone on the planet? Flashbacks from world history popped into your head, specifically the topic of the Hitler Youth.

“You realize my planet has not been affected by the influence of the Empire like many of your other planets? Our people, for the most part, are used to their freedom or at least the ideals of freedom. While this might be something that some people might like, the majority of the planet will not stand for this invasion of privacy,” you respond.

An officer who you have noticed in the meetings but has never spoken up before says, “Privacy is something you give up for the good of the First Order m’lady. You only gain it back once you have served the First Order well enough. It is a privilege to be earned.”

You turned to look at the general trying to watch his face in response. “This isn’t something you have told me. You told me you give up personal desires. On this planet privacy isn’t a personal desire, it is viewed as a right.” His face revealed nothing, he just stared at the wall on the opposite side of the room.

The officer spoke again, “Allegiant General sir, was it not your father Commandant Brendol Hux who said, War is peace, Freedom is slavery, Ignorance is strength when talking about those who have not learned of the ways of the First Order?”

“Yes, it was,” responded Hux who now has looked over at the officer his face still neutral or rather emotionless.

“If the memo that was sent out this morning was correct, then 85 percent of Earth’s population has already been registered and subsequently has effectively been taking their education sources. And with the 9 percent predicted to register today and 4 percent tomorrow then the majority of this planet has given up on their privacy already. Making that argument invalid,” responded the officer.

Hux’s demeanor changed at this, “Lieutenant Rodinon need I remind you that this is Lady Ren’s planet that you are speaking of. While you have been born and raised in the First Order, she has not. If you wish to remain in your position I suggest you remember who you are speaking to.” The was heat in his voice but the lieutenant did not back down.

“So has she not been receiving the enlightenment materials? She would know this by now if she were. What use will she be to the First Order if she constantly questions our motives,” asked the lieutenant who seemed to want to fight with the general.

“She is being tutored by me, lieutenant. I should not have to tell you that the Supreme Leader has asked that she receives a different education than others on her planet. Afterall she will one day be the empress of our empire. Apparently, I need to remind you of that fact since you have seemingly ignored it in your debriefings. Captain Pyre,” called the general to your usual golden guard. Who entered the room with two other storm troopers guarding the now open door. “Please have one of your men escort Lieutenant Rodinon for reconditioning. Make sure they tell Colonel Datoo that he should not only review the ‘Character Guidance Program’ but also the memos regarding Lady Ren’s status.”

With this, you saw that there was fear laced in the lieutenant’s eyes as he was escorted by the armed stormtroopers out of the room. Still facing the general you asked, “do you care to explain what just happened?”

His face emotionless once more, except for the muscle that you could see straining in his jaw. “Dr. Koroban if you would excuse Lady Ren and myself for the moment. I ask that you do not resume this committee until instructed to do so, we should be back shortly.” With that he gestured for you to stand and follow him, you made your way down to the familiar red sitting room to which you two were left alone in.

With his hands behind his back, he began to pace while explaining, “It is under orders from the Supreme Leader that you do not receive the same enlightenment as the rest of your people. For many reasons, as you are to know more about the galaxy and the meaning behind the First Order that you will one day fully help run. And the civilian enlightenment program has some drawbacks once you have received the first 3 lessons.”

“What drawbacks exactly?” There was now a present irritable tone in your voice.

“They tend to make citizens more docile to the First Order presence. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, but the Supreme Leader has expressed the desire that he would not like that effect to happen to you.”

“So it is brainwashing them. You are brainwashing my planet into docile creatures. And Kylo approved this!”

At the mention of Kylo’s name, you saw one of the general’s eyebrows minutely raise. “We are not brainwashing them m’lady we are merely enlightening them to the path of order. They see how the First Order can help them and they accept it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t believe you. And he wants me to be not docile, but yet complicit because I don’t know what’s happening to my own people!”

“M’lady I believe this is something he can explain to you best,” the general’s arms were now in front of him in an almost surrendering position.

“But what about the reconditioning that you sent the lieutenant to? What is reconditioning?” You could feel the anger building and yet dissipating within you.

“That is something of a requirement in our officer and enlisted core. As you could see the lieutenant was acting in a disrespectful manner towards me and yourself. It is merely a relearning of the rules and regulations that they seemed to forget or deemed to ignore. I can show you it sometime if you wish m’lady.”

Your anger still hadn’t fully dissipated, “You also said that I would be an empress. That I would one day run the First Order. I have no desire to do this. I did not sign up to rule a military regime let alone a galaxy!”

The general had fully paused and turned to face you. His hands were behind his back and a stern look on his face, “My lady I do not appreciate you undo criticism towards me. This is something you should discuss with the Supreme Leader if you have an issue, not myself. Might I suggest that we return to the meeting? We can switch up the topic to one you would rather discuss and leave any other topic until you have had a discussion with the Supreme Leader.”

You relented. He was still part of the problem, being a part of the First Order and all, but he was not who you were directly angry with. He was right, Kylo really hasn’t told you much as he rather preferred to leave that to someone else, like Hux. You nodded to him and followed him back to the conference room. You knew that Kylo would have some explaining to do tonight at dinner. For now, you tried to focus back on the task at hand.

“I believe we should change subjects for now. Lady Ren is there a topic you would like to discuss,” asked the general.

“The topic of sickness prevention. I think we should right now focus on the citizen and not any major procedural items.”

“So you would like a campaign again for citizens to see talking about the basics of sickness prevention, and not any policies that any institution would put in place. Is this correct m’lady,” asked Dr. Koroban.

