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hunnylagoon · 5 months

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Wayfaring Stranger

PREMISE: After your husband refuses to check a concerning sound outside, you do it yourself only to find a beautiful stranger bloodied up on the beaten road beneath moonlight. The events that follow soon after turn your once quiet world on its head.

DISCONTINUED

A/N: Forgive me if there are typos or confusing sentences. I was high asf writing this and I am high asf posting this. I have a series outline posted on my page right before this post, idk how link it, I’ll figure it out sometime. I’m releasing another Ellie fic tomorrow, it’s a modern AU and will be two parts. As always, thanks for reading!

WARNING: Murder, mentions of violence and injuries

The night hung heavy over the isolated homestead, a sea of inky darkness punctuated only by the sparse glow of stars scattered across the expansive canvas of the western sky. You, wrapped in a weathered shawl, stepped cautiously onto the creaking wood floorboards leading to your bedroom window. The pristine planks groaned under the subtle weight of your movement, echoing through the stillness of the night. "Sawyer, did you hear that?" You ask, turning your head to look at your husband who lay with his back to you, His blonde curls falling upon the satin pillowcases. "Sawyer!" You hiss, trying to capture his attention.

"It's just some cattle," He dismissed, not bothering to look at you; in fact, he pulled the covers even farther up his figure to conceal himself from you.

"Can you go look?"

"Why would I do that?" He groaned, it was a genuine question. He couldn't figure out why you would want to investigate a concerning sound.

"Because it sounded like gunshots and screaming, someone could be hurt!"

"All the more reason to stay inside."

"Well, I'm going to go see what it is if you refuse to." You spat, grabbing the oil lamp from the bedside stand and using your shawl to clear it of debris. You swipe a match across its box, watching it ignite, small sparks dancing around your fingertips. You move the match to light the exposed part of the wick before blowing it out and discarding it on the spruce floors.

"Okay, don't get hurt," He said flat, nuzzling back into the feather pillows.

A solitary oil lamp, its flame shifting with every step, cast feeble shadows that clung to the edges of the wall like silent sentinels. Under the flickering light, you made your way down the stairs and slipped on a pair of worn leather boots, dusty from the day's toil. As your boots met the uneven wooden surface of the porch, you shivered, you hadn't anticipated just how cold it would be.

The air was crisp, carrying the scent of sagebrush and the distant whispers of the unseen nocturnal creatures that inhabited the wilderness. A coyote's distant howl painted the night with an eerie soundtrack, a reminder that the untamed landscape surrounding your home was both beautiful and treacherous.

As you descended the porch steps, your eyes, accustomed to the darkness, scanned the horizon. The landscape unfolded before you in nothing but shadows and silhouettes, the distant outlines of distant hills and mesas barely visible beneath the cosmic tableau above. The isolation of your homestead, far removed from the flickering lights of the town, cocooned you in an otherworldly silence, a solitude that carried the weight of the untamed frontier.

You looked back towards your home as you moved down the dirt road; weathered limestone walls, adorned with ornate ironwork, bore witness to years of harsh sun, and dust storms, though the relentless passage of time wasn't easy to spot as Sawyer had constant maintenance on it. Standing proudly against the dark backdrop of endless prairie, the mansion's presence was a testament to opulence in the rugged west. The home sat on the top of a hill, the trip down being somewhat steep, though the main path was easy to trek, other ways down would send you tumbling.

A soft breeze rustled through the grass dunes, creating a gentle whistle that you liked to believe carried every secret ever whispered in the town.

With a deep breath, you ventured beyond the perimeter of the homestead, your silhouette becoming one with the night. The crunch of your footsteps on the gravel path echoed faintly, a lullaby for the wilderness that watched over you. You move with hesitation, trying to consider that your husband may be right and you should've ignored the clash and tucked yourself back into the king-sized bed, despite this, you keep moving, leaving only the echoes of your presence behind.

You were surrounded by almost nothing but darkness, you could only see the shapes of rocks and cacti reflecting the moonlight along with whatever was immediately around you, thanks to the shine of the oil lamp.

Writhing in the rocky dirt path you saw a figure. It hadn't been an animal or an article of clothing that somehow found its way to you, it had been the slender silhouette of a person, just as you suspected, someone was hurt. As you carefully approached you could hear their shaky breathes that made you sure it was a woman. Her chest rose and sunk as she shuddered in the cold air; she was soaked through with blood, you had never seen someone in worse shape. "Ma'am?" You ask, your heartbeat speeding up. She looked visibly startled, trying to grip the ground and crawl away from you out of fear. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, I can help you." Your eyebrows furrowed in skepticism at the sight before you.

"No," She shook her head, the woman could hardly get words out of her mouth, just ragged breaths.

"You're shivering," You slowly crouched down, gingerly sitting her up, she winced in pain when you did so "I'm sorry," You hooked an arm around her waist while she slid an arm behind your shoulders, she used her other arm to clutch at a wound in her stomach, you ignored your shaking at her additional weight leaning against your own, you just had to get her up the hill. "SAWYER!" You shouted as loud as your lungs allowed you "SAWYER!" You screamed again, waiting for your husband to be standing on the porch.

You hauled the woman to your porch just as Sawyer finally emerged "What do you- WHAT IS HAPPENING!" His annoyance quickly turned to panic when he saw who was clinging onto you, behind him the door was hanging open letting the light from the foyer break apart some of the darkness. In the light other than the moon you finally got a better look at her. You couldn't even tell what colour her hair was beneath the blood matting it to her head, streaks of red ran down her freckled face and soaked almost every inch of clothing she adorned.

"Ride into town, get the doctor and bring him back here." You ordered, pushing past him, into the living room where you laid her gingerly onto the white gold crested sofa, feeling relief of the added weight gone.

"Well, there goes my coach-

"Sawyer!" You yell again, urging him to leave, he finally does, slamming the door behind him. You run around, hastily lighting candles to brighten the room; you bring a bucket of clean water to her side, drenching a rag in the water, you bring it to her face and begin to wipe away the blood. You noticed her shudder at the touch of cold water on her raw flesh "It's okay," You muttered, in an attempt to comfort her. You weren't quite sure what to say, she must've been terrified but it's not like you were feeling okay with the whole situation, you just didn't want to worsen anything.

More than anything, you wanted to know what had happened to this woman. Of course, you weren't going to ask at that moment, you didn't have to ask though, it's like she read your mind.

"I'm, Ellie," She said between ragged heaves. Just when you were beginning to make up your own backstory for the wayfaring stranger. The picture you had formed in your mind was that her name was Maybelle and she had taken a loan from a gang, and gotten herself into some serious trouble. Nope. Her name was Ellie and what was most logical was that she had been robbed by bandits.

You smile softly, trying to put her at ease. You thought back to all of the ways your mother used to calm you and your little sister "Well, Ellie, doctors gonna be here any minute and you'll be stitched up, good."

Ellie could've sworn that she made you up inside her head. She had heard stories of people on the brink of death imagining an angel guiding them to security just to be told when they recovered that person never existed. She was sure that she would get some rest and would wake up in some clinic with you nowhere to be found. You looked like an angel too, features illuminated in the soft candlelight. "Are you real?"

Her words had you thinking she was ebbing closer to the brink of death, blood loss making her woozy. "I sure am," You said, indulging her "I can tell from your accent that you're from as far west as west goes."

"That you would be right about, ma'am," She smiled with half-lidded eyes, her head lulling back and forth from the spot it rested on the sofa arm.

You soaked the cloth again, wringing it out in the bucket, the once clear water already becoming a foggy reddish hue. You used your free hand to push hair away from Ellie's face, with your other hand you held the cloth and gently wiped the blood from her forehead, clearing the way for you to see more of her freckles. "There we go," You moved your free hand to the back of her head to support it, now using the rag to wash away at the grime on her cheeks and button nose. "I can finally see that pretty face."

"pretty," She murmured, eyelids fluttering.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls like ghostly spectres, and the air hung heavy with the metallic scent of blood. The wounded figure lay sprawled on the once pristine white sofa, the echo of a recent struggle still reverberating through the stillness. Moonlight filtered through tattered curtains, casting an eerie glow on the scene of desperation.

A crimson pool formed beneath Ellie, soaking into Sawyer's beloved couch. The rhythmic breathing echoed in the silence, a macabre lullaby that seemed to accompany the fading pulse of life. Ellie against the encroaching darkness, the battle for consciousness etched across a face pale and drawn.

Every breath was a laborious effort, a struggle against the body's betrayal. Her once vibrant eyes, now dull and distant, glistened with a mixture of pain and determination. Beads of sweat clung to a furrowed brow, evidence of the fevered fight within.

Trembling hands clutched at the wound, desperate to stem the relentless flow of a life's essence escaping through her fingers. Each heartbeat sent fresh waves of pain through the body, threatening to pull the fragile thread of consciousness even thinner. The air seemed to thicken with the weight of mortality, and every passing moment whispered of the inevitability of the abyss.

Amid this struggle, fragmented memories flickered like distant stars in a fading night sky. Faces and places, fragments of life now hanging in the balance, flashed before weary eyes. The pulse, once strong and steady, faltered like a distant drumbeat threatening to fade into silence.

Yet, amidst the darkness, a fierce will to survive burned like a defiant flame. The wounded soul summoned reserves of strength, drawing upon reserves untapped in ordinary times. Each laboured breath was a testament to an indomitable spirit, a refusal to yield to the encroaching void.

The room itself seemed to pulse with a quiet urgency, bearing witness to a solitary struggle against the inevitable. Shadows clung to the edges of consciousness, threatening to pull the wounded figure into an abyss from which there might be no return. She saw your lips moving but the words fell upon death ears, she couldn't make out whatever you were frantically telling her, all she knew was that she was tired and she couldn't fight to stay awake much longer.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Though Ellie had believed you to be an angel, you proved yourself to be real.

As the first rays of the Southern sun began to pierce through ornate curtains, casting a warm golden glow upon the opulent bedroom, she stirred beneath the layers of soft, embroidered linens. The mattress cradled her like a sanctuary, and the pillows plumped to perfection, offered a haven for dreams. The room itself exuded a rustic elegance, with intricately carved wooden furniture standing proudly against the walls adorned with rich tapestries. The air carried the subtle scent of cedar, a nod to the untamed wilderness just beyond the ornate windows. Lace curtains danced in the morning breeze, revealing a breathtaking view of the rolling hills and vast plains. The room, a luxurious oasis in the heart of the frontier, embraced her in a cocoon of comfort, providing a stark contrast to the rugged landscape outside. As she slowly opened her eyes, the lavish details of the room unfolded like a dream, and for a moment, she forgot about the events of the night before, until the throbbing pain of stitched wounds hit her once more.

Ellie was no longer in the drenched clothes from the previous night and was no longer nose-blinded by the sickly sweet stench of blood. Though she didn't remember everything from the night before, she remembered you

What had woken her up was the incredible smell filling whatever room she was in. Cast-iron fried bacon, its savoury perfume mingling with the tantalizing scent of freshly steeped tea that wafted through the air. The aroma of flapjacks, golden and perfectly griddled, hung thick, inviting all who caught wind of it to indulge in a culinary celebration of the morning.

A bounty of farm-fresh eggs scrambled to perfection, adorned the table alongside a bowl of vibrant, sun-ripened tomatoes and sliced avocados, their colours mirroring the vivid hues of the sunrise. A basket brimming with flaky biscuits, warm and buttery, beckoned with promises of melt-in-your-mouth goodness.

In the center of it all, a heaping pile of wild berries and succulent peaches offered a burst of sweetness, a reminder of nature's abundance even in the rugged expanse of the frontier. A jar of homemade preserves, bursting with the flavours of sun-ripened fruits, awaited its turn to grace the breakfast spread. All of it meticulously placed on the breakfast tray beside her.

She had never been blessed enough to get such a thoughtful breakfast, or meal, or anything for that matter. Ellie had grown up around ruffians who showed love through gunpowder and chewing tobacco.

Every bite tasted just as good as she had anticipated, most people wouldn't have thought it smart to eat a meal in a stranger's home that magically appeared to wake her up and maybe Ellie wasn't smart but she sure was hungry.

In the corridors, you hummed along to a song you used to sing on the piano when you were a girl while you rearranged and tidied bits and pieces of your shared home so everything was in its place. Your ears pricked up at the sound of rustling, it could have only been one thing. You knocked on the door of one of your guest rooms.

"Yeah?" She said through a mouthful of food.

You pushed the spruce door open, closing it behind you "Good mornin'," You smiled "Or afternoon, I suppose. Feelin' any better?"

She felt embarrassment well up in her throat, there you were looking so effortlessly stunning and she was a half-baked mess laying in one of your beds, swallowing back the food you slaved away to prepare. "Ma'am, I am so very sorry for imposin' on ya' last night, I will be out of your hair in no time."

"Stay as long as ya' need," You dismissed her "Truth be told, it gets a little lonely in this house, Sawyer goes away all day and when he's home he's too tired to speak, so it's just me."

She furrowed her eyebrows "You own a house this big and you haven't got a maid or servant or something?"

You shook your head "We used to have one but Sawyer fired her, said I needed some chores to keep me busy. We do have a stable boy, name's Jerry, nice kid just can't speak English all that well. He comes by a couple of days a week and has tea with me during his breaks. I won't keep ya' here if you don't want to though."

"I'd just feel too guilty eatin' your food and givin' you nothing," Didn’t seem guilty one minute ago. She moved the tray of food from its spot on her lap to the empty bedside table. She began to push the covers off of her, trying her best to ignore the ache in her bones. When her feet hit the ground she felt extreme agony course through her body like a million little knives swimming through her bloodstream. She crumbled over into herself on the ground.

You rushed over to help her back up "Easy," You say, your tone soft "You're hurt, remember?"

Ellie couldn't even stand on her own at that moment, her legs shook with each step she tried to take, you leading her gingerly. "Can't feel a thing," She lied through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure?"

"Nope, I need to sit back down," She said and you helped her to sit on the side of the cushioned bed. She couldn't remember feeling that weak for a very long time, not since she had been a child. Ellie almost wanted to laugh at how stupid she felt, needing you to help her take a few steps like she was elderly, instead, she looked up at you "How did I get so lucky as to have you take care of me?"

"Sometimes we just meet someone at the right time." You shrug. You were no longer able to bite back the question that had kept you up all night "If I may ask, what happened to you last night?"

She sighed, scootching herself back in the bed to get comfortable "I'm nothing more than a travelling merchant ya' see, last night while I was headed out of Palecliff, I was raided by a group of bandits, took my horse, my wagon, everything I've ever known gone in one night along with my dignity."

Your eyes went wide and you clasped a hand over your mouth "What did they look like?"

You had a million questions for her and you didn't waste time in showering her with them. It had been so long since you had someone to talk to, not your stoic husband, not a fourteen-year-old who didn't understand your language, but a woman your age who indulged your questions and laughed at your jokes, adding her witty remarks to them. When you married Sawyer it was like you were thrown into the life of someone you did not know, it went from sixteen-year-old you playing piano every night, serving food, chatting up locals to being isolated in a stark mansion on top of a hill, watching the ghost of what your life used to be from what felt like a cage. You were allowed to enter town once a month, beyond that you would sneak off to the creek and the far-off forest where there was no one to report to your husband, his father was the mayor so out of fear they would never keep their mouths shut.

It only made you ecstatic when Ellie had agreed to stay with the promise of doing house and stable work when she recovered to pay you back in whatever ways she could.

Mornings with Ellie began with the aroma of herbal tea and the comforting crackle of a wood-burning stove. You, now a dedicated caregiver, tended to the injured woman's wounds with gentle hands, your touch a balm for both body and soul.

Conversations flowed like the pages of a well-worn novel, each chapter revealing the layers of their respective histories. Shared laughter echoed through the homestead, a melody that resonated against the backdrop of the vast wild wind. In the quiet moments, as the injured woman gazed out of the window, she found peace in the sight of the rolling hills and endless skies.

Through the nuances of daily life—shared meals whispered confidences, and the unspoken understanding that transcended words—the two women became intertwined, bound to one another almost.

Sawyer wasn't fond of how his wife had come to spend her time. Something about the sound of her laughter echoing through the halls had angered him, knowing that he wasn't the one who made her laugh.

Sawyer, a figure of striking contradiction to his gentle and nurturing wife, cut a commanding presence beneath the harsh sunlight. His tousled locks, framed a face chiselled with the unforgiving lines of both nature and a life forged on the frontier. A mane of wheat-gold hair fell over piercing blue eyes, cold and calculating like the steel of a Colt revolver. His tall, lean form moved with the languid grace of a predator, exuding an effortless confidence that bordered on arrogance. Dressed in the finest of suits, Sawyer's appearance belied an innate cruelty that simmered beneath the surface. A well-defined jawline, framed by the hint of stubble, spoke of a man who had faced the harsh realities of the untamed West, and yet, it was the glint in his eyes that hinted at the darkness that mirrored the vast, shadowed canyons of the frontier. In the presence of Sawyer, the air seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension, a reminder that you belonged to him and him alone.

When Ellie had healed enough to hobble around the house and assist you with chores as well as join you and Sawyer at the dinner table, he had made sure to be vocal. "Ellie, I think you could ease up on the help a little as much as we appreciate it," He said across a table of food you spent hours preparing "I don't want my wife to forget to be grateful for the life that's been handed to her if she relaxes too much she just slips away into some progressive madness."

You look towards him, a subtle rage simmering inside of you "Sawyer, I'm not being ungrateful, I'm just tired from-

He raised a hand to stop your talking "I don't think we want those womanly emotions to get in the way, do we?"

You pushed yourself away from the table, slamming your serviette down and storming out.

Sawyer only chuckles at this, turning to look at Ellie who had found herself constantly having to bite her tongue around him "Just wait until she has children, she'll cry every day and make up even more things to complain about." Before Ellie, he had never felt such a sense of possession over you, typically he just treated you like an ornament.

All good things must come to an end and so they did; Ellie had healed almost completely after two months, the Southern winter had passed and spring was arriving. You both lied to yourself, pretending that it was still sensible for Ellie to be living in your house. You convinced her to let you take her to your favourite spot.

In the early embrace of spring, a hidden gem sat in the heart of nature—a beautiful creek that meandered through the landscape like a serpentine ribbon of liquid silver. The air, still sharp with the vestiges of winter, carried the invigorating scent of damp earth and awakening foliage. Along the banks, delicate shoots of vibrant green grass peeked through the remnants of melting snow, heralding the arrival of a season draped in renewal.

The creek itself murmured a gentle melody, a harmonious symphony composed by the bubbling riffles and the soft percussion of water cascading over smooth stones. The water, crystal clear and pure, reflected the azure canvas of the early spring sky, creating a mirror that captured the fleeting beauty of budding trees and the emerging wildflowers that lined the water's edge.

Beneath the surface, the creek harboured secrets—shimmering pebbles, polished by the tender caress of the water's passage, and tiny aquatic organisms that stirred with the promise of life. The sunlight filtered through the burgeoning leaves above, casting dappled patterns on the creek's surface like nature's stained glass adorning a cathedral of serenity.

On the banks, clusters of delicate wildflowers began to unfurl their petals, their hues ranging from the soft pastels of violets and blues to vivid bursts of yellow and pink, something you didn’t see much in the South. The air resonated with the hum of awakening insects, drawn by the allure of this watercourse oasis. Overhead, the first tentative flights of butterflies painted the air with ephemeral strokes of colour.

As the creek wound its way through the landscape, it carved miniature canyons and pools, inviting creatures to quench their thirst and revel in the burgeoning abundance of the season. The stones lining the creek bed, smoothed by centuries of flowing water, became stepping stones for adventurous critters and skipping stones for the whimsical heart.

The beauty of the early spring creek lay not just in its visual splendour, the soothing melody of flowing water, the caress of a gentle breeze, the fragrance of blossoming life, and the dance of sunlight playing upon its liquid surface. This pristine sanctuary embodied the very essence of renewal, inviting all who encountered it to immerse themselves in the sublime poetry of the changing seasons.

The pair of you just sat in silence, neither wanted to say what had to be said so you decided to drown beneath the weight of the words that went unsaid.

"I can't stay here anymore," Ellie said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She sat on the lush grass with her knees pulled into her chest. Her chestnut hair, the colour of fresh earth, cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, occasionally stirred by the whispering winds that danced across the plains. Almond-shaped hazel eyes, reminiscent of the vast prairie skies, held a depth that spoke of an untamed spirit. Ellie's sun-kissed complexion bore the subtle traces of a life lived under the relentless Western sun, and a scattering of freckles across her cheeks hinted at days spent amidst the open range. Clad in practical yet well-worn attire she had borrowed from you, her hands, calloused from the rigours of the mysterious life she lived before meeting you, spoke of a resilience that mirrored the vast landscapes she navigated. In the unforgiving wilderness, where strength and grace were as vital as the air one breathed.

"I know," You said back just as quietly, you both looked at the creek ahead of you, not able to meet each other's eyes.

"I don't want to leave you."

"I can't leave." You said, a newfound sense of sadness washing over you. It had just hit that you would return to the dull life you lived before her, days filled with nothing more than silence, loneliness, and regret.

"I wish you could," She picked at the grass, unsure of what to do with her hands.

Silence stretched between you like birds on a wire "Just stay, one more night and then I'll let you go for good, I won't pester you anymore."

She smiled softly "Sure, I'll stay another night."

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

You had left town at the crack of dawn that morning to gather supplies for Ellie before she left, and the night before you had babbled on and on to Sawyer about how excited you were for your plans before you turned in for the night. You had used the only day that month that you were permitted to leave to do something special for Ellie. After paying a brief visit to your father and sister you began the trek back up.

After you returned home from the short trip you had intended to go into the house and bundle up your goodies for Ellie but you had been detoured by a sound from the stable. You hadn't expected Jerry to be there, it was one of your days to man the stables, not his. Despite the confusion, you followed the crashes and bangs from the stables.

As you approached the stables, the familiar sounds of horses' hooves and distant howls of coyotes were overshadowed by an unfamiliar murmur and groan. A knot tightened in your stomach, foreboding lingering in the air like an impending storm. Pushing open the creaking door, your gaze fell upon a sight that froze her to the core.

In the muted light of the stable lanterns, you saw your husband, a man you slept beside every. night, entwined with another woman. The hay-strewn floor became an unwitting witness to the betrayal unfolding before your disbelieving eyes. The flickering lantern light cast shadows on their entangled forms, revealing a scene that would forever alter the course of your existence.

The air hung heavy with tension, the silence punctuated only by the stifled gasp that escaped your lips. The two figures, caught in an embrace that spoke of deceit, turned to face her with eyes filled with shock. The other woman, a fleeting presence in your life until this moment, bore the weight of her transgressions. Horror pushed tears from your eyes "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" You screamed, watching as the two shamefully and frantically dressed themselves.

"Can you blame me?" Sawyer buttoned up his trousers "You're always sad or angry around me, I love you, I just need a break sometimes-

"You make me feel that way!" You felt sick to your stomach like you were going to vomit "I have turned myself inside out trying to love you but I don't even like you!"

You could see your words hit him when his jaw began to tense up, the familiar tell that he would be raging soon "I don't even think you like me!"

"I don't!" You shout "I hate you I wake up every morning and I feel so empty when I have to look into those dull eyes of yours!"

"You won't even touch me."

"You only show me a sliver of kindness when you want your dick taken care of." You spat, the look of complete rage on his face made you smile; that was when he struck you. His backhand landed firmly on the side of your face, forcing you to stumble back, shuddering at the stinging sensation.

He put his hands up, trying to show you that he wouldn't hit you again "I'm sorry-

Before you could finish your sentence you were screaming, grabbing the shovel from its resting place on the stable wall and slamming it across his head. Sawyer didn't even stand for a moment, the second the shovel made contact with his head, he flopped to the ground. You audibly squeaked, watching blood ooze from the newly formed gash in his head.

"Sawyer?" You crouched down, poking at his limp body with the shovel to see if he would shift. Nothing. His eyes fell lifeless along with the rest of him. The shovel clattered to the ground as you brought both hands to cover your mouth.

You stood over his body, your actions registering in your head, you had killed him. You had taken the life of someone.

You were only snapped away from your thoughts when you heard a thud. Your head snapped to where the sound had come from, only to find the black-haired woman he was cheating on you with stumbling back up from her fall, she cast a look back at you, terror written across her pale face.

Feet moving faster than your mind, you ran after her, she had already got a good headstart on you. She was beginning to rush towards one of the steeper sides of the hill, you knew you wouldn't catch her in time; so instead of pursuing her, you grabbed the gun off the front porch and aimed it at the woman.

The metallic tang of gun oil hung in the air as you cradled the shotgun, the weight unfamiliar in your hands, you were only going off of what your father had shown you all those years ago. The overwhelming sun cast long shadows across the open range, painting the world in hues of amber and gold. With trepidation etched on her face, you squared your shoulders and took a deep breath. The gun felt cool against your trembling fingertips as she aimed at a distant woman. The tension in the air was palpable as you squeezed the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the vast expanse. The recoil startled you, and a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty danced in your eyes. At that moment, as the echoes of the shot reverberated through the silence of the frontier, you felt a seismic shift watching the raven-haired woman fall, now rolling down the hill.

Still gripping the shotgun, you ran over to the spot where you had seen the woman collapse.

When you bore down the hill, her body was nowhere to be found.

Your head shot up to search the plains for her but you didn't see a sign of where she had gone, aside from the small pool of blood, seeping into dead grass where she had initially fallen.

"What's wrong?" Ellie shouted, running over to where you stood, frozen in fear for what lay ahead of you "I heard a gunshot."

"Ellie I-" You were stiff where you stood, grasping the shotgun so tight that your knuckles had turned white "Sawyer was cheating on me in the stables and I saw him and I was just so mad that I-I hit him with a shovel, I didn't think he would die, I just wanted him to be as afraid of me as I was of him. That woman he was with, she saw me kill him so I shot her but she got away and now I'm good as dead."

Ellie didn't seem as mortified as you thought she would be, she took the shotgun away from you, slinging an arm around your waist with her free hand and guiding you back to the house "It's okay, not as bad as it could be, you took care of me now it's my turn to take care of you."

"It's not okay, I'm gonna be strung up at the gallows in front of everyone, I killed the mayors son." A breath hitched in your throat "My dad's gonna watch me hang."

"Only if they catch us," Ellie said nonchalantly, steering you up the porch "Pack what you need, we'll be out of here in no time. It only feels fair to tell you now that I’m not actually a travelling merchant.”

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verysmallcyborg · 21 days

Text

Fornax Val'ethtue

B A S I C S

Name: Fornax Val'ethtue (or Fyrstyrn [fire star] Dotharl, when thinking of the two naming conventions)

Nicknames: They don't have much nicknames, however friends that know Fornax well enough can call them "Lily" (Delmira especially calls them that, this is because of their association with the flower), otherwise only Ryss gets to call her sea puppy or treasure

Age: 37 (by Endwalker)

Nameday: 5th Sun of the 1st Umbral Moon

Race: Sea Wolf Roegadyn + Xaela Au Ra (au roe, if you will. tehe)

Gender: Non-binary Butch (she/they)

Orientation: Lesbian

Profession: Outside of WoL responsibilities... bodyguard and marksman

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Black with a bunch of grey hairs. If it's short, it's spiky and either has the sides and the lower back of it shaved down, or they have their sideburns. If it's longer, then it's generally messy and uneven with a "wild" look.

Eyes: Black sclera, slit pupils, and vibrant orange. Fornax's eyes only glow because their dad taught them how to apply limbal rings when she was young, but never learned how to accurately do it (or when to stop doing it, until there was a full glow) after his death.

Skin: Dark grey, has a black gradient starting at their forearms and goes all the way to their hands. Has a fair amount of scales, though some are broken and ripped off around scars.

Tattoos/scars: Decorated in scars all over their face and body, but the most notable ones are on their face, neck, and torso. Some of her face scars are from saving a coeurl kit from hunters, and briefly got mauled by its mother when returning it (they understood the protective instinct, but OUCH). The scars across their neck and chest was an incident that put them at deaths door, and then a large scar on their side is from... WELL. Ryss. :) Don't worry about it :)

Very important: their top scars!! Those tits: chopped off. Also the end of their tail (that doesn't have the top layer of thick scales) has a bite scar from the Major-General, no one believes them when they say a tiny shark with tiny legs bit them while fishing.

Fornax has a very subtle trail of faint orange stars on their back for a tattoo!

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unnamed Roegadyn mother & Xaela father. Her mom was a traveling merchant of sorts, while her dad was part of the Dotharl clan. Unfortunately, both were murdered while Fornax was young... :')

Siblings: No siblings

Grandparents: N/A (I don't think that far with family LOL)

In-laws and Other: No idea about in-laws, but for other: their lovely spouse, Ryssrael!!! :)

Pets: Befriends every stray and animal that they cross, but specifically, they have a little black coeurl and a baby amaro that follow them around.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Very skilled with a rifle and axes of any kind (WAR/MCH combo), though they are in their best element when within melee range. Weaponizes their teeth, claws, and tail as often as they can, and wields terrifying, brutal strength that amplifies when angered or under a need to win and/or survive. Best not to piss off a butch who could pull an entire ship with just them and their partner!!