“Yes, although it may need to be discussed. There is also the matter of sick leave time as many who are sick must return to work sooner than they would like for things like the common cold. But yes I think a campaign, like the one for hygiene, should be done to prevent contagious sicknesses.”

“Something along the lines of washing your hands, don’t touch your face, stay home when sick, and don’t share food or drink with others? Common sense items but things that should be readdressed,” asked Dr. Dabrini.

“Yes. These were all things I learned in school but upon entering the workforce it seems like it is something people have either forgotten or just ignore.”

“I can have Petty Officer Tanau look into that, you have already done so much m’lady,” said Dr. Koroban.

“That’s fine, but could she send me what she finds so I can review it before it gets sent to the Supremacy for final inspection?”

“Yes, Lady Ren. I think that would be most wise. I’ll let Lieutenant Mitaka know when it is done as to not to disturb you. But I think we should wrap up this meeting for today,” with that Dr. Koroban dismissed everyone.

“My lady would you like to join me and Admiral Frantis Griss for lunch in the officer’s lounge,” asked Hux.

“Only if you allow Lieutenant Mitaka to join us.”

The general made eye contact with the lieutenant and noded. You were then off back to the shuttle to take your lunch.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo x you #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #first order propaganda #a soul to mend his own #hold onto your butts its about to get more spicy #I hope you liked this chapter

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d-naggeluide · 4 years

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It's the year 2020 and I'm having thoughts about the Tokyo Ghoul finale…

First of all, this show does a marvelous job of fleshing out both sides of the conflict. You sympathize with the ghouls as much as the humans, even if the ghouls are eating people and the humans are hunting ghouls. It almost seems as if there aren't sides, except you're reminded of that conflict constantly, embodied in the main character of Kaneki.

This gets pushed a little to the background after the first few episodes, though, and while I always knew it would have to resurface with a resolution, I wasn't expecting the impact it would have. More than just accepting Rize and the ghoul part of him, Kaneki goes above and beyond -- he surpasses her, and it's a bit unclear what this means but no less tragic for it.

It's equally heartbreaking how the cycle of violence is perpetuated. From the CCG to Jason/Yamori, from Yamori to Kaneki -- and who knows who Kaneki will bring it to next? Touka? Hinami? I'm almost content to leave the series here with an open ending that can go either way, but I think I'm too invested at this point and will definitely have to read the manga. I'm hoping that in the next installment Kaneki manages to find the human part of himself again and fight against the bloodthirsty personality he, like Yamori, was forced to develop in order to protect himself.

I can't help but compare Kaneki to the king of cognitive dissonance himself, Eren Yeager. While in the Attack on Titan world, it's possible for Eren to both be a Titan and hate Titans, Kaneki doesn't get the luxury of this choice. In Tokyo Ghoul, lines are drawn so clearly black-and-white even while the characters themselves are all in full color, whereas in Attack on Titan, one can be a part-time Titan who's still seen primarily as human. Ghoul instincts are depicted as overpowering and all-consuming, but it's far easier to get a Titan shifter to listen to you. (The truth of Attack on Titan -- that in order to defeat the monsters, one must give up their humanity and become one -- is not as brutal as the truth of Tokyo Ghoul: everyone is already a monster.) What would Attack on Titan look like if Eren was forced to choose, and what would Tokyo Ghoul look like if Kaneki was allowed to be both?

Speaking of which, I think the root of my conflict about the finale is how Rize's words sit uncomfortably with me. She convinces Kaneki that to not choose is weakness, not strength. Kaneki's mantra up till then has been that it's better for him to be hurt than for others to be hurt. Yamori tests this in the most brutal way, forcing Kaneki to choose who dies: the price of indecision is the death of both. This, along with finally allowing himself to be selfish and ask why his mother couldn't stay for him, serves as the final straw to force Kaneki to embrace the ghoul in himself. I think that Rize is deliberately manipulating Kaneki by not acknowledging that to choose both is still a choice, and a heroic one at that. In the end, Kaneki’s choice is the death of a hero in so many ways -- utter destruction of their character, the one thing that fueled their previous actions becoming their Achilles heel. What survives, or what it's the birth of, will remain to be seen (no spoilers, please!)

Anyway, I love these themes of internal conflict, identity, duality, and morality, so thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#tokyo ghoul #meta #Kaneki Ken #CCG #Attack on Titan #Eren Yeager #monsters #tragedy YAY

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queerbreadcrumbs · 3 years

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I wrote this letter to for when I eventually come out (:

To my loved ones,

I wrote this letter to explain something important to you, because I value our relationship and your support. I wanted to share with you that I don’t fully identify as the current gender I am recognized as. I’m non-binary. As such, from now on it’d be great if you could address me as “Rowan” rather than “*******” and use they/them pronouns for me. Obviously, I know that this will take some time to adjust to and I’m not expecting miracles, but genuine effort will mean the world!

I understand that this may be somewhat confusing, especially as you’ve all known me for quite some time. Over the course of this letter, I have included answers to the most common questions people have, as well as definitions and resources for further information. I’m also happy to answer any questions you may have regarding this insofar as they are respectful.

What does non binary mean?

- Non- Binary or genderqueer individuals have a gender identity and/or expression that is neither man or woman. Some people are both, or are fluid in their gender identities or expressions and others are neither. In my case, it’s that I don’t identify particularly strongly with either gender. Most of the time I don’t feel like either a man or a woman, I just am.

Are you trans?

- Well yes and no. Yes in the sense that I don’t agree with the gender assigned to me at birth, no in the sense that I have no desire to transition to male.

Do I have to do anything?