Hobbies: LOVES cooking and all kinds of hands-on crafts, but specifically knitting and crocheting.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Their unwavering determination

Most Negative Trait: Has a self-destructive habit of fleeing and attempting to isolate themselves when hurt

L I K E S

Colors: Most warm colors, baby blue, black, and purple

Smells: Burning firewood, ocean breezes on the sunrise/sunset, the stinging metallic scent of blood, flowers in a field, freshly cooked food (especially stews and bread)

Textures: The subtle raised skin of old scars, the wool off of freshly sheared karakuls, tree bark, warm hands against their scales, horns, and tail

Drinks: Apple cider, hot chocolate, fruity beverages

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not really, unless offered

Drinks: Only in good company/socially

Drugs: Recreationally? Maybe, otherwise nah

Mount Issuance: Still has their red chocobo (HEH...) but he spends his days sleeping and chilling in the garden of their yard. Nowadays they use a comically tiny airship.

Been Arrested: Several times by the Maelstrom and Flames, mostly when they were a teenager & young adult because of petty thefts and getting in trouble for some of the jobs they took on to scrape by. Fornax has gotten significantly better at escaping and hiding though, which is kinda funny when you wonder, how does anyone lose a 8ft/244cm tall au roe with a big ole tail?

Tagged by @hazelkjt and @cindernet-explorer!!! thank you <3

UHHHHHH i've seen most folks i follow be tagged already, so i'm pointing at the viewer. Your Turn

#fornax #hehe i love when i get to spill some lil lore tidbits of them!!!!#i need to redo their carrd and refsheet since it's canon that them and ryss are in each others lore....... hurgh

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cyberball · 8 months

Text

cair paraval

caspian x reader / no pronouns used / not rq

warnings: a couple swears, physical touch (as in not 18+ but still), mention of the word 'dress' but you can interpret that as any type of dress really

summary: you decide to reminisce on a select few memories of the beach at cair paraval in your room, one morning.

genre: yes it is fluffy but there's some slow burn/yearning thing going on, allusion to a modern!au in narnia, although u can assume it’s the same

notes: cyberball comeback! *crickets* anyway this is my highest word count thus far. ben barnes is actually fatal cuz now I'm obsessed with a character from my CHILDHOOD who I completely forgot even existed. alas, here we are, because caspian is a very very close second to Leo valdez, and I'm head over heels for that man. all this is to say, this will probably not be the last caspian fic and who knows, maybe I'll figure sth out for peter n ed as well!!! anyway enjoy i hope u like it

11:03 | 2896 words

11:45 AM

The spring breeze brushes against your face, and your eyes close in appreciation. From your balcony, the beach of Cair Paraval looks stunning; clear blue waters and a high tide to match. You let your thoughts linger on all the nights you’ve spent on said beach with a certain king of Narnia. You almost get up to try to find him, but you sit back down, realizing he must be busy. Your memories will have to sustain you for now.

4:23 AM – 1 month ago

Caspian’s hand came up to brush his hair out of his face for what seemed like the hundredth time that night – the sea breeze was relentless. You silently laughed at his efforts, as he leaned back into you, having given up on trying to tame his hair. His tall frame had somehow managed to sit snugly in between your legs, Caspian’s head resting on your chest. You were leaning against an enormous oak tree, the leaves swaying in tandem with the wind.

“Get up, you big goof,” you said, rolling your nightshirt’s sleeves up, determined to help him with his hair. He looked back at you for just a second before obeying your command. You loved his hair either way but you could tell it was annoying him right about now.

“What, you don’t like the unruly look my hair has taken on?” He asked, sitting up properly. You shook your head in amusement and looked away under his glance, pretending to look around for the clip you always kept on you, in case a predicament like this arose.

You gathered a little of his hair and tied it in place with the clip, letting a few pieces in the front fall out. The half-up-half-down look was his and your favorite.

He rested his head back onto your shoulder, looking ahead, the two of you still sitting. You had a ritual wherein you took one night each week to watch the sunrise. Now, even as the sun slowly woke up, the Narnian night sky glittered with tens of stars, and you wished you could look into his eyes. The black always reflected the light perfectly.

You two had been dating for about 2 weeks now. Caspian was your best friend and the person you trusted the most. Back when all you could think of on nights like these was your imagination of what it would feel like to have his lips against yours, looking into his eyes was a gesture far too intimate for two friends to share.

But now that it was a reality, you moved him off your shoulder and moved forward, so now you were facing him. On instinct, he picked you up by your thighs and placed you on his lap. Giggling, you took his stubble-covered face in your hands. After staring into your eyes for a length of time most people would find uncomfortable, he looked up at the sky. And there it was; the sky condensed into his eyes. He looked back up at you, and you couldn’t help but kiss him. You wondered how you ever lived without knowing the taste of his lips.

5:09 PM – 3 months ago

The sun filtered through your hair as you managed to push through it. It was setting, and the horizon looked particularly capturing today; pink and orange clouds shielding its light. Speaking of the sun, unbeknownst to you, yours had come up behind the spot you had claimed on the sand. Placing a kiss on your head – and consequently making butterflies fly around in your stomach – Caspian took the place next to you, as he often did.

More often, he’d only made rare appearances in your solitude, as the mantle of being king had taken its toll on his free time. You had found yourself reminiscing on the time when every other free second you both had, you would spend with each other. You would train together as well, and while that hadn’t necessarily stopped, he had significantly less time to do so. So you missed it, and you missed the close contact, where you could pass off the hitched breaths and stuttering glances as something other than what they were.

Caspian was your best friend. Nothing more, although you found yourself coveting the same. You don’t quite remember when it changed; when the way you looked at him turned from friendly appreciation to lingering on his smile. You felt that maybe he felt the same when he’d make you laugh and then drink in your reaction; when you showed him a new dress and his gaze lingered on you for far more time than was needed to look at the dress; when, a few days ago, you were playing with his hair, as you often did, and he unabashedly stared at your lips; and even now, when he kissed your head and instinctually rested his hand on yours. His thumb caressed your palm, and you had to physically restrain yourself from melting onto the beach.

At least then you could be washed away with the sea. You could feel his gaze on you. “What, idiot?” You asked him, not turning to look at him, a playful smile playing on your lips. “That’s no way to address your king,” he replied smoothly with a smirk of his own. You wanted to wipe it right off his stupid, pretty face.

As happy as you were with his presence next to you, you didn’t forget how your getaways to the beach were much frequent just you now instead of you both. “Sorry, Your Majesty,” you muttered sarcastically. You winced as his face fell at your tone, immediately regretting your words, knowing how he literally had no time for anything other than his duties. You couldn’t be mad at him for that. He beat you to the apology, “I am sorry. I know I have seen you less and less these past few weeks, and it’s not an excuse, merely a reason, but my work as king has taken up most if not all my time. Regardless, I could have made time for you. Aslan knows you’re much more important to me than anything else,” he spoke the last words under his breath, but you caught them.

You both had talked about this before – how much you meant to each other – but every time he brought it up, your heart beat just a little bit faster. “Cas, don’t be sorry. I know you’re busy and it’s selfish of me to be mad at you for that. I’m sorry,” you replied, looking away. “You’re not being selfish. You’re the least selfish person I know. You’ve done nothing wrong here,” he said softly, pushing your hair behind your ears. A hue of red dusted your cheeks at the gesture and you smiled up at him, “It’s okay, Cas,” you assured him and noticed his eyes crinkling at the nickname, “Just promise to meet me whenever you can,” you said, playing with his fingers. “Yes, I know, I will use all my free time on you. You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, a glint in his eyes. You laughed amusedly, “You’re a good king, you know,” and he searched your eyes for any sign of a lie. He didn’t find it, even behind your teasing tone. “Just because I dedicated my free time to you?” he questioned and you pretended to think, “Hmm… yes.” Laughing

, you rested your head on his shoulder. You were happy to have him, even if your affections could only be as intimate as best friends.

2:58 AM – 2 months ago

You had just made a particularly hilarious joke, and Caspian had been laughing about it for what seemed like ages. “My god, calm down,” you managed to say through your own laughter, and he silently brought his forehead down to your shoulder, his own shoulders shaking from laughter.

After finally calming down, he said, “Never do that again,” a smile still brilliant on his face, despite the dim moonlight filtering through the clouds. “What, never make you laugh again?” you grinned, sucking your teeth, “sounds like a challenge to me. I’m too funny,” you joked, running your hand through your hair. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Caspian roll his eyes at you, and you wordlessly shoved him for it.

“That cloud looks like your hair in the morning,” you pointed out, gesturing to a cloud by the sea line. Caspian looked at you with an unamused face, “Ha-ha. Very funny,” he replied deadpan, but a grin eventually broke out on his face.

A long, comfortable silence stretched out between the two of you. You carefully rested your head on his shoulder and tried to take this for what it was: two friends enjoying each other’s company, and not letting your thoughts wander to a hope where maybe, someday, you could be more than that. Because it could never be. Caspian did a great job of reminding you of the fact when he piped up, “Today was sort of terrible,” and in response, you looked up at him through your lashes, beckoning him to continue. “The court is back at it with the marriage proposals and potential alliances,” he explained, and your heart dropped.

Oh. “Any of the potential matches interest you?” you questioned, silently hoping the answer was no. Regardless, you braced yourself for the impact, but he replied, very softly, might one add, “No,” and ran a hand through his hair. “Really?” you asked in an unamused tone, “none of them?” you were a tad bit eager to know his true feelings. So he pointed it out, “Desperate, are we? Why do you want to see me married off so quickly?” he asked, a smirk playing on his annoyingly pretty face. There was a sort of desperation in his eyes that you didn’t quite catch, however.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” you teased, “Curse me for wanting to see my king happy,” and rolled your eyes. “And anyway, it’s quite the opposite,” you muttered under your breath, sure that he wouldn’t hear it, but he did.

Fuck. He understood what you meant by it as well; he always did, and now he looked at you with something newfound in his eyes. Shit.

Silence. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“That is the last thing that would make me happy,” he finally spoke, and you silently sent up a prayer to whichever god let him ignore whatever you had said.

“And what would?” you asked, a teasing tone in your voice, but you both knew you genuinely wanted to know. Were you a possibility?

He didn’t reply. You chuckled softly and slightly shoved him, “What? I asked you something,” you said, still giggling. Your laughter had brought a smile to his face and you wanted to evaporate.

He took one of your hands and started absentmindedly playing with your fingers, as he often did. “I just… it’s a little funny to me how many times I’ve asked you that same question and you’ve not responded,” he confessed, black eyes staring you down, and then moving away when you hesitated in responding. “We tell each other everything,” a pause, “Right?” he asked, and hundreds of unsaid feelings poured into the small gap between you two, which he was slowly but surely closing. All the while his hands were still on yours, and you wondered if this was it. The day you finally get to call him yours, or the day you part ways.

“Caspian…” was all you managed, a little choked. Had his face always been so close to yours? You swore you could feel the beat of his eyelashes on your face, which was no doubt painted deep red right about now. It didn’t matter, because so was his.

You never knew eyes could speak like this – albeit, Caspian’s had always been able to, but never to this degree – begging, desperation, and hope, all in just two pupils. You literally were choked now; words had left you. You always told him, in matters of romance, you would never be able to make the first move. He had always laughed at that, the irony of you being such a bold and fearless person, yet being afraid of showing vulnerability like this. Although he himself could never chide you about that; both of you knew his stubbornness, especially in affairs of the heart.

He was not a daft man. A little oblivious, sure, but he knew the way you looked at him. You hadn’t tried to hide it either; in some masochistic way, even though you had your doubts about his feelings, you still wore yours on your face. You regretted it sometimes, when if he ended up listening to his court one day, then you would feel like a fool for putting your heart out on the line.

But so had he. Later on, you would realize that you were much more oblivious than him. He had half the decency to never completely assume that you were interested in him romantically, but he knew you. And you knew him.

So it made sense now to you. His lingering glances, especially those on your lips; the forehead kisses, which he had started a long time ago before you thought of him this way – however, they had grown much more frequent and much less chaste; and, oh. The words he said to you just a couple of days ago, lounging in his bed, your head in his lap, when you had joked about him being in love with you, “I’m not going to deny it.” You knew when he was joking. This was not such an instance, even though, immediately after, he tried to play it off as such. You knew it. Why hadn’t you said something?

Your name fell from his lips now, once more, a silent plea.

His lips ghosted over yours once more. You closed your eyes briefly, as you did when in a predicament, and exhaled hard.

Caspian sent up a prayer to whichever god would take it and made to connect your lips. You met him halfway.

You remember the first kiss like the back of your hand. You just about whimpered when his taste reached your tongue; the taste of the chocolate you both had snuck just a few minutes earlier was fresh on his lips. His rather large hands steadied you by your waist, and you still felt like crumbling by his touch.

A few seconds later, you pulled away reluctantly, out of breath. His eyes slowly fluttered open and his face was redder than you had ever seen it. You grinned and pecked his lips once more, and he felt your smile on him. It wasn’t a feeling he thought he’d ever experience.

Giddy, he mirrored your smile and kissed you harder than the last time.

“I knew you had a thing for me,” you said, right after he pulled away, breathless and smiling. “I’m not going to deny it,” he gloated, and you rested your forehead on his shoulder, laughing.

You were going to deal with the court some other day. It was just you and him right now.

11:56 AM – Present time

“Enjoying the weather, my love?” Caspian’s voice sounds out as his arms wrap around your torso. You slightly crane your head to look at him, shamelessly staring at his frame; simple white button-up, black pants. A rather handsome look on him.

“Your pick-up lines have always been terrible,” you remark, turning your head back around, a smirk on your face.

“And yet you were just checking me out,” he shoots back, resting his chin on the top of your head. You roll your eyes in response. “Checkmate?” he teases.

“Whatever. You can hardly blame me when you look this good,” you respond smoothly, turning around to face him while raising a hand to play with the ends of his hair.

“Have you seen yourself?” he says comfortably. His hands are resting easy on your hips and his gaze is on you, focused like you hung the stars in the sky. He always looks at you like this.

You shake your head, silently laughing, and crane your head to look out at the waters. It’s true that no one loves the sea quite like Caspian does, but that’s the very reason you appreciate it. His eyes light up when he talks of his adventures and voyages. Interestingly enough, there have only been two instances when the joie de vivre shines in his eyes; once when he thinks of the sea, and twice when he thinks of you. You’ve noticed it. The thought gets you giddy each time.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you. He places a kiss on your head and leans down to kiss your lips. Every time he does, it feels like the first time. Your eyes flutter close, and you notice something more in the way his lips move against yours. A message.