- Not really! As I mentioned earlier, my name is now Rowan, and my pronouns are now they/them. So instead of saying something like “I like ******, she bakes really good cakes” or “****** left her coat here!” you’d instead say “I like Rowan, they bake really good cakes.” Or “Rowan left their coat here!” The only thing you really have to do is make a conscious effort not to use my old name and pronouns.

What are pronouns and why do you want new ones?

- Pronouns are a group of words we use as short versions for nouns. The most common ones in the English language are she/her/ (feminine) and he/him (masculine). The singular form of these that isn’t gendered is usually thought to be “it/it’s” and personally I find this much more jarring in a sentence than they/them. Firstly, because it’s dehumanising. We tend to use the pronoun “it” when describing an inanimate object. “Look at that potato, it’s got eyes growing on it!” Whereas when describing a group of people, or someone whose gender you don’t know, the grammatically correct pronouns to give would be they/them. I don’t really know my gender, so I don’t expect you to figure it out through a complex use of English syntax. They/them, like you would use with any other unknown is fine.

- This is something I want to change because people using she/her in reference to me makes me quite uncomfortable. When I am referred to as female it kind of feels like I’m an imposter or deceiving people in some way, like you’re seeing something that’s not there and that you’ll be cross when you find out I’ve been lying to you. I’d like to change my pronouns as I want to be honest with you all about who I am.

Why “Rowan”?

- Rowan is a Gaelic name which comes from the Rowan tree. (Like the name Willow is after the Willow tree) In Scottish Gaelic it means “little redhead” and has always been a unisex name, although usually these days we see it more for boys than girls. I imagine most of you would immediately think of Rowan Atkinson. (Mr Bean, Blackadder)

- I chose Rowan for a few reasons. Firstly because of its Gaelic origin and my desire to keep some connection to my Celtic roots. Secondly it sounds similar to ******* and has the same number of syllables which should help you when remembering to use it! Thirdly as those of you related to me directly will know, when those of us assigned female at birth (AFAB) reach a certain age our hair reddens before turning grey. As my hair has already started to pick this up, I thought a name meaning “redhead” was appropriate.

- I wanted to change this because my given name is quite feminine and much like being referred to as she/her, being called ‘*******’ makes me feel very uncomfortable. You’d think being called it for 24 years would be enough to get used to it, but apparently not!

Why change this now?

- I’ll admit that this all may be quite shocking or confusing to some of you. Please know that I have given this no small amount of thought. Accepting myself as I am has been a long and arduous process for me, so I understand if it feels like a lot for my loved ones too.

- Looking back, it feels like I’ve had a difficult relationship with gender. As some of you will remember I was always a bit of a tomboy growing up. It took a long time for me to be comfortable wearing dresses.

- As a teenager though, I began to face increasing pressure to be feminine, and was often called a lesbian for the way I chose to present myself. I had short hair and wore many a check shirt with doc martens. I loved it! Although, I did notice on the occasion I didn’t do this and presented in a more feminine way I was praised for this. People told me I looked nicer; people treated me better. The teasing stopped and I lived with less harassment which felt nice. Unfortunately, though I interpreted this feeling nice as enjoying being perceived as female.

- I was still quite uncomfortable and some of my friends and loved ones picked up on this. However, I didn’t think it too important to question.

- BUT NOT FOR LONG! Lockdown had a profound effect on me coming to terms with my gender. Because I wasn’t going anywhere, I no longer had to perform femininity. I just wore what felt good. I cut my hair really short and liked it! I was very comfortable with being at home, both physically and mentally.

- However, when lockdown ended, I got a new job. I had to start performing again and the long hiatus made me realise just how uncomfortable I actually am being seen as a woman. The kids at school call me “miss.” I get called ****** constantly as people are trying to get my attention in the conventional way rather than just throwing things at me or just touching me like Tom does. Honestly, I hate it and it’s profoundly exhausting, which is why I’ve decided I want to live as Rowan.

- Another thing that put all of this into sharp perspective for me was getting engaged. Don’t misunderstand, I love Tom more than anything in the world, and I still want very much to get married to him and for us to spend the rest of our lives together. I’m still very excited about our wedding! However, the language used to talk about weddings and engagements and the expectations surrounding them are very gendered! Words like ‘bride’ or ‘wife’ feel very strange and foreign when applied to me. As mentioned earlier though I don’t want to be a husband or groom either. I’m not sure there are alternatives for these words. I quite like how romantic “betrothed” sounds but I also don’t want to sound like I’ve just walked out of 1655.

- Trying on wedding dresses was another huge hurdle for me. Part of it was my self-esteem issues and lack of confidence but everything I tried on made me feel like a fake, a failure. It being during times of COVID, I wasn’t permitted to take anyone with me to my fitting appointments. As such, I had these strange, unfamiliar saleswomen telling me I’d make a stunning bride and all such other nonsense while I felt just…wrong. At the time, I remember discussing it with my friends after sending them some pictures of me wearing wedding dresses. The words I used were “I felt like an imposter.” This is not just because I’m not used to wearing anything fancy. It’s because I’m not a woman. The clothes you wear on your wedding day are meant to make you feel fantastic, and I didn’t feel even comfortable in any of them, let alone fantastic. I have since purchased a dress to wear on my wedding day. It is simple, and I will style it to make myself as happy as I can be. I will still look like a “bride”. I’m just going to try to be as comfy as I can, reminding myself that clothes have no gender.

What about clothes?

- Typically, clothes are gendered. You walk into a shop and they usually have a men’s range and a women’s range. Because I am neither, I shop in both ranges!