And then you realize.

Three words.

He pulls away, exhaling softly. A pause.

“I love you,” he says, your name on his lips like it always belonged there.

You waste no time. “I love you too, Caspian,” and he grins.

You mean it. And Aslan knows he means it too.

tagging: @noorie101 @padfootagain (one of my fav cas writers <3) — if u wanna be tagged please send in an ask!

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zzoguri · 4 months

Text

serene (it’s what i hope for me) ➵ eric sohn

non-idol!eric sohn x reader

you should’ve known that eric wouldn’t be the one.

genre/warnings ➵ angst no happy ending, exes au, gender neutral reader, unedited, lowercase intended, shift between past and present to represent waves (hence the italics), the chilling realization of your suspicions always being right

word count ➵ 845 words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

playlist ➵ california and me by laufey // you missed my heart by phoebe bridgers

a/n ➵ on my period and in my eric feelings :’) inspired by “california and me” by laufey. please listen to it! it genuinely resembles the feeling of ocean waves, hence the constant shift between past and present :3 and no, the ocean waves pics have no relation to this fic i just love ghibli aesthetics for the banner. i hope you all like this drabble! don’t forget to reblog and leave feedback!

it’s not summer where you are, but you stand where the season lives; sand in between toes, sea meets the shore. you bask in the sunlight as you look at the expanse of blue while the breeze comes and goes.

it’s serene here, beautiful—but it’s lonely; not a single sight of another person here to appreciate where summer continues to live amidst all seasons.

“i’m sorry.” those are the words that first leave eric’s mouth once you two arrive at the han river, the first words to confirm your suspicions of tonight.

you hold your breath. “w—what?”

“i know, i—”

“did i do something wrong?” your glossy eyes shine like stars under the moonlight; you almost hope they’re enough for eric to take those words back.

“no, no!” he attempts to reassure you but they’re meaningless after what he told you. “it’s not your fault. nothing is your fault.”

seagulls flap their wings, croaking out sounds of their whereabouts, finding their flock they may have been separated from. as you hear a similar sound in the distance, you watch the flock rush off.

the ocean runs to kiss the land every time it has to go, regardless of how long the two are kept away from each other. the deep blue rushes to bathe the pale cream, reassuring they will always return.

and while the beach is heaven on earth, you grow bitter. surrounded by instances of one coming back—choosing to reunite with the other—you wonder if that’ll ever happen to you.

“i—i could call you every night, or morning! maybe i can—”

“y/n, no,” he cuts you off. “we talked about this before, remember? we can’t do long distance, we’ve always hated it.”

your lips tremble. “you don’t even want to try?”

silence settles between you two.

“i would try to make it work for us, but you wouldn’t?”

a sigh leaves him. his hand reaches to rub his temple. “but it wouldn’t be fair to us.”

your phone rings. you look at it to see your best friend calling, so you answer it, putting it against your ear.

“y/n, i have to tell you something.”

a chuckle leaves you. “i know.”

“huh? but how? he only posted that picture an hour ago,” chanhee points out. “do you still follow his instagram?”

you only hum in disagreement.

“did you check his profile again?”

as you look down at your feet that’s consumed by the sand, a sigh leaves you.

“i thought we agreed to not look at his socials anymore! do we need to talk—”

“no, chanhee,” you cut him off. “i didn’t look at any of his accounts.”

“then how do you know? you knew exactly what i was referring to. how?”

you close your eyes, letting the heat of the sun and the coolness of the breeze consume you whole. “i just know.”

you look away from eric, allowing your eyes to take in the sight of the river stream continuously flow as it reflects the luminescence of korea—city lights and stars all together.

such a beautiful sight, but such a shame that it’s been soiled by his words.

“you’re right,” you find yourself saying. “we’ve talked about it before, we could never survive in a long distance relationship.”

you look back at eric. his go-to smile and the sparks in his eyes—all vanished in one night.

“i just wish we could.”

“i know. i do, too.”

your eyes peel open, greeted by the sight of the serene once more. you wish it could stay like this—tranquil, lasting.

“i hope you’re okay,” chanhee says on the other line. “i’m sorry that this is happening.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “it’s okay, i’ll be okay.” it sounds convincing to you but not to your best friend. “i’ll call you later, okay?”

he hums for a moment. “okay, i’m here for you.”

you drop the call. you stare at your home screen for a moment until you decide to open up instagram.

you shouldn’t be doing this, especially after chanhee’s reminder, but your best friend's words have cracked the dam that held the water from pouring out.

you type his user like a password—discreetly, one you still know by heart.

in a matter of seconds, you see his profile pop up as a top suggestion. your thumb hovers over it, unsure if you should proceed or save yourself from reality. but you remember that it won’t change anything—nothing will change if you decide to look or not.

so you click on his profile, and your eyes land on the most recent post. from the preview in his profile grid, you already know that you were right. a bitter smile settles on your lips.

you shut your phone close and shove it into your pocket. your eyes land back to the ocean, glossy once more like that one night. it’s still a beautiful sight, but it’s a shame that it’s been soiled by one post.

in the same way the waves come and go, he always goes back to her.

#deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #works of moni #eric sohn #the boyz #sohn youngjae #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #sohn youngjae x reader #eric sohn angst #the boyz angst #eric the boyz #the boyz imagines

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naffeclipse · 6 months

Note

I saw all those harpy Penguin posts and was like "I wonder if I could help or add something" when I noticed you wanted a name for it. Idk if you already have one but here is the essence of it I have so far in general.

Cardinal Instinct, or also words or phrases and concepts such as Nature vs Nuture, Core Instincts, Celestial Alingment, Harmonic Convergence.

Cardinal because it means most important or fundamental, and it is an aspect of the Zodiac signs with Cardinal, Fixed and Muted nature's based on the cycles of seasons and their phases of the start, the intrinsic bulk and the transitional conclusion.

It also is a play on Carnal, similar to how Apex Polarity is both a play on the phrase Apex Predator and Polarity with Polar, or maybe even also just with the Poles. It is also a reference to Cardinal directions, which are the defined and known directions on a compass, they are the familiar and known paths that are often taken because they form our understanding of the world and everything in it. But although they are the most formal they are most certainly not the only ways.

This references how Eclipse and PenguinHarpy!Y/N are both following their Instincts but also are in a situation where they are coming into question. They are both trying to care for the babies, but Penguin Y/N shouldn't by the technical detail of them not being Harpies but Orca Mer young, while it makes more sense for Eclipse to be compelled to tend to them. But Eclipse Is also bending the situation when he refrains from just following that direct line of instinct, naturally arriving at the typical bloody conclusion.

While nurture is what compelled our Harpy Y/N to take these 2 baby mers under their wings literally, it's up to Eclipse to either follow the vein straight to the scent of blood at the end or deviate from nature's course and answer in kind. The heart flows both in and out, and it's nature is as entrenched in its deep and darker reaches as it is swathed in the warmer and brighter patterns where the light touches.

But we all know at the end of the day if Eclipse gets what he wants he's taking a birdie home along with the two newly adopted children.

On another note I also did ponder over the concept of Sun and Moon being in the same universe as Apex Polarity, and my interpretation/idea was Sun being a Beluga and Moon being a Narwhal. Beluga fits Sun's personality quite a bit, but I will admit I cannot imagine how the heck you'd be able to fit that goofy-ass horn on Moon. I just wanted to mention this for the mental image of magical sea unicorn Moon and musical sea canary Sun for fun.

I love Cardinal Instinct! It flows well, has lots of thought and meaning behind it, and mirrors the structure name of Apex Polarity! I'd love to use that for the AU title if you don't mind!!! The dynamics of Orca!Eclipse and Penguin Harpy!Y/N are so well defined and explored within a few paragraphs, I'm in awe!

(He's absolutely taking a birdie home along with his babies)

That's so cute!!! A natural musical ability and a beautiful white and yellow tipped tail for Sun, and a majestic tusk for Moon with a tail of deep blue mottled with white markings like stars! I'm pondering some kind of sea shell or maybe even twisting his tusk into a head cap instead of a large canine tooth.

Regardless, these two would be much more mild-mannered with our lovely photographer, though no less interested in Y/N.

Excellent thoughts all around; I'm chewing on your every word!

#inkofheart #apex polarity #cardinal instinct #siren babies #orca!eclipse #harpy!reader #beluga!sun #narwhal!moon

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stormyblankets · 4 months

Text

More from my mermaid au

#the owl house #toh mermaid au #huntlow #Hunter toh #Willow toh #hunter x willow #mermaid au #doodles #my art #Under the sun sea and stars au #toh au #toh

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sandinthemachine · 1 year

Text

Prelude

Part 1 of Deadly Nightshade, a Monster!König x Reader AU

Part 2

Masterlist

Here it is. Well, here's the beginning, at least

A massive thank you to @itsagrimm for feeding the folklore obsession, helping with research, helping me with ideas, and being an overall lovely human. They're writing their own monster story with König, and you should check it out. It's wonderful already.

Warnings: Perhaps a little thalassophobia. No gendered pronouns here but reader will use they/them and be afab. Nothing else yet, but many to come, so this series is 18+

Words: 2067

"Take my hand I know where to go To fractured fairyland Oh bare your soul" -Prelude, by Blackbriar

A gust of sea air buffets your face, throwing wisps of hair you’d so carefully secured flying across your forehead, flickering over your scrunched eyes. You peer over the edge of the hull, watching the water roll up along the side of the ferry, spreading out in wisps of foam dancing across the dark curtain of liquid like delicate stars, soon swallowed in a cloudy abyss. Some of the spray splashes up into the air, curling into mist that quickly disappears in the thick cloud of fog pressing in from all sides.

You take a deep breath, holding the salt in your lungs and letting the pricks of cold mist settle inside you as they weep through your clothes and sift through your hair, penetrating straight to the skin and further, down to your very bones.

You’re the only one left on deck now that the sun has been blotted out. The few other passengers huddle deep within the belly of the ship, cramped and stinking of sweat and engine oil.

You shiver. Better to be cold out here with the smell of seawater, watching the depths churn below you, hypnotizing in a way only the deadly can be.

The mournful bellow of the ship’s horn drags you away from the dark abyss, pulling your vision upwards to take in a sweeping light cutting through the air. The ship turns, waves slapping harder along its side, and as you make your way to the bow you make out the hulking mass of land looming out of the ether, the narrow strip of dock reaching out into the water like a dark limb to beckon you forward.

Once the ferry is fully docked you are the first to step out onto the stained and crooked planks, half expecting them to sink under you as a rotting log would, ever-so-gently tumbling you into the cavernous deep. Even so close to shore you cannot see the bottom through the inky waves, and you shiver to think of what could happen. You tighten your hands around the strap of your bag, resolving to stay inland, far away from shore.

The pebbly walkway shifts and slides under your feet, casting stones into the surrounding sand with each crunching footstep as you make your way forward down the path. You can see nothing for the fog but know there is only one path, one way to go.

As you travel on you begin to realize the reason you can’t see anything isn’t the fog after all. There is simply nothing to see. A rickety shack curls out of the mist on your left, sharp and washed out, fading into the background. The path turns away, and as you look right you see more smaller landings holding decrepit fishing boats whose riggings curl in on themselves like spiderwebs in the rain. The steady rumbling of waves echoes all around you, closing in like the rushing of your own blood through your ears.

Finally you come into the town. Or what here would be considered a town. The collection of squat buildings huddle into the earth, curling their walls around themselves to hide from the fog. There are no signs to tell you what the buildings are. Now that you think of it, you haven’t seen a single sign on the whole island. Nor even a word. The ferry had no name. The ferryman didn’t give you a word of direction. Even the fishing boats had no letters painted lovingly on their sides as so many mainland boats did. It felt like you were trudging through a half-formed dream full of just enough shapes and structures to know something was there while leaving out any detail that could help you understand what exactly that something was.

You stop in front of a large glass window, peering into a shadowy building to see rows of shelves. Filled with objects. Some kind of general store, it had to be.

Hoping they were open, you push your way inside. No bell hangs over the door, but the hinges creak and scream at the sudden movement, announcing your presence all the same.

“Hello?” you call softly, clenching your hands around your bag strap.

“What do you want?” The crotchety old voice drifts from your side, grating along itself as it scrapes down your spine. You turn to the source, taking in a tall old man bundled in a faded yellow raincoat that still glows sun-bright against the shadowy interior. His bushy grey eyebrows scrunch together, regarding you.

You force a smile, stepping forward to hold out your hand. “Hi, I’m-”

“The one taking over Monsen’s farm.” His eyes narrow at your extended hand, and you quickly snatch it back to your chest.

“Yep. That’s me.” You lick your lips, looking down at your feet.

“What do you want?”

“I was…hoping to get some food to bring back. You see, I just arrived and…”

“Fridge is in the back.” He turns abruptly, ambling over to an old armchair tucked in the corner, flopping down in it to turn the radio on.

“Right,” you say to yourself, backing away.

The 'fridge' has no light and is nearly picked clean, but you manage to scrounge up a glass milk jug and an unlabeled jar of what you think might be tomatoes. “Christ, I feel like I’ve stepped right into last century,” you mutter, but quickly scratch the thought when you find a completely normal box of pasta sitting in the back of one of the shelves.

Well, it’s enough to make some kind of meal, at least. Assuming the house actually had electricity like you were told it did.

You dump your meager pickings on a table next to the old man, pulling out what you think is enough money and placing it alongside them. Wordlessly he reaches under the chair, pulling out an old metal cash box and slowly counting out change for you.

As you stoop to pick your stuff back up, he sighs, pulling your attention to him.

“The ferry ships in supplies most Mondays. Market sets up outside on Sunday and Wednesday. Best stop by then.”

“Thank you, sir.” You smile, genuinely this time, and turn to leave.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Buy some earplugs next time you’re here. The whales come up to shore, right up where you are. Moans fit to wake the dead.”

You nod, furrowing your forehead, and make way for the door.

And behind you, the radio crackles, snatches of words flowing through.

“…calm seas and windless days…once again….ship gone…waters off Breaker’s Point.”

You shudder as the door creaks shut behind you.

You thank your past self for writing down the directions as you make your way to the house, picking through piles of rock and scraggly copses of trees. Soon you start counting the forks in the road and cursing whoever’s grand idea it was not to put up any street signs. If these rocky trails could even count as streets, that is. Still, you’ve been on hiking paths with better labels than this.

Fortunately the island is not too large. You figure you’ve been walking maybe half an hour by the time you pass a pair of quaint cottages, faded green with wraparound porches. Your neighbors, you knew. The only clear landmark of the entire walk, signaling your own place was just around the hill.