- I do also own a fair few dresses and skirts. This won’t change. Clothes have no gender. Traditionally yes, women wear dresses and skirts. But plenty of people who identify as men wear them and find them comfortable. Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, Harry Styles, Jayden Smith. These are all men, and yet they have all rocked skirts at one point or another. My wearing a dress or a skirt doesn’t make me any less non-binary as much as it didn’t make these guys any less of a man.

- Furthermore, it wasn’t that long ago that trousers were deemed too masculine for women. However most modern women wear trousers, a lot of the time. Some of you are probably wearing trousers right now. Trousers have only recently begun to be considered neutral in our culture. Of course, it depends massively these days on the cut and the fit of them, but trousers can absolutely be masculine or feminine, just like me. I truly believe that one day skirts and dresses will become this neutral. They have been for a long time in Scotland.

- In my mind this also explains why my personal preference for clothing has always been baggy and loose fitting.

Gendered terminology

- As I mentioned previously when I talked about weddings, a lot of family language is heavily gendered. Son/Daughter, Husband/Wife, Niece/Nephew, Mum/Dad, Auntie/Uncle, Brother/Sister ect. Some of these words have gender neutral equivalents, and others don’t really. Where there is a gender-neutral equivalent, I would prefer it. Where there isn’t, I’m okay to be referred to as the female variant. For example, I’m fine being “Auntie Rowan”, “Dawn’s daughter[1]” or “Tom’s wife.[2]” But, I’d rather be Winnie’s parent than her mum, my Auntie’s nibling than her niece and Leanne’s sibling than her sister. If this sounds a little odd in conversation, and I’m sure it will do at first, you can say things like “My daughter uses they/them pronouns.”

So, are you “out, out”?

- This letter is the start of my “social” transition. This is the part where the trans or non-binary person begins to live as themselves. As my close friends and family, I have chosen to share this with you first. As I live authentically, I want you to hear it from me, and have it explained by me rather than just stumbling across the fact I’ve changed my name on social media.

- However, I’m not fully out yet. I’ve not yet informed anyone I work with or anyone in an official capacity, such as my doctor and I’m not using my new name legally just yet.

- Please be mindful when discussing this with others that they may not be accepting. What matters is that you accept me. If you think telling a specific person might put me at risk, then don’t tell them.

- If you want to discuss this with extended family that’s fine!

More information

- If you have questions that I haven’t answered here let me know and I’ll do my best to answer.

- If you don’t feel comfortable asking me or just want more information on non-binary identities: - https://lgbt.foundation/who-we-help/trans-people/non-binary - https://gender.wikia.org/wiki/Non-binary - “A Field Guide to gender-neutral language” Shelley Roth (50p on apple books, or I could smuggle you a copy!)

In conclusion, I hope that you’re able to understand and support me in my coming out and coming to terms with my nonbinary identity, and that this doesn’t ruin, but strengthen our relationship. This has been very hard for me to share, but I’m ready to be my authentic self. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.

Yours,

*********

[1] Technically yes, Son/Daughter do have the gender-neutral variant of child, but It’d be kind of weird to call a 24 year old a child, so please don’t.

[2] I hate the word “spouse” it just sounds like “spout” and I’d rather be someone’s wife than someone’s spout any day.

#coming out #coming out letter #non-binary #trans #personal #in the closet

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chittaprint · 4 years

Text

Bad With Words

Paring: Hendery (Wong Kunhang) x reader

Genre: fluff, romance, comedy, mild angst

A late christmas present to the lovely @cherrysweettea !! I hope you like it! Hendery is such a sweet angel, and I really tried to do him justice with this story despite not usually writing for these genres. I hope it’s enjoyable

“You need to give yourself more credit! You’ve worked so hard. Honestly, nobody deserves this opportunity more than you do,” you lectured, lightly rolling your eyes at Hendery’s, your best friend, antics. He was always doing this, thinking lowly of himself. Unfortunately, this was quite the habit of his.

“Yeah, I know, but so many other people dedicate their whole lives just to get this opportunity and done…” Hendery responded, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m thrilled, don’t get me wrong, but I still can’t believe that I, out of the tens of thousands of people who auditioned, got picked…” he trailed off. So humble. Although he was facing away from you, you could tell that he was reflecting on everything that had happened all within a matter of months. Hendery often talked to you about his case of imposter syndrome, his belief that he wasn’t good enough to join the ranks of celebrities.

While it hurt you to see him constantly tear at his self-worth, it was nice to know someone who embodied so much talent and also such humility. Too many celebrities, in your opinion, understood that they were famous, that they were talented, and flaunted it as if it were some golden VIP card for superior treatment. Maybe it was different because you knew Hendery personally; he was one of your best friends and had never used his talent as a form of superiority. At heart, he really seemed just like an ordinary, kind boy.

“Exactly!” you jumped up out of the beanbag and extended your arms. Hendery’s dark eyes widened a bit in surprise and he stopped folding the shirt in his suitcase. “And SM is going to be so thankful to have an idol as hardworking and talented as you! Or at least he’d better be, or I’m going to fly to Seoul and fight Lee Soo Man on your behalf,” you declared, swiping your arms through the air dramatically. “Korean laws be damned, mess with my best friend and I’ll come for you – CEO? Secret assassin? Doesn’t matter.”

Hendery began to laugh as he crouched over his suitcase. He tried to cover his wheezy laughter with one of his hands, but he failed to mask the sound as per usual. It was also at this moment that he realized that he wasn’t going to get anymore packing done with you around, so he stopped and stood up. “Aw, but what if you get barred from our concerts?” He pouted. “What will I do without your support?”