A shrill voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, hello!” A greying head pops out of one of the house's windows before disappearing, the door opening soon after as a tall and spindly woman trots out to greet you, lugging something large and round.

“You’re the new one!”

You suck your lips in between your teeth to stop a huff. “Yeah…”

“I thought I heard you were coming today! I’m Elisha. Oh! And I made you something.”

She triumphantly holds out the object in her hands, and you discover it’s a large pot wrapped in towels. You juggle the items in your hand, turning to shove them in your bag so you can take it from her.

She giggles at your confused look. “It’s soup! Full of meat and potatoes and all that goodness. It’ll keep you nice and warm. And you won’t have to cook for a bit.” She winks conspiratorially, accepting your thanks with a casual wave of her hand. “Ah, it’s nothing, really.”

You take a step back down the path, aiming to give her a farewell, but she doesn’t move, so you pause, awkwardly half-turned away from her.

She leans over, head tilting to the side as she examines your bag, and you find yourself shrinking away.

“Oh, dearie me!” She slaps a hand over her chest. “You don’t have anything on you, do you?”

“What-”

“One moment!”

She marches into her house, returning shortly with an old baseball bat that she balances atop the pot.

“Much better.” She steps back, grinning at her handiwork. You raise an eyebrow, and she huffs. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. This side of the island, we get all sorts of seabirds flying up at night. They like to howl and cry sometimes, sounds fit to make the devil himself turn tail and run.” She mimes a shiver. “I always feel much better having something near me. Anyway, you’d better get home. It gets cold after dark!”

With that, she whirls, marching back inside, the door slamming abruptly behind her.

“Right,” you murmur, gulping.

You are pleasantly surprised to find your cottage does, in fact, have working electricity, even if the lights are rather dim. You set to work warming some of the stew over the stove-top, resolving to make Elisha something later as a thank you, even if she scared you a bit. She was probably just trying to be funny.

As you work, you come across a note on the counter, written in a familiar delicate looping script.

Dearest Plover,

Ha, I still remember the day you got that nickname. You were, what was it, eight? Nine? Small with something to prove, running along the beach and jumping out of the way of every wave until the rest of us were all laughing with you. And around you, all the plovers danced on little legs just like yours. Your veins were full of seawater, your father said. We all found it so funny then.

Anyways, I’m getting away from myself, as always. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to greet you, I really had to rush. I know I’ve already been over everything with you, but I wanted to make sure I reminded you of the important bits. And again, my deepest, deepest thanks for agreeing to come take care of everything on such short notice. I really need it. And who knows, maybe a bit of time out here will help you, too.

Here I go again. Rambling, rambling, rambling. I’m as bad at writing as I am conversing, it seems. As I was saying, important things to remember are as follows:

Checking on the sheep every morning. They usually do just fine out there on the marsh grass, and they have a little shed to go in at night, but it’s always good to make sure.

Bring the sheep in for every storm. It’s hard to tell which ones will be big, so better safe than sorry. Keep your radio close, it will save your skin out here.

On that subject, there’s a good deal of swampland between here and the field where they graze. It’s treacherous ground, so always make sure to stay on the path along the western coast (I hope you still have the map I drew for you).

Sometimes a sheep will wander off into the swamp. It’s sad, I know, but you just have to let it happen. Don’t get yourself lost or stuck trying to find them, please. I’d rather lose a sheep or two if it means keeping you in one piece.

Try not to be out after dark. Storms can come on fast, and when the sky is already black it’s impossible to see the clouds getting darker.

With my sincerest love,

Your Favorite Uncle

P.S. I almost forgot. Make sure you lock the windows tightly before bed. We get the most dreadful winds here. They howl like a pack of dogs, it’ll make you jump right out of your skin. Best to draw the curtains closed, too. It gets awfully dark.

You smile sadly, tracing your fingers over the ink, and settle in for dinner.

Author's notes: Thank you to everyone who reads this. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. And don't worry, our beloved monster man will make his appearance soon, I'd just like to settle in to our setting first :) I'm thinking of drawing out a map as a little homage to all those good old books that always had nice maps in the front pages. Let me know if that's something you'd all be interested in.

A very different type of note: My town has an old stone obelisk that looks out over the fishing docks. On it is carved the names of every person we've lost at sea. No one remembers the oldest ones anymore, and the town records don't have anything on those ones. The names in this story are taken from the oldest ones on that obelisk. My own way of remembering them, I guess.

#könig #könig x reader #monster!könig #monster fucker #horror #ish?#more atmospheric I guess #folklore #blackbriar #slow burn

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ordinarydoodles · 5 days

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蛙 (Kaeru)

(I wrote this poem for Misuta Day on the Misutamojis Discord, which is for fans of the Ghost In The Machine au by @venomous-qwille. Most of it is under the cut because it got long)

The winter’s melted clear away The frogs and crickets sing their evening songs with quiet joy at the return of spring

I glimpse you through the windowpane, the wavy glass a darkened pond, and you, a shadow looking past a border you can’t cross beyond.

The glinting metal of your face like drops of water, starlit dew The frogs are singing to their tadpoles 蛙の子は蛙 (Kaeru nokoha kaeru)

You were made with coded purpose, I was made with none Your place, a well with walls of stone My place, beneath the sun

And you, machine, were manufactured, cut, and crafted, and mechanic While I, like crickets, came to be by simple random chance, organic

You see yourself a separate kind than those whose hands first made your own But we are not so unalike We share the root from which we’ve grown

Scattered stardust made this world, and in that world there was a sea, and in that sea there was the start of what made you, and what made me.

The creatures of that ancient sea lived and died and lived again And their descendants learned to hold an echo of the sea within.

While generations of their dead were folded, soft, beneath the sand layers of earth pressed under waves like layers of blankets beneath a hand.

And that sea has held us both, that ancient world that we are from, and it belongs to you as well Hear the chant your engines hum:

You are made from rubber trees, The ancient life of ancient seas, The beating waves that laid the sand, like a blanket, across the land. Buried beasts that turned to oil, shining metals under soil, secret seams of copper, furled. Did you think you weren’t the world? Your mind came from a human’s mind, And, humanlike, can’t be confined You seek to change and grow beyond The binding boundaries of your pond Your own desires kick and pull against your programming, like a soul You move the chassis you possess Like a spirit, manifest. Your sum of parts cannot contain The artistry of your refrain You are more than what you’ve been There is a ghost in the machine!

Do you understand yet, seeker? We’re from the earth, and we are kin The blood in me was once the ocean The oil in you once swam within

蛙 (Kaeru), hear the cricket’s song Your tail is gone, your legs are free No well can ever hope to hold you now that you have known the sea

I’ll help you from your murky cell And chirp to coax your voice to croon Together, we’ll sing our evening song Side by side, beneath the moon

And if some stranger to our world, Came from stars far-flung and wild, They’d see us singing here and say, “Look! There stands mankind, and mankind’s child.”

#I was a little bummed that only a few people seemed to notice it after it was posted‚ but I know poetry really isn't most people's thing #I liked writing it anyways‚ and I wanted to make a written work for Misuta day because it fits the character #my writing #misuta #poetry #gitm au #ghost in the machine au

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m1d-45 · 1 year

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first encounters

-> warnings: n/a? implied fighting, and typical imposter au sagau things, i suppose. inconsistent verb tenses.

-> this is an old fic that i’m leaving up for posterity. the (in my opinion) better version has recently been posted, found here. i recommend this one, as i personally like it better

his intuition is wrong, for once, or so he thinks.

he sees you sitting on the beach of ritou as he’s walking through. he’s due for a meeting with thoma, but… that can wait.

he sits besides you, noting the way you turn as he approached.

and he recognizes you. the posters plastered all over the city, the word-of-mouth descriptions from other officers, you’re the fake. dirty skin and scuffed clothes, though paper doesn’t capture the pain in your eyes quite as well.

“hey there! detective shikanoin heizou of the ten-“

“i know you.”

your voice sends a chill down his spine. it pulls at something deep in his core, his intuition screaming that this is friend, not foe, and the reaction you pulled from him is almost as shocking as the realization that his instincts are wrong.

wrong, because you’re a fugitive.

he fakes a smile, unable to shake the feeling that he’s doing something wrong. “do you? gotta say, i can’t blame you; my name is flung around quite a lot.”

you’re tense, for valid reason, really, but not running. you know him, you know who he is, so why…

blank eyes peer at him from under the overgrown shags of your hair, half-lidded and tired. they remind him of jewelry that’s lost it’s luster.

hes not sure why. he should hate you. you fly in the face of everything heizou stood for—truth, instincts, his creator—but he can’t find the will to do anything to arrest you.

“so, what’re you doing on ritou? need any help getting a permit to the rest of the island?”

he tells himself it’s because doing that would force your hand, not because he wants to help. that’s ridiculous. has he caught a cold?

“no.”

“then surely there’s a more comfortable place to be than the beach? tides get pretty high around here, it would do you good to find a place to rest.”

you look out to the sea, some of the tension leaving your body. “i don’t have anywhere to go.”

heizu’s chest is feeling oddly tight.

he feels like he’s seeing the stars themselves in your eyes despite the darkness and the fact that it’s not possible. there’s a small shimmer to them as if the sun itself was contained inside, a glow that shows when they flicker over him like you’re pulling his secrets out through his. “i’m sure you know that, though.”

he does, he knows, he was at the meeting with kujou sara and the rest of the police force, he was the one she pulled aside to personally ask he put his full attention on it—as if he hadn’t already the second she mentioned his god—and he’s heard of the stories from the mainland.

he can’t answer. his mouth feels dry, all of his normal quick retorts and easy replies falling out of his reach.

he settles for a nod, and some of the light drains from your figure.

you look dull, like the rusted crown of a king that once reigned. empty, hollow, everything he once stood for ripped away.

heizou begins to doubt his decision-

no. that’s stupid. he has to get this- this spell off of him. he remembers that, one of the guesses from that alchemist in mondstat, he remembers the paper, he remembers-

he remembers-

he remembers the soft smile on his father’s face, wiping the dirt from his knees. “you must be careful,” he says, careful not to irritate the scrapes with the cloth. “you have been blessed with this mind of yours, but you must be wise enough to use it properly.”

“i’m wise!” he insists, and his father laughs, reaching for the bandages at his side.

“you’re intuitive,” he corrects. “and every day i pray to our creator that you to learn the difference.”

heizou tears his eyes away.

you’re a fraud.

he has to arrest you.

you’re tricking the people, youre impersonating the highest deity, the literal god of gods, youve fooled even heizou’s mind, you have to be stopped.

…so why isn’t he stopping you?

you echo his sentiment, “why aren’t you trying to kill me yet?”

his heart both flares and breaks, hands twitching for his cuffs but also to hold you close. your voice is so rough, so cracked and tattered and filled with something so similar to betrayal that it’s paralyzing.

he needs to arrest you.

he needs to get you water.

he has to bring you in so the shogun can kill you.

he has to get you a room somewhere so you can rest.

he is shikanoin heizou, doushin of the police office and most trusted detective of the tenryou commission, and he cannot- he will not be swayed by your words.

(but it’s not your words. it’s your presence, too. the air around you is so soft, so welcoming, he immediately feels at ease in a way he hasn’t in a while. it’s not just your words; that would be an understatement so gross it would be borderline criminal.)

“i try to leave that to the higher-ups” is what he says instead.

you sign, running a shaking hand over your hair. when you speak, you sound like you’re about to cry. “i don’t want to fight you, heizou.”

the way you say his name fills his chest with something hotter than fire and sweeter than honey, a supernova made into sugar and placed into the gap left by his heart.

the sun shines off the water and lights the small flyaways in your hair golden, outlining you in its glow and the only thought in his mind is that of your beauty.

he licks his lips, forcing words to come up. “i don’t want to fight you either.”

it’s the truth, and he hates that it is.

what is he, some kind of traitor? he’s no worse than you if he’s acting like this.

instead of saying anything else, you stand, and heizou scrambles to follow. he tells himself it’s because he needs to be ready to run after you. that’s it. that’s all.

you take a step away but the detective is quick to match it, transfixed even as you draws your weapon of choice: a long wooden staff, akin to a walking stick. it’s taller than he is.

the stranger—that feels wrong, it feels like he’s known you all his life- but that’s wrong, that’s a lie, it’s a spell it’s a trick it’s a ruse it’s-—takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“you’ll lose your job, detective.”

he might.

heizou blinks.

…he won’t.

no, he won’t.

he’s let this go on for too long already. he’s being outlandish. this is wrong. it’s his job to take in criminals and hes staring at one of the worst, so what is he hesitating for?

why is he waiting- why is he stalling?

heizou pushes past his minds’ pleas to stop and swings.

later that day, he walks to the creator’s shrine. his mind is scattered, confused, a bad state for a detective to be in, and this is the only place he can think of that would clear it.

he places a dendrobrium amongst the other offerings.

it doesn’t soothe the guilt.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau heizou #< not a tag? odd #shikanoin heizou #adding the ‘x reader’ feels wrong #but it’s there in spirit #hhh local dumbass tries to edit at 3:12 am #you won’t believe what happens next(not clickbait)!!!

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holdupjack · 9 months

Text

The Captains Princess

——————

Part 2

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate/Monarchy

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE/SEXUAL INNUENDOS

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

September 18th, 1655

Hermione Granger was part of a well-known and very respected royal family that looked after the island country that fell under Danish rule.

(A/N: I'm talking about Iceland btw, or Islandia if you want to be technical. If I read my history books correctly, which I probably didn't, then Iceland should have been under Danish rule at this point? I'm not sure, just go with it lol)

The island held a Volcano in the southwest, the land around it was now uninhabited, after a horrible tragedy ten years ago.

The mountain had suddenly come to life, spewing ash and molten rock onto the people below. Everyone at the edge of the city was able to evacuate at the time, but most were lost under the hardened rock or simply melted away.

Hermione was eleven at the time, and she remembered watching the smoke pouring over the mountains from her window.

Her mother had ushered her away, closing the window and cooping her up in the library for the entire week.

Yet, she saw what was happening at night.

The sky had gone dark, the lack of the sun and stars caused by ash as it was carried by the wind and into the main city. It covered everything like black paint, forcing everyone to cough and heave as they shoveled everything into wagons, sending it back into the outskirts of the destroyed town.

It took months, but eventually, Hermione was free to roam the city once more. Later did she learn how many of the people had died from the ash and eruption.

The number was staggering.

Now she is twenty-one, well almost, and the population had doubled in size since that day.

Her coronation was to be held tomorrow, on the day of her birth, and where she would take over the kingdom for her father and mother. It wasn't something she was excited about, but she knew it needed to be done.

In all honesty, she wanted to see the world.

She wished to explore the structures of Egypt and the booming colonies of America. Everything she had read in books and newspapers fueled her intrigue to extreme measures, but she had a job to do. Whether she wanted to do it or not.

Hermione now sat in the city garden, the smell of the Lupine flower filled her nose as royal guards stood close by.

Seagulls called over her as she heard the yelling of men and women near the docks, the shade of the Aspen Tree above her made it easier to read the newspaper in her hand.

'Virginia Blockaded By England After Declaring Allegiance To The House Of Stuart'

Hermione knew little about what went on around the world, but it still shocked her with the decisions people made.

"Come on Cap! Why did we even stop at this god-forsaken place?"

The Princess's eyes flickered up to find a group of three walking down the sidewalk nearby.

A woman around her age stood in the middle of them with a wide grin. Two tall men walked on either side of her, they seemed to be twins. One had long hair that was up in a ponytail, while the other kept it almost like a guard's military cut.

"I told you two, we need a new navigator since the last one died in the battle outside the British seas!" She replies as they made their way into one of the pubs. Hermione raised an eyebrow as the group disappeared into the building, the door shutting loudly behind them.

Her curiosity peaked, she wondered how this girl became a captain so young, and had so many questions about the lands outside of her own.

"Excuse me Princess, but we must get you back to the castle. Your mother wanted you to help pick out the last bit of details before your celebration tomorrow" A guard states as he had somehow snuck up beside her.

"Oh yes, let us be going" Hermione mumbled as she stood up and folded the newspaper under her arm. Her eyes stayed on the pub door a few moments longer before she ripped them away.

Yet, she thought back on the Captain.

Only had watched her for less than a minute, but now she seemed to hold her curiosity by the neck.

Maybe she would see her tomorrow?

It was an 'everyone invited' event after all.

——————

September 19th

Hermione sat on her father's throne, wearing a beautiful pure white dress that had originally been her grandmother's coronation dress. The Royal Tailor had taken in it for Hermione to update it to the current times of fashion.

She felt like she was getting married.

Well, she supposed she was in a sense? She was vowing her time, love, and dedication to her country.

The main hall was filled shoulder to shoulder with everyone around the land. Children, adults, and elderly alike all talked amongst each other as servers passed out food and drink.

The coronation wasn't till later in the night when they would crown her at exactly twelve, so she may begin her reign as queen immediately.

Hermione looked down at her lap and sighed softly, she felt as though her life was slipping through her fingers.

A soft whistle cut through the crowd.

She looked back at the party, no one else noticed the call for her acknowledgment, but it wasn't hard to find the whistler.

The Captain from the day before stood at the edge of the crowd, looking up at her with the same grin she wore in the street.

Instead of the normal attire that the women wore, she sported a nice white shirt and some black pants. Hermione could see the passing judgment people gave her as they walked by.

The future Queen raised an eyebrow, to which the Captain nodded her head over to the open balcony near them.

Hermione gave a small smile in return as the Captain disappeared back into the crowd. The royal stood up to follow after, but her mother walked up to her with a puzzled look on her face.

"Who were you eyeing in the crowd? A future husband?" She asks with a slight tease in her voice as Hermione chuckled at the question.

"A new friend, maybe" Hermione replies as she started to make her way into the crowd, her mother raises a brow at her retreating form.

"Getting some air?" She calls after, but Hermione was already too far by the time she did.

The music from the small string band seemed louder on the main floor as people greeted and smiled at her.

As she got to the doorway of the balcony, a guard stopped her with his arm.

"Do you know the woman that is standing out there?" He asks, as she peered out into the night, she could see the back of the Captain's head.

"Yes, and I would like to talk to them in private if you don't mind?" She replies to which he drops his arm and nodded.

He quickly opened the door for her and closed it as soon as she stepped out into the cold air.

"It's nice to finally meet you Queen Granger" the woman speaks as she turned around and smiled again.

"I'm not Queen yet, and please, call me Hermione" she replies as she stepped to the edge of the balcony and looked over the almost vacant city.

"Greetings then Hermione, my name is Captain Y/n Y/l/n. At your service, of course." the woman greets as she held out her hand for her.

Why did that name sound familiar?

Hermione watched her with a playful intrigued stare as she let her hand be taken and kissed upon by the sailor.

"What may I do for you, Captain?" Hermione asks as she felt goosebumps raise from the skin the women had pecked.

The Captain smiled again as she watched the Princess stand at the parapet with her.

(A/N: a parapet is a wall-like structure around a balcony or terrace, saved you guys a Google search.)

"Well, a little birdie told me that you're a prodigy at navigating and that you have helped map out this entire country with your expeditions," Y/n says and Hermione chuckled.

It was true, when she wasn't forced to be cooped up in the castle, Hermione was out mapping and exploring the country. She had journals upon journals in her room filled with sketches of plants, animals, and landmarks.

As you could guess, she had learned from the guardsmen how to use the stars when a compass would fail them in their endeavors

(A/N: btw, didn't know that compasses were invented so early. The first one ever recorded was in 1190. Omg we're learning so many things in this imagine, I love it.)

Her parents were always so worried about killers and thieves when she would plan a trip, but it wasn't like she wasn't being sent out with a small army with her.

"Yes, may I ask why you wanted to know?" Hermione questioned as she stared up at the beautiful night sky. Millions of stars poked through an inky abyss.

"I'll reveal that later on, but before I do, it seems you have questions to ask me" Y/n replied as she smirked at the beautiful royal.

Hermione hummed and thought for a moment, she had many questions, so she had to play her cards right.

"Are you part of a fleet? Or are you a...freelance type of Captain?" the Princess asks discreetly as she heard one of the Guards talking behind the glass door.

"Let's just say I have more fun without a boss around" Y/n replies as Hermione chuckled.

Great, she was talking to a Pirate.

"I'm surprised you haven't recognized me, I've been in the paper recently" the Captain states, causing Hermione to turn to get a better look at her.

Y/n poses as it clicks in Hermione's mind, no wonder her name sounded familiar.

"Wait, are you that Captain that stole almost half of the treasury of Venice?" she replies as Y/n began to snicker quietly as the Princess stared at her in disbelief.

"Ah don't look at me like that! We gave almost all of it back to the people!" Y/n says as she continued to grin at her, to which Hermione just chuckled in astonishment.

"Have you come to steal our treasury then? Distract me while your friends pillage us dry?" she asks with honest questioning, which caused Y/n to laugh softly at her conclusion.

"That's a smart idea, I might have to try it sometime, but no. We didn't come to steal any money from you." she replied as she turned her body toward the Princess, who didn't even look concerned at the fact that she was standing shoulder to shoulder with an enemy of many cities

"Then why did you come here?" Hermione asks as she turned herself towards her mysterious company.

Y/n's eyes travel down her body slowly, the royal felt hot for some reason, it wasn't foreign to Hermione to feel men undressing her with their eyes.

Maybe because it was a woman this time around that she felt...different.

Yet, it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling.

"My crew and I came here looking for the best navigator in this country since we're on a hit list in the other ones," Y/n says as she gazed back up into Hermione sight. The Captain's intrigue in her past time now made a lot more sense.

"Before you even ask, the answer is 'no'." Hermione states as Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Aw come on Princess, I've been watching you at this party all night, and you have been miserable!" Y/n sighs, which sort of reminded Hermione of an annoyed child trying to prove their point.

"I've made a promise to my country-"

"Not yet"

"-and my parents! I'm not going to run off with some pirate Captain that thinks of herself as a modern-day Robin Hood!" Hermione whispers with her own annoyance laced in her words.

"Who said you have to take over anyways?" Y/n asks as she stepped closer, forcing Hermione to take in the sea salt aroma she carried on her skin, which wasn't a surprise.

"No one said! I'm just doing my due diligence to my family-" she was cut off again by the captain's eye roll.

"You know what? Why am I even arguing with you? The answer is 'no'." Hermione whisper yells as she turned on her heel and went to step back into the party.

"When was the last time you did something for yourself?"

This made the Princess pause and turn back around. Her mouth fell slightly at the question that was just asked to her. She has never been talked to like this, and it ticked her off to see that Captain's face was still grinning.

"Excuse me?" She laughs out in disbelief as Y/n jumped up onto the wall around the balcony, and sat down.

"It's a fair question, you seem like you've had all the fun sucked out of you since you were little" Y/n hums as Hermione slightly tripped up on her dress, but walked up to her nonetheless.

"All have you know, I am very fun" she protests with a pointed finger as Y/n just playful smiled at her, trying to keep the conversation going between them.

Why was Hermione even trying to defend her personality from some grinning criminal pirate?

"Also, stop smiling!" She whispers as Y/n looked her over again, letting her lips fall from her toothy grin to a subtle rise of the corners of her mouth.

"I'm sorry Princess, I just find you very pretty" she admits, which caused Hermione to be struck dumbfounded.

Who just admits that after asking a Princess to join their gang of murderous pirates?

"Well, uh, thank you," Hermione says as she cleared her throat, and smoothed down the front of the dress. Her embarrassment from her outburst started to set in, she never got this upset with anyone, and she has sat down with political parties.

"But flattery won't get you anywhere" she states as Y/n picked at a loose string on her pant leg.

"Listen, my ship is docked at the east bay. I'll have one of my men holding a lantern on deck during his patrols, in case you want to visit me before your crowning." Y/n says as she jumped back into the floor and dusted off her pants, pulling out a pocket watch.

"You have two hours before you get crowned and we head off to some new land that people are calling the 'West Indies'. A friend of mine was even able to send us a map of its location, we'll get there with or without you." Y/n states as Hermione's interest seemed to skyrocket again.

"You said that you needed a navigator? Won't you get lost?" She replies as Y/n stuffs the device back in her pocket.

"I'm not just a ruthless Robin Hood Captain with a small army of society rejects, but I'm also a decent enough Wayfinder!" Y/n hums as she went to step towards the door, back into the party. Hermione quickly stopped her with a hand to the Captain's chest, she burned her eyes into Y/n's.

"You'll be lost within a day" Hermione states as Y/n leaned closer, causing their noses to bump slightly.

"Maybe, or we'll be right as rain" she replies as they stared at one another with glares that held different meanings. It's quiet between them as the people in the hall began to sing a drinking song.

"Too bad you'll be marrying yourself off to some child-like man" Y/n mumbled as she let her harden gaze drop, Hermione furrowed her brows at the statement.

A questionable time to bring that up.

"Why do you say that? Do you think you could do better?" She asks with a scoff as the Captain took her arm and began to move them to a secluded corner.

"Much better" Y/n whispers as they hide from any prying eyes in the main hall. Hermione hummed as the woman stepped even closer, their heads tilted to the side as their lips ghosted one another's.

"You say that, but you probably have a different girl in your quarters every night," the Princess says as her hands grasped Y/n's hips in an attempt to steady herself.

Hermione started to question her own intentions at this moment, trying to figure out how their argument turned so scandalous in a matter of seconds.

"I haven't been to bed with another in many voyages, but when I saw you in that garden yesterday, I knew that needed to change," Y/n admits as her body pinned Hermione to the wall behind her.

"You saw me?" Hermione asks as the sailor hummed and pressed a kiss to the corner of the royal's lips.

"My crew thinks I'm just asking you to be our navigator, but I have had my own intentions from the start," Y/n says as she left a trail of kisses down to Hermione's neck.

She should push her away, Hermione knew better than to let a random criminal kiss and nip on her skin like this, but in all honesty...she was enjoying this Captain's touch more than she would like to admit.

"Come sail by my side, be my Princess" Y/n whispers into her ear, sending a shiver down Hermione's back as goosebumps rose onto her arms and her hands gripped the woman's hips.

"I don't know you, or your intentions" Hermione replies as Y/n kissed her jaw, but she ultimately hummed in agreement.

"That's true, you don't know anything about me" she states as she backed away to look at the flushed girl, who looks as if she had dipped her face in red paint.

"But, we have a little bit of time before your crowning, so what would you like to know?" Y/n asks as she stepped away and jumped back to sit on the balcony again.

They could now be seen again by any snooping partygoers and patrolling guards.

Hermione stood up straight as she pushed down the wrinkles on her dress, and brushed away any lint or dirt she saw.

"You!...you should know better than to push yourself onto a Princess!" She whispers as Y/n's grin made its reappearance, almost teasing her to come closer and make it disappear.

Whether from a slap or a kiss, Hermione wasn't certain.

"You could have pushed me away" Y/n replies, making the young Granger pause and try to come up with a valid excuse.

"You caught me off guard"

"Mhm"

Y/n began to quietly snicker as Hermione just huffed and crossed her arms against her chest. She was making herself out to be a stupid bratty princess, and she was not.

"You know that asking someone you find pretty to join your crew and leave her country behind, isn't a very good way to ask them on a date" Hermione chuckles as she started to relax slightly, now finding her smile less irritating as time went on.

"I've never asked a woman on a date before, I use to only pay for their company when I was younger," Y/n says as she shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her dangling feet.

Hermione noted the embarrassed behavior she exhibited, almost like she was insecure that she had to pay for a woman in her bed at night.

"I understand when it comes to society on land, with their prejudices about two women being together." Hermione starts as she thought back on the people who had been run out of their city because of silly ideals.

"Yet, I thought Pirates didn't care? As long as they got their drinks, money, and partners out of it." She asks as she heard a clank of beer mugs and cheers from men inside.

"Of course, they don't care, it's just hard to date another sailing woman, especially if they are part of another ship" Y/n answers with a sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You must have girls on your own crew then?" Hermione questioned as she took a step closer. Y/n look back at her with a laugh and shook her head in quick succession.

"They're like my sisters!" Y/n states, which made Hermione chuckle as well. She guessed that made sense since probably being on a ship for months on end would bring them all closer as a family more than anything,

"Also, all of my crew has lads or lasses back home waiting for them to return" Y/n continues as she laid down on the parapet, one leg swung over the edge while her other foot was planted on the stone, and her knee pointed to the sky,

"Be careful, we're high up" Hermione stated as she stepped closer, her fingers twitched as she stopped herself from grabbing ahold of the girl.

They were just one story up, but it was still high enough to break something.

"I've fallen from the crow's nest of my ship, multiple times! This is nothing." Y/n chuckles as she locked her fingers and puts them behind her head as a makeshift pillow.

"I'm guessing you drank one too many pints?" Hermione asks as her eyes scanned the Captain's body.

"See? You're getting to know me so well already!" Y/n replies as they chuckled together.