You arched a brow at him and recoiled slightly in seeming shocked. Bringing a hand to your chest to feign disbelief and scoffing lightly, you replied, “have you forgotten that my acting skills are what got me accepted into our high school and my dream university? You’re talking to a future actress, here! If I received As on all my acting performances throughout high school then I can get past security.” It was all true.

Hendery laughed again, this time making no effort to hide his laugh, and you smiled. “Oh yes,” he pondered between laughs, “how could I forget. You really convinced Mr. Chen that he cancelled the quiz for that class, huh.”

A smile pulled at the corner of your lips in response as the fond memory resurfaced in your mind. Ah, junior year - that had been a particularly fun year. It was also the same year that Hendery had placed second in your school’s annual talent performance contest, which was no small feat considering you both attended one of the best performing arts academies in East Asia. “Only because you caught on and helped me,” you giggled slightly before sighing. “My point is,” you continued with an added emphasis, “you deserve this so much.” The smile grew on your face as his gentle eyes met yours, causing a small grin to swing up onto his lower face

Your eyes moved down to look at Hendery’s half-packed suitcase and the entire mood in the room seemed to shift somewhat. Whereas the space had seconds ago been filled light laughter and smiles, the atmosphere had no ebbed away into feelings of melancholy and unspoken uncertainties. Even the setting sun helped add to the effect. Hendery peered at you with a questioning look on his face, not quite sure what to think of your sudden change of attitude. That was until his eyes followed yours to his suitcase, and he understood everything; nothing needed to be said.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow...” the words escaped your mouth before you registered what you had just said. Just as quickly as the words had slipped out, you realized your mistake. Eyes widening and shoulders tensing, it took everything in your power not to slap your hand over your mouth or jump right out the window on your right. Oh, was it a tempting offer right now.

You dumb emotions! Why is now that you decide to show yourself and not when I’m on stage and need you? you shouted mentally. “I–sorry,” you stammered, glancing at Hendery and hoping that your cheeks were not a crazy mess of pink. “I just–” but the words would not come out, and in fact no more words formed. Instead, you were restrained to only being allowed to do weird hand motions. Oh god, how did you hate your own vulnerability and emotions.

You may be a skilled actress with superior command over each of your performances and personas, but you were still human. Like everyone else – maybe more than most, in your opinion – your inner emotions, thoughts, and worries you lacked control over. They were rampant and destructive, like a wild storm at sea, and you did not know how to keep them in check. To make matters worse, the storm always seemed to rage at the most unpredictable moments. And oh did you hate it. You hated it because you knew they left you exposed to everyone around you; you could be hurt by even those who had nothing but good intentions.

Nothing needed to be said, however. Hendery just smiled and pulled you into a loose embrace against his chest. You didn’t protest because admittedly you liked the feeling and this wasn’t out of the normal for the two of you. Being friends for so long, Hendery had seen you at almost all of your lowest points, and you’d seen him at his. Each time, you’d helped each other back to your feet and move past whatever obstacle had knocked you down. You quite liked the feeling of knowing that you had someone who would be there for you no matter what. But now that Hendery was leaving, were things still going to be the same?

“Ah, worried that you’re not going to be able to get into enough trouble without me,” he teased, still holding you close to him. You could practically hear the smile in his voice and it made your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can get into trouble without–”

“It’s not just that,” you cut him off abruptly, placing your hands against his chest to step back slightly. You were so focused on the torrent of emotions in your chest and trying to control your heartbeat that you failed to notice Hendery change his embrace, and his hands rested gently on your waist.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Do I really have the guts to tell him? You wondered to yourself. This question, again... It just loved to irritate you and invade your conscious at all the wrong times. “Yeah,” you let out a slightly shaky breath and refused to meet Hendery’s concerned yet curious eyes. “You know, you’re my best friend and I’m just a bit sad that you’re moving away from here,” you explained. Well, while it wasn’t the full truth, it wasn’t a lie either. While you were proud and ecstatic that Hendery was finally achieving a once-in-a-life-time opportunity, selfishly you were still upset to see your best friend go. Things were always like this; you could never fully express what you wanted to. Maybe being an actress and portraying fake personas was the only thing you were good at. Because while you immersed yourself in make-believe personalities and struggles, you failed time and time again to figure out your own troubles and express your own desires.

Of course, I don’t have the guts to tell him…

“You’re not going to get rid of me so easily,” Hendery clicked his tongue, almost as if he was scolding you. “I’m afraid to say,” he lifted up a hand close to your face, “you’re stuck with me,” he booped your nose. You stepped back a bit further in surprise, and Hendery’s grip on you disappeared. For a moment it seemed that something flashed across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Hendery quickly walked over to his computer on the desk and began to rummage through the papers, looking for his keys. As he rummaged, your eyes skimmed over all of the photos on his bulletin board. It brought a bittersweet smile to your face as you spotted several of the two of you. All of them were happy and joyous memories, but each one left a faint bitter taste in your mouth, like a splash of lemon, as they reminded you that such times may not be possible in the future. You rubbed your arms softly as you gazed at one of the photos, in which you were both smiling brightly at the camera behind massive cat-eyed sunglasses and frilly scarves. A few months ago Hendery had taken you to visit one of his friends in Hong Kong. His friend threw a small party and there had been a massive prop box next to a photo booth. Being the ridiculous duo that you were, you’d spent over half an hour taking dramatic photos together in a photo booth with a wide variety of accessories.

“Y/n, are you sure this is a good idea? Your parents think that you are behaving yourself, and what if a photo of their intoxicated daughter gets out onto the internet.”

“Yo, easy solution – the bigger my sunglasses and hat are, the less likely my parents will recognize me.”