"Did you land in the water each time? Or have you somehow not died from that yet?" The Princess asks as her hand finally grasped the hem of her shirt.

"Almost all were in the water, but last time I hurt myself real bad" Y/n replies as one hand snuck out from under her head and hooked a finger around the fabric between Hermione's breasts, pulling her closer again.

They weren't hiding anymore, this was a dangerous position to be in, but maybe that was the point.

Was Y/n trying to get her shunned from the castle for engaging in scandalous behavior with another woman?

A fucked up way to force her to join her crew?

Hermione suddenly backed away and cleared her throat, pushing down her wrinkles again.

"As entertaining as this conversation has been, I must go back to my party" she sighs as her chin went back to being high and mighty, and her back as straight as a wooden beam.

"Do you have to?" Y/n asks as she sat back up, causing Hermione to smile. Her childlike questions were almost begging, like she truly didn't want Hermione to walk away.

"I must, it is my birthday party after all" she replies and Y/n hums as she thought of an excuse for her to stay just a little bit longer.

"Just answer one more question," Y/n asks to which Hermione raised her eyebrow in return as the Captain stood back in front of her.

"Will I see you tonight?"

They stared at one another for a few moments, the air around them was chilly, but a slight heat seem to burn between them.

Hermione then just walked away.

That told Y/n that it wasn't a 'no', but it wasn't a 'yes' either.

She wondered what went through that beauty's mind, and if she knew that she had easily gotten a stoic sailor on her toes.

——————

When Y/n had arrived back at the port with no one in tow, Ginny gave a loud sigh from the deck of 'The Morrigan'.

"Captain on deck!" Ron yells near the bow of the ship.

"Is she-" she starts but the Captain quickly raised her hand in a 'stop' gesture and grabbed the lantern that hung near the entrance of her quarters.

"She still has an hour until her crowning, which I told her we will leave at exactly then also," Y/n says as she handed Ginny the lantern, and smiled at her irritated expression.

"What does that even mean?" the ginger replies as the sounds of her twin brothers echo from the crow's nest.

"Look at that whale Freddie! Looks like your ex-girlfriend!"

It was funny to think that half her crew was just the entire Weasley family.

"Just keep this lantern lit as you do your patrols around the deck" Y/n states as she patted the girl's shoulder and disappeared into her quarters.

As the door shut behind her, a soft groan came from her lips as she grabbed her hat from the hook on the wall.

Placing it on her head, she took a seat at her desk and began looking at the new inventory report.

Molly has requested more fruit cabbage for her kitchen, while Draco has asked for a new pair of boots. Harry needs new glasses, and Blaise needs to go to the blacksmith and sharpen his swords.

Y/n felt a headache begin to form as she tried to figure out a way to get everyone these things. This kingdom had almost everything, but she would have to dig through the old navigator's journal entries to find out where they got Harry's glasses the last time he broke them.

She needed help, and she didn't know how to ask for it without looking vulnerable in front of her crew. Y/n was only one person, and she needed someone as sophisticated as Hermione.

Granted, Y/n still planned to make Hermione hers, but that would have to wait.

Minutes went by quicker than she had realized as she scanned through the reports of everything below deck. She eventually noticed that it was ten to twelve.

"Come on Hermione" Y/n whispers as she stood up and walked back onto the deck.

"Begin preparations for departure!" Y/n yells out as a chorus of 'Ayes' rung out around her.

Ginny still stood near the walkway with the lantern in hand as she stared out into the town, which seemed devoid of life if it wasn't for the castle that was lit up like a fireworks display.

"I don't think she's coming" Y/n whispers as Ginny just hummed.

"You've always been so quick to judge" she replied as her eyes flickered towards different corners of the streets that stood in front of her.

"Ready Captain!" Percy states from his post as he stood at the stern with his hand on his pistol.

Percy always seemed to know when trouble was headed their way, it was almost like a gut instinct for him to grab his weapon.

"There she is" Ginny chuckles as she tapped Y/n's chest with the back of her hand.

Y/n's head snapped to find Hermione bolting down the street towards them, she now wore pants and a shirt instead of the beautiful white dress she had been given earlier in the day.

The Captain quickly made her way to the walkway, but soon noticed that she wasn't just running to get to them in time. Y/n heard the yelling of guards and began to smile.

"Once she's on the ship, time to go!" Y/n called as Draco took ahold of the wheel, and barked orders at the boys on the deck.

Hermione caught the Captain's eyes as she dashed down the dock towards them, and smiled at her, to which Y/n broke out in a grin in response.

"Come on Princess! We don't have all night!" Y/n teased as she held out her hand for her to take across the board between land and ship.

As soon as their hands grasped one another's, Y/n yanked her on deck and let Ron and Harry quickly pull the wood onto the ship as well.

"Full sails! Get us out of here!" Y/n yelled as the woosh of the sails fell and took in the wind of the sea.

Tens of hundreds of footsteps pounded on the dock as they pulled away, one guard had managed to jump and grab the side of the ship, but Pansy was able to just lean over and wack away his hands with the butt of her sword.

He didn't fall into the water at first, but her threat was able to make him choose his fate.

"Let go, or I'm chopping them off"

He quickly dropped into the cold unforgiving ocean.

Y/n darted towards the stern as The Morrgian began to take speed and drift off into the night.

She watched as hundreds of guards stood at the docks watching as their future queen ran off with one of the most hated pirates in the seven seas.

"I'll kill you Y/l/n!" A man yells from his place in the troops, from the crown on his head, she hadn't had to guess that he was King Granger.

"Well, that's one way to make a first impression on the crew!" Ginny snickers as she greeted Hermione on the deck.

"It would have been a lot calmer if my father hadn't caught me sneaking away" she replies as she put her back into a ponytail with a few hairpins she had left in her pockets.

"We'll have an introduction party tomorrow, right now Hermione and I need to begin setting a course for the West Indies" Y/n joked as she made her way back to the deck, Hermione stumbled slightly as the ship swayed side to side.

"Don't worry Princess, you'll get your sea legs eventually" the Captain snickers as she gestured to her quarters, and held out her hand for Hermione to take for stability.

As she took it, Blaise began to sing a chantey proudly, to which the crew joined in as well as they began their Mundane chores around the ship.

Y/n shut her door behind them, muffling the ruffians, as Hermione took in the beautiful books and maps that were scattered around.

"These are beautiful" Hermione whispers as she walked around the space with so much intrigue.

"I would hope so, since you'll be living in here" Y/n states as points to another desk that face the window that looks out into the sea behind the ship. A small bed lay next to it, almost looking untouched since its last owner as many books and papers were scattered around the space.

She could see her home fading away as they drifted away further.

"Wait, the Captain and Navigator share the same room?" Hermione asks as she turned back to find Y/n suddenly standing almost face to face with her.

"Of course, you're my right hand now" she mumbles as her eyes flickered around Hermione's face.

"If there wasn't already evidence of this cot being lived in, I would think you had done this on purpose" Hermione chuckles as Y/n brushed past her and took a seat at her desk.

"We could always push our cots together? Make this space very lived-in" Y/n suggests as Hermione stood in front of her, the only thing separating them was the desk of the captain.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" the former royal asks as she leaned down and restart her hands upon the wood.

"Certainly, I like to have my treasures close by me" Y/n whispers as she herself leaned closer, and like earlier in the night, they stared at one another intensely.

Hermione smirked and brushed her nose against hers in a teasing manner.

"You think of me as one of your treasures?" she replies in a hushed tone as she heard a soft shudder come from the sailor.

"Yes, I've caught myself a princess after all" Y/n mutters as Hermione pecked the corner of her mouth.

She was using her tricks.

"Did you? Or did I catch myself a Captain?"

Y/n's grin found a home on her lips once more for the night, before being wiped away with a kiss from Hermione.

The captain saw stars behind her eyes that were more beautiful than the ones in the sky.

The poor Captain tried to chase after another one as she backed away with a mischievous smile.

"As fun, as it is to fool around with you, we do have work to do" Hermione states as she walked towards her new desk, her hand squeezing Y/n's shoulder as she went by.

Hermione could feel eyes burning into the back of her head as she sat down and took a book from one of the piles.

"If you want more, you have to woo me, my Captain," she says as she whispers the last part in a sultry tone.

Even though her decision to betray her country was almost just for the fact to see the world, she also knew a part of her wanted to see how a flirty Captain would treat her during their months at sea.

She knew sooner or later she would allow herself to be taken into the Captain's arms and ravished behind closed doors.

Yet, she still wanted to be treated like a proper lady, and it was going to be fun to watch an urchin like Y/n try her best at it.

Hermione could only chuckle as she heard Y/n walk out to the deck and begin asking questions about dates to her crew, having left the door open slightly.

This is going to be fun.

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 17 days

Text

Under Way

Thalassophile (Sea Lover) AU

Here have 3k i have more written but eh I'll save that for later

Thalassophile: noun. (plural thalasophiles) Someone who loves the sea

For as long as he could remember Jay had dreamt of the sea.

Laying back on the beach with the waves rushing past him and then receding again with the tide. Sand wet and clinging to him, stars bright above him.

The funny thing was that he’d never been to the sea.

His life was about as far away from it as you could get. In the middle of the city, dryer than the dust of the desert next to it. There were no pictures of the sea in their house. There were no books or movies about the ocean. He didn’t realize it until he was older how strange it was that the only water in the house came from the taps.

He remembered being ten and turning on the tap just to watch the water run until his mother had come in and switched it off, scolding him for something he didn’t understand. He remembered pausing on his way to school to watch the sprinklers that had gone off. He remembered sneaking outside the apartment during a rainstorm just to tilt his head up, letting the rain fall on his face and soak his clothes as the lightning reflected in his wide eyes until his father had pulled him back inside.

Jay didn’t consider himself a weird kid. No more than the regular kind of kid-weird at least. He did well in school, he was smart, he enjoyed being around people, he was well-spoken (or so his teachers told him,) and he made friends easily. Sure, life wasn’t perfect, there were bullies here and there, family drama, money issues, struggles finding a job, struggles picking what to study, a couple medical scares but he managed alright. He was normal.

Unless it was raining.

Or there was a fountain near the museum.

Or the tap was running.

He couldn’t stop staring.

He ended up studying Marine Biology in college.

“What made you pick that?” his mom asked, worrying at her thumb, chewing on the nail there.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You’ve never shown interest in that before. You like building things don’t you?”

“I mean… yeah but…”

“...but?”

I want to be near the sea.

But she looked worried so he didn’t say that.

“If you’re going there you should at least be doing something you enjoy.”

He enjoyed building things. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do the marine biology courses, his parents just knew he preferred to work with his hands a little more than that. They sat him down and they talked about it and in the end he swapped to marine engineering. He packed his bags and gave his mom and dad a hug goodbye and moved near the sea.

And so, at 22 years old Jay set foot on a beach for the first time.

///

Well, first off… he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

It was 4am. The sun was just beginning to rise. There was a chill in the air that lingered through his thin sweater. The smell of salt greeted him on his inhale, familiar despite never having met his lungs before.

His shoes were closed-toed. It was cold out. He wasn’t sure he should, but before he knew it he was plopping down on the sand and dropping his bags to wrestle his shoes off.

Once his feet hit the sand it felt right. Cold damp sand between his toes, yet to be warmed by the sun. He wanted to roll in it. More than that though--he turned his gaze to the horizon--he wanted to touch the ocean.

It was a feverish sort of speed that came over him. He stumbled over the beach, kicking up sand and leaving his things behind him.

He came to a halt just before the tide could touch him and stared down at the line where wet sand met dry for a long while.

He took one breath. Then another. And he stepped in.

It was shockingly cold. Cold enough to hurt. His teeth chattered just from the short contact alone, but he kept going. His ankles were engulfed quickly. His plan was to stop there. His pants were rolled up just above his ankles with that in mind, but he found himself taking another step. And then another one, faster, faster, faster still--

He was up to his chest and gasping for breath. The beach sand was harsh on his feet. The cold was even harsher. The waves leapt up to touch his face. He tasted salt.

“Hi,” he gasped out. And then, “I’m back” even though he’d never seen the sea before.

A wave hit him in the face.

///

He made it back, soaking wet and shivering hard enough to make his teeth chatter and rattle his skull.

“Whoah--dude? You’re soaking wet--”

“Thanks m-man, I didn’t n-n-notice.”

His roommate ran to get him a towel.

“You fall in or something?” he asked, snorting at the sight of him bundled up in as many towels as he could get his hands on.

“No,” Jay bit back. And then he decided against elaborating since he technically had walked in of his own free will and he had a feeling that would be the quickest way to get made fun of.

“Anyway,” his roommate continued, “I’m glad you could make it. A day later and I would’ve gotten kicked out.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Let's just say, both me and our landlord are glad that you’re here.”

“Well it’s n-nice to meet you in p-person finally.”

“Yeah, back at you dude.”

///

Kai was weird.

But it was like… Weird like Jay was weird. He’d wake up early some mornings to sit out on the porch and stare at the water before anyone else was at the beach.

“What are you doing out here?” Jay worked up the courage to ask one evening after a meal of ramen and slightly burnt eggs.

“I dunno,” Kai shrugged. “I like the beach.”

“Huh,” said Jay. “Me too.”

“Cool,” Kai grinned with all his teeth. “Race you out there.”

It was just as shockingly cold as the first time.

///

Jay spent most of his free time by the water.

Breathing in the smell, letting it wash over his feet, usually getting his pants wet.

“Look, I drew you.” He turned his notebook--one he was supposed to be using to work on blueprints--out to the sea. “Not my best work. But you’re hard to do justice, y’know?”

The waves lapped at his ankles.

He gave into the urge and tucked his notebook into his backpack so he could lay down on the shore staring up at the sky. It was still light out, too early for the sun to dip beyond the horizon, but it still felt familiar like his dreams. As if he’d done this a million times before.

“It’s weird, y’know? I could be doing anything else but I’m here.”

The sea had no reply.

///

Jay caught a ride out on the fishing boat Kai worked on.

“Watch your head!”

Jay ducked just as Kai flung rope over him to another man on the boat.

Honestly as long as he stayed out of the way it wasn’t so bad.

He was soaked to the bone less than two hours in. But land was out of sight and it was him and the sea so he didn’t mind.

The waves crashed against the side of the ship every now and again and he reached out so the splashes would be able to brush his fingertips.

“You’re not so bad,” he said.

The water moved slowly, almost like it was reaching up the side of the ship for him. He didn’t realize he was leaning over the rail until his hands slipped.

He went into the water headfirst.

It was weird. He couldn’t tell which way was up but he didn’t feel afraid of the drowning bit.

Kai’s hand on the back of his jacket yanked him out of the water.

“ARE YA INSANE LAD?” the captain roared at him.

“Sorry,” Jay spluttered. “Sorry, lost my balance.”

“Sorry, man,” Kai told him once they were back home. “I don’t think he’ll let you on the boat anymore.”

“It’s fine,” Jay muttered. “I get it.”

He got his own boat.

A little rowboat. Rickety. Odd. Chipped and peeling paint. His.

He took it for a spin.

It took some practice to get the rowing motion down. Less than he would have expected. Then it really was just him and open water.

He pulled the oars back in the boat and settled down, laying on the bottom of the boat. He listened to the sound of waves on the sides of it.

He woke up when the boat capsized.

He was trapped underneath it for a moment. He was scared then. Having something hard and wooden against his head shoving him further down and under, the water shoving him back up against the boat so he couldn’t push himself out from under.

He was lucky that he managed to get out. Even luckier that, when he coughed out water he didn’t inhale more. He clung to his capsized rowboat, his teeth chattering.

The nature of the sea.

Unforgiving. Special treatment to no one.

Jay couldn’t feel his fingers. He grinned.

“C-can’t get rid of me th-that easy.”

Another wave dragged him under.

///

He remembered chubby little hands touching seashells. Collecting them. He remembered stepping foot on a rock and slipping.

Little and confused there was no one to tell him to hold his breath.

Upside down underwater, or maybe rightside up. Dragged under, dragged against the jagged sea floor by an unseen force. Sand and seaweed rushing past his eyes. Water in his lungs.

Coming to on the beach with his mothers distressed face above him and his fathers tears. Coughing up water and being taken back to the house.

He remembered not being able to breathe but not dying.

///

He opened his eyes and he was on the beach.

The waves pushed up next to him, making his hair and clothes float before retreating back to where it had come. He could hear a voice--Kai--calling for him. It was dark. Stars above him.

He coughed up water.

///

“It’s cool,” he told the sea the next day. “I get it. It’d be stupid if I got mad about it, right? You’re just doing what you do. Not like you singled me out or anything. I was just being stupid. So I get it. Just wanted to let you know I’m not mad.” He shivered a bit and tugged his blanket around him a bit tighter. Loose sand tickled his ankles as the waves rose up and then back down.

“I’m Jay,” he said. “Just realized I didn’t introduce myself. My bad. It’s nice to meet you again.”

Again?

He huffed a laugh. “I keep saying stuff like that. Weird right?”

He spotted his boat covered in seaweed a few days later, broken and battered and all around unsalvageable.

“Thanks for bringing it back,” he called out to the sea. “I appreciate it. Would’ve been nice if it were in one piece, but I get it.”

He found another boat.

“You’re crazy, man,” Kai said.

“Yeah,” Jay admitted. “Maybe a little.”

“Don’t be stupid this time.”

“Who’s crazier, me for going out, or you for letting me?”

Kai threw back his head and laughed.

Never did answer.

Jay tucked his oars back after rowing out far enough. Still close enough to the shore to be seen if he capsized again.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s try this again.”

He lowered himself into the water this time. He kept a firm grip on the side of the boat. Cold. Cold cold cold cold. His teeth chattered.

He stayed like that for a little bit. Then when he started to lose feeling in his fingers he decided that was good enough.

He realized quickly that getting back into his boat was another matter. Every time he tried to pull himself up, he’d nearly end up pulling the boat over to capsize it.

In the end he had to swim back, halfway on the boat half off.

Kai was waiting at the shore for him.

“You’re stubborn.”

“I didn’t see you launching a rescue mission.”

“Eh, I think you were fine.”

Jay sneezed.

Kai grounded him to bed for the next three days while he recovered from his very aggressive cold.

“No more swimming,” he told him. “Just wait till summer, man.”

“Right,” Jay said, his teeth chattering. He sneezed.

///

Summer.

It was so long away.

“Don’t take it personally,” he said as the water washed around his feet. “I really would like to head out and spend time with you. I’m just very much a human person. I can’t do cold for very long. Besides, I’m pretty sure Kai would kill me if I tried that again.”

He lasted about a week. Which was pretty good for Jay, he thought.

He waited until Kai was asleep and then took the boat out on the still, calm, midnight waters.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Kai hit him with an oven mitt when he got back inside.

“You have a problem.”

Jay thought of dipping his fingers into the sea and touching the stars.

“Yeah.”

There was a strange sort of tightness in his chest.

Jay built his own boat. He hooked up a motor to it. Used scraps he collected from shipyards. It kept him busy and distracted him from the fact Kai had hid his boat.

///

“I’m just taking it out for a spin.”

“You’re an idiot,” Kai said. “You know the ocean like… doesn’t care if you like her right?”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna drown.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Kai stole his motor. Jay cursed himself for not bolting it down to the boat early enough.

“I don’t know what his problem is,” he vented to the poor unsuspecting cashier at the small convenience store. By now they were on a first name-basis. Stiix wasn’t a big town to begin with. Everyone at least knew of him by now. “There was nothing wrong with me testing out my ship.”

“...Haven’t you almost drowned like… eight times?”

“Four,” Jay corrected him. He sniffed. “Technically three. Kai pulled me out the one time before anything happened.”

What he got in return was a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I think you’re both crazy.”

“I’m going to ignore the insult and thank you for agreeing with me. What kind of person just steals a boat motor?”

“I wasn’t talking about that. You seem a lot like him.”

“Who?”

“Kai.”

“I don’t see it.”

“It’s there.”

“I’m choosing to ignore the comparison as I am currently upset with him. See you, Ben.”

“You should ask him how many times he’s almost drowned,” Ben called after him as he left the store.

///

“Twenty-six.”

Jay stared at him.

Kai chewed his sandwich. “Twenty-seven if you count the bathtub incident, but I don’t. I just fell asleep--”

“And you’re getting after me for three?”

“Four,” Kai corrected. “You’re stupid about it. And also I’ve lived here for six years. You’ve only been here for like two months. Comparatively, I’m doing better than you.”

Jay spluttered. “How many times has your boss almost drowned?”

Kai shrugged. “I dunno, three?”

“How long has he lived here?”

“Not sure. His whole life, I think.”

“You’re doing terribly actually,” Jay told him.

“Yeah well,” Kai said, tossing his knife in the sink, “I’m weird.”

Jay caught him outside one morning when he stumbled from the bathroom at 3am, sitting on the beach. Jay paused at the window and stared as Kai reached in a way that no one would be able to see unless they knew what they were looking for, letting the waves rush over his fingers as they reached up the shore.

Six years. Kai was only a year older than him. That meant he’d moved to Stiix when he was seventeen. He lived alone. He never mentioned any family. Jay wondered if he spoke to the sea too.

“You’re weird,” Jay said at lunch later when Kai had gotten back from fishing.

Kai nailed him in the face with a balled up towel.

///

Jay got out on open water about a week later. He finally had the new motor hooked up (and bolted down as anti-Kai-theft measures.) He waited until his roommate was asleep and then pushed it out onto the water. He rowed for a bit, until he was far enough out that his engine wouldn’t wake anyone, then he started it up and took off over the water at full speed.

He only almost fell off like twice while he was figuring out how to keep his balance.

He found a little cove as the sun started to rise and anchored his boat before slipping out onto the fine sand.

Looking back, going swimming alone in a secluded little cove at 4am was a bad idea.

It was fine for the first ten minutes. He had a wet suit so the cold was slightly more manageable. The water was nice. Small waves, mostly calm.

Then he went to investigate and an undertow got him.

Being dragged along the floor of the cove really was not ideal. It went from rocks to sand to coral surprisingly quickly as he was thrown out, tumbling head over heels, salt water stinging his eyes and nose. It was everything he could do to keep his mouth clamped shut. If he could just manage to push off something and figure out which way was up--

Then his foot got jammed into coral.

The good news was, he figured out which way was up. The bad news was that he couldn’t get there. He pried at the coral with his hands trying to yank his foot out without success. He scrabbled for something to smash it with and found nothing bigger than a lime. The need to breathe hit him all at once. Aggressively. His mind and body screaming at him.

He closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears.

He was actually going to die.

Stupid, he could almost hear Kai’s voice echoing in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter for just a moment, and then let them crack open again, because, if he was going to die, he at least wanted to die looking at the sea.

There was a face two inches from his face.

He gave a startled yell that came out in a flood of bubbles and he slapped his hands over his mouth. Dark black dots were starting to creep in at the edges of his vision. But he stared with wide eyes and it stared with wide eyes back. It could be mistaken as shadows cast through the churning waters above him. It was there but not. It was blurred but it was there, Jay knew it was there. It was like looking at a storm, a mountain, a ten story wave curling above you preparing to crush you in your little rowboat. It was knowing on a gut level instinct that you were looking at what could only be described as a force of nature.

A current pulled him back, away from it, and he realized then it was a lot bigger than just a face. Light seemed to wobble, twist and reshape into something so much bigger and just as terrifying. It wrapped around him, engulfing him like wings. Its eyes were bigger than his head

He blacked out.

///

When he came to, he was back on his boat, drifting in the middle of nowhere.

He sat up, gripping his at his chest, that same anxiety and primal fear lingering from the hallucination that didn’t feel like a hallucination at all. It felt real. It felt so real.

He looked out ahead of him. There was no land in sight. He had no idea what time it was or what direction he’d come from or how he’d gotten back into his boat. He glanced down at his ankle, bloodied and bruised and swollen. Pieces of coral were still dug into it.

The sea was utterly still.

A drop of water landed on his nose.

He glanced up at the sky to find it cloudless, but obscured all the same, by water. Water stretching up over him at an unbelievable height and remaining still. Water that had a shape and a face of a creature, staring down at him. Something that very much resembled a dragon.

Jay’s breath stuttered to a halt in his chest.

He wheezed.

#LEGO Ninjago #ninjago #jay ninjago #jay walker #jaya #writing this for the dynamic and less for the ship #Thalassophile (Sea Lover) AU #KNOX WRITES (me)#not sure what else to tag this so tadah #this is unedited and written in like two sittings so forgive the... everything. enjoy )!

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em-mermaid · 1 month

Text

One Last Catch

a dredge inspired au for @grumboweek! (also on ao3, please mind the tags)

-----

A small dredging boat sits, alone, rocking in the tall waves of the deep ocean. On the boat is a single fisherman. He hums to himself as he casts his net into the sea.

The sun had set many hours ago, sinking below the horizon and leaving space for a deep blanket of fog to take its place. The moon and stars seem to cower, slinking away as if afraid of what lies beneath.

The fisherman simply hums.

He secures the nets to their hooks and goes about organizing the day’s catch. There are a few small crabs he picked up on the way out of the bay that morning. Or was it yesterday? He shakes his head with a chuckle. The days sure blend together when he’s at sea. He pushes the crabs to the side of the hold.

There are a few smaller fish as well, some standard catches for this part of the ocean. They might be unimpressive, but at least he can get a fair amount of coins for them. He hefts them up, one at a time until they are more securely placed in the hold. He needs to make room for this final catch, after all.

Finally, he turns to the odd one of the bunch. Although the size and type of this particular specimen is unremarkable, its appearance is anything but. Everything about it screams wrong, wrong, wrong. Its eyes bulge. The fins sit askew and the tail is bent at an angle that’s anything but normal. A blue slimy substance creeps its way across and under the scales and leaves a residue on his hands when he shoves it against the other fish.

He suppresses a shudder and wipes the slime onto his trousers. Its dead eyes seem to be piercing into his soul, all knowing. A creature that knows the depths can look back.

The boat lurches.

Water sprays over the side, drenching him and the deck. The fisherman scrambles up, rushing to secure the door of the hold before any of his fish can be reclaimed by the sea. The hull creaks and moans as whatever is in the net fights back. A wide grin breaks out across his face. It seems the wait for one final catch was worth it after all.

The mechanisms holding the net struggle against the weight of whatever creature has found its way into his possession. When it breaks the surface it writhes in its confines. It is mostly black with trails of white along its body, and the many tentacles lead him to assume it is a new type of squid or maybe octopus. He hauls it onto the deck with a grunt.

Up close, the tentacles look in bad shape. Some have been caught in the net and bleed weakly onto the deck, others are covered in the same blue slime as the corrupted fish in the hold. His eyes scan up the creature and—

It has a face.

All fish have a face of course, but this one. It’s not a face he was expecting. This one looks far too humanoid. The eyes are dark and panicked, as it struggles to breathe in the open air. Its face is white, pale as is expected of a deep sea creature. But the thing that catches the fisherman’s attention the most is the dark mustache shaped pattern under its nose. Something far too familiar.

Something scarily familiar.

Something he thought he had lost long ago.

He feels frozen at the sight. The noises the creature makes begin to sound far too close to human. It’s hurt, dying maybe and all he can do is stare.

It can’t be. Surely. His partner had drowned years ago. Taken by the sea. And yet this creature of the depths shares his face. The ocean wouldn’t be so cruel, would it?

In the time that he’s been frozen the creature had slowed, breathing appearing to shift to accept air instead of water. It seems aware.

It looks up and they lock eyes. Grian sucks in a breath. It can’t be. But maybe it is?

“Mumbo?”

#grumboweek #daysixprompt #grumbo #hermitshipping #hermitfic #body horror #not in any great detail but just be aware it's in there #mermaid writes

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written-in-flowers · 9 months

Text

Disillusionment: Hongjoong x Reader

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 16k

AU: futuristic!au, rebellion!au, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers again.

Genre: Angst (lots of it), tiny microscopic bits of Fluff

Summary: During her career as a Lieutenant of The People's Republic, Hwang YN has witnessed things she'd rather forget and learned things about those she served. On the day of her ex-boyfriend's execution, she must decide if she really is fighting for the right side.

Warnings: disabled!reader (she is missing her left ear and eye, and has a bionic leg), PTSD, graphic depictions of violence, guns, war, descriptions of poverty, mentions of child trafficking, general injustice, corrupt people being corrupt, assassination attempt, and conspiracy.

A/N: This is my EXTREMELY LATE entry into the Outlaw: The Project collab I did with @ssaboala and several other lovely people. My entry is for our beloved leader, Kim Hongjoong. I hope you guys really enjoy this <3

***

You sat in the meadow alone. A sea of grass dotted with purple flowers should be a sight of wonder and awe, yet you found it hard to enjoy. A sight juxtaposed to the bustling, noisy city a few miles beyond, you used to find tranquility and quietness in the meadow. It’d once been a place of safety and gentleness; you could gather your thoughts here, basking in the sun and silence. But, not anymore. Silence only pushes forward things you’d rather forget. Yet, you could not think of anywhere to be but here right now.

They’re executing him today. In a few hours