The memory forced a smile onto your face, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, which were clouded with a layer of sadness. Like all good things, nothing this good could last forever, surely. This really was your last night with your best friend, but it was still nice that he was taking time out of his schedule to spend it with you. That had to count for something, right?

Beneath the billboard, you spotted a yellow envelope. There was nothing that unique about it but something about the small item still called to you. You found yourself reaching for it, only for Hendery to snatch it away.

“Hey, what was that for?” You exclaimed, pouting.

“Some things are not meant for strange, prying eyes, you know,” he explained as he tucked the card into his jeans’ pocket.

“You’re not going to let me see?”

His expression wavered for a moment from one of teasing disapproval to slight remorse. “Well, maybe later, but not right now.” Then he went back to looking for his keys, as you stood by and watched.

“Okay, I got them!” Hendery exclaimed, holding up his keys. He pulled his red jacket off the back of the chair and began to put it on. “Are you ready to go to the Thai place?” His question drew you out of your trance.

“Huh?” Your eyes whipped back to his half-packed suitcase and scattered clothes on the floor. “But aren’t you in the middle of packing? Don’t you want to finish before we go out?” You quizzed, turning back in Hendery’s direction.

He just shrugged and twirled the keys around his fingers. “Well it’s clear that I’m going to get nothing done with you around, so I’ll just finish after dinner,” he explained. Before you could take a step toward the door, Hendery had moved behind you and began pushing you toward the exit. “Now come on,” he persuaded with a soft smile. “Let’s go since it’s just going to get busier and I have to sleep before my flight tomorrow.” He paused after the sentence, and you turned back to look at him. He had a strange look on his face like he was thinking about something worrying, something personal. You wondered just what was going on inside his mind. But before you could ask, he cut you off.

“Do you still want to come to the airport tomorrow with me?” He asked, but the questioned wavered with uncertainty almost like he was afraid you were going to say no.

“Yes, of course, I’m coming” you reassured, pulling your signature half-smile back into place. “How could you think that I’d let you leave without saying goodbye. I’m bringing a massive poster and everything,” you trailed off with a small laugh.

Both of you knew that you were joking about the poster, but your reassurance seemed to bring some relief to Hendery. A small smile reappeared on his face and the creases of stress began to ebb away. “Okay, good,” he replied quietly and you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or more to himself.

Why did it have to be so hard to tell him how you actually felt? Every time you mustered up what little actual courage you had and faced him with the intention of coming clean, your voice always failed and your emotions broke the dam that was supposed to keep them secure. Each time the world seemed to shake and it felt as if the sky was going to come crashing down. It was just a few simple words, just the honest truth. So why was the truth the hardest thing for you to say to him? You weren’t sure if it was because you were afraid to admit it or you were just incapable of coherent and adult conversation. While you were a skilled actress, you never had been good with personal things, and especially formulating your words. If you had any control over these feelings you would banish them because to you there really was nothing more tragically cliche than this.

Hendery took you by the wrist and began to tug you down the hallway after him, saying: “if you’re going to be this slow, then I guess I’ll just have to drag you to the restaurant.” Your heart jumped slightly at the action and that strange feeling that you hated so much somersaulted in your gut.

“Hey, you could act a bit more chivalrous,” you called out to him as you both burst out the front door into the busy, bustling night of Macau. All you got in return, however, was his usual laugh. Nevertheless, you still smiled.

Yes, there was nothing more tragic – tragically comedic? – than realizing that you were in love with your best friend, a best friend who was destined for great things that didn’t involve you. What a classic cliche modern tragedy.

•••

The loud bass of the club music was just a blurred hum in your ears; dimmed red and blue flashing lights danced across every inch of your figure and every bottle of alcohol that you were currently eyeing up from your barstool. There was something so tempting about alcohol; it was alluring and welcoming, but still dangerous and extremely destructive. Hah, it’s just like love, you realized. Your e/c eyes skimmed over each label with an intense focus as if analyzing something forbidden that you would never see again.

Lifting your glass, you downed the last of your drink. While it burned the back of your throat ever so slightly, you enjoyed even more the feelings of lightness and peace that the drink inflicted on you. You felt as if you were floating, as if the weight of all your responsibilities, worries, and unanswered questions had suddenly disappeared from your shoulders. You knew that it was only a temporary feeling paired with an unhealthy habit, but the sensation of freedom was still nice and you welcomed it.

You dropped your glass and beckoned to the waiter with your hand, immediately gaining his attention. “Yo, Eric, can I get another glass please,” you called out to him.

“No, actually she’s had enough for right now! Thank you, Eric,” Hendery spoke up next to you, dismissing the waiter. Eric, the bartender, lingered for a few seconds in confusion before several other young adults waved him over to take their orders. Meanwhile, Hendery stealthily moved your empty glass away from you.

You groaned and turned to look at him in your slightly drunken stupor. You pouted out your lower lip, slumping down on the bar. “Aw, and here I thought you were going to be more fun tonight,” you complained slowly. Spotting your drink in his hand you tried to steal it back, but Hendery just moved it farther with apparent ease. “Heeeenderrry, pleeease,” you whined, trying to reach for the glass. “I swear, I’m, like, totally fine right now. I–”

“Nuh-uh,” Hendery just shook his head and turned on his barstool to face you. “No more drinks for you, at least not for now,” he declared loudly over the beat of the music with a tone of authority. You just groaned and rolled your eyes in protest as he patted your back gently.

God, why was he always like this, so attentive, cautious, and caring? He was acting like a responsible older brother, keeping a careful eye on their more reckless younger sibling. You weren’t sure for which reason you hated his behavior more, because a destructive part of you wanted to get absolutely obliterated tonight or because he probably saw you as a sister, and you clearly didn’t see him the same way. Maybe – definitely – it was a combination of both factors.

You weren’t sure how long you had been zoning out, but you were suddenly brought back to reality by Hendery snapping his fingers in front of your face. You didn’t lift your head from the bar but shifted to look up at his face. “Do you want to do something or stay here and recover,” you think you heard him ask, but it was so loud in the club that you weren’t certain if you’d actually heard him or not. Maybe in hindsight, those three drinks hadn’t been the best idea. Hendery was still watching you with a mildly concerned expression, so you smiled at him through your drunk giggles. The pulsing lights decorated each angle and crevice of his face and neck, painting him like an abstract canvas. Maybe it was partially due to your tipsy state, but you remembered thinking about how special and handsome he looked in that particular moment.

Do you want to do something? The question echoed in the back of your mind, and you smiled slightly even though it was meant for yourself. If I was more capable of handling my emotions, I’d kiss you and tell you how I really felt, you idiot. But of course, you couldn’t. A part of you twinged with regret that you still couldn’t admit your honest feelings even in such a state. Weren’t people supposed to be at their boldest and most honest while drunk? Well, perhaps it didn’t matter. After all, you were with each other right now, and you both should make the most of your experience. That was good enough for you.

Slinking off your barstool with a drunk smile, you took him by the hands, pulling him along with you toward the raging dance floor. “Come on,” you called, looking back at him through hazy eyes. “Let’s go dance!”

•••

“Y/n, I have something really important that I want to tell you.” You never found out what Hendery wanted to tell you because you both got swept away by the dancefloor.

You couldn’t recall everything that happened on the dancefloor. You just remembered how loud and packed it was with young adults in similar if not more drunken states. The music had just been a blur in your ears as you moved your body to the rhythm. One thing you did remember though was holding on to Hendery’s hand the entire time to make sure that you wouldn’t get separated in the massive crowd of chaos. And as you smiled and danced next to him, he’d smiled and danced along too. For a second, everything felt normal; it was like you were the only two people on the dance floor, and the world didn’t exist around you; it had been almost the perfect reality, and you had wanted to live in that moment forever.

But then some other drunk accidentally spilled his drink all over your shirt, ruining the illusion. Like any good friend, Hendery had quickly pulled you off the dance floor toward the restrooms. There he insisted that you change into his jacket because there was no way he was going to take you home looking like that. Even drunk, you reasoned that it was better to not show up at your home smelling of alcohol so you accepted his offer.

I really do look like a hot mess right now, you mused to yourself as you tried to wipe away the smears of alcohol off your skin with a wet paper towel. You were aware that there was no feasible way that you were going to clean this all off, but at least Hendery had given you his jacket. Pushing your hair back, you zipped up the red jacket and stared at your reflection in the mirror. Well, at least you looked a bit more put together now. Behind the sharp smell of sweat and alcohol, the jacket smelled like him. Your eyes widened slightly. Whoa, hold on, now that you thought about it, wasn’t this something that boyfriends did with their girlfriends? Oh my god. At the realization, that familiar untamed feeling backflipped in your stomach, and you immediately shouted at the feeling to dissipate.

You shoved open the door to see Hendery standing against the wall in his white tank top, waiting for you. He straightened up as he spotted you exit, and for a second it looked as if he’d lost his breath. But you’d shared clothes many times before, so why was he acting this way now? It was a bit weird, but you quickly dismissed it and walked over to him.

The two of you walked outside and were greeted by the cool night air. While the night was still alive with rushing cars and bustling people, you felt a sense of peace. “Do you want to go home?” Hendery asked.

A smirk crawled onto your lips as you eyed him. “Trying to get rid of me already, huh,” you teased, laughing and punching his shoulder lightly.

“I didn’t mean it like–”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” you replied, tacking on, “let’s walk to the waterfront at least and then we can finally head back home.” Let’s just make this night as long as possible. After all, it would be your last one together for a while.

You and Hendery walked up the street, side by side, taking in all of the night festivities. Sign lights blinked, cars honked, and people bustled along the streets. You talked some, bringing up old funny and sentimental memories. While they were all sweet memories, there was now a certain bitterness to them as the reality of your situation hit you: you were scared of losing your best friend. You knew that in actuality you weren’t losing him, but the possibility of such a thing still terrified you. While the night brought a sense of peace, the storm inside your gut continued to rage, growing more vicious with each passing moment. Calm on the outside, everything was a whirlwind just beneath the skin. You only hoped that these feelings would dissipate.

But they didn’t.

And as you neared the waterfront, the dam containing your emotions broke and you lost control. Stopping in your walk, you drew in a shaky breath and Hendery turned to face you, seeming slightly concerned.

“Is everything ok–” he began to ask, but you cut him off before he could get a full sentence out.

“I–Hendery,” your words had become like putty in your mouth, intangible and incomprehensible. You could feel your heart beat rapidly in your throat, but even that wasn’t enough to stop the words coming out of your mouth. “I–ha, you know, like, I’m bad with words, but I-uh, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What?” he replies just above a whisper, and the bewildered tone matched perfectly with how you were feeling on the inside. The way he said it though leaves you confused as to whether he didn’t understand what you had just said or was in shock because of that. But none of that mattered at the moment.

Feeling like a puppet in your own skin, you took a few steps toward him until you were standing right in front of him. You tilted your chin to look up at him, and the second you met his eyes you realized that he had his own storm raging inside of him. The look in his eyes revealed that a million thoughts and questions seemed to be rushing through his mind, but you couldn’t understand a single one of them. Your mind was elsewhere.

I’m such a hot mess, a rational realization surfaced in your mind that was still spinning at a hundred miles an hour. Yes, maybe you were a hot mess, but at least you were an honest one. You accepted the fact that you were scared of losing your connection with one of the people who mattered most to you, and you resented that you hadn’t been fully honest with him about your true feelings. And like people say, there is no time like the present; aided by the effects of alcohol, you reasoned that this was the best opportunity you were going to get to be open.

“You idiot,” you whispered as hot liquid built up in the corners of your eyes. You jabbed your finger into his chest. “D-don’t you see that I like you.”

You weren’t sure who acted first, whether you kissed him or he kissed you, but it happened. It was a soft and short kiss, but despite that you could feel the depth and emotions of affection and long-time longing behind the action. It was when you pulled away that the embarrassment of the situation finally hit your finally sobering mind.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry,” you pulled back and your hands flew to your face. While a large part of you was relieved that you had finally come clean, another part of you was burning with embarrassment. “I don’t know what overcame me. I just–you know–ha ha,” your explanation was no more coherent than your earlier statement, and you laughed half-joylessly half-embarrassed as you wiped a tear from your eye.

Only once your mind and gut began to calm down did you look up. Hendery was still watching you, and when you met his eyes this time you felt calm. It was strange because usually you felt the frantic wings of butterflies almost every time you were with him, but now that feeling was replaced by serenity. You weren’t sure why this was, but you weren’t sure you wanted to understand either.

“Oh, come here,” Hendery cut off your babbling by pulling you into an embrace up against his chest. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you didn’t resist. Rather, your body seemed to instinctively relax into the embrace. “I really like you, too,” he mumbled against the top of your head.

Like usual, your words failed you, and you weren’t sure how to respond so you just reciprocated the hug. Actions seemed to speak louder than words because as you stood there intertwined everything became clear; all your uncertainties disappeared, and your mind felt clear. You knew exactly what he meant, and he understood you.

After some time you began to speak again. “I would never guess you could love a mess like me,” you admitted, still smiling as you drew away from him. You both continued walking toward the approaching waterfront, but this time your fingers were just barely hooked around each other.

“Maybe I’m just drawn to destruction,” Hendery chuckled lightly at the comment. “You’re like a tornado, but a very cute and lovable tornado.”

That might have been the strangest compliment you’d ever received, but it still brought a large smile to your face and made sparks ignite in your chest.

You approached the waterfront and stared out at the open darkness. On the other side of the water, you could make out the lights aligning buildings, shops, and bridges against the night sky. You both used to spend a lot of time down by the waterfront together when you were younger. It felt sentimental coming back to it after all this time, but there was also a sense of closure.

“Um, I know you think you’re the only one bad with words here,” Hendery started, “but I’m pretty bad myself.” That caused you to turn and look at him. He looked a bit nervous, but there was still a small smile on his face, which let you know that everything was okay. Before you could ask what he meant by that, he pulled out the small yellow envelope from his pocket. It was the same one that you’d tried to pick up from his desk earlier that evening.

Hendery eyed it for a few seconds before he moved it in your direction. “I was going to give this to you later and tell you not to read it until after I left, but I guess that after this then it isn’t that important,” he explained as you took the envelope from him.

“What’s in it?” You asked without looking up.

“A few photographs and a letter...where I say I love you,” he admitted in an almost timid manner. He looked almost like a young boy shyly confessing to his crush, how cute.

You opened up the envelope and pulled out of the photographs. Another wide smile immediately manifested itself on your face as you looked down at one of the photos. You were both smiling widely at the camera in summer clothing as the waterfront rested just behind the two of you. Gosh, you both looked so young. You remembered this day. It was after your first day of high school, and you and Hendery had set off down by the waterfront to talk about your first impressions of the school and all the teachers. Now that you thought about it, you were standing in the exact same spot as that day.

Turning to Hendery, you declared excitedly, “let’s take a photo together!”

“Right now? In the dark?” He questioned, seeming confused.

You rolled your eyes and placed your hands on your hips. “Come on, it’s our last night together and I want it to be special with you. We might as well take a second to memorialize the moment,” you suggested, quickly adding, “plus, phones’ cameras have a flash on it.”

Hendery looked like he was thinking about it for a second before nodding his head in agreement and smiling. Excited, you quickly moved over next to him. Hendery smiled at your excitement and wrapped an arm around your waist, as you both looked up into the camera that you held. Behind you, the city lights reflected off the dark water. Just as you went to click the button, you felt Hendery kiss your cheek. You visibly blushed and couldn’t force away the smile on your face. You hoped that the camera captured the moment.

Yet, when you brought the phone close for your viewing, only the home screen greeted you. Wait, what?

“The app crashed!” You exclaimed in shock.

“See this is why you didn’t major in film and photography,” Hendery teased next to you, giving you a slight squeeze. “You don’t know how to operate a camera properly. We really need to buy you some professional lessons.” You knew that his teasing was all in good spirit.

“You think this is all my fault,” you gasped, turning on him. Waving your arms, you declared, “I take one photo of you and the camera breaks! You’re obviously cursed.”

“Only because I let myself be around you,” he replies as he pulls you into another embrace. You weren’t sure what would happen now or what would become of you in the future, but you were satisfied with the present and that is what mattered most at the moment. You knew that you were a bit of a mess, but that was okay because Hendery and others seemed to love that about you. And sometimes messes were necessary because you would not be able to discover things without cleaning them up. Because while your heart may have been a mess, at least it was an honest one.

“Looks like I’m going to have to hire the best security at my concerts, hmm.”

You smiled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

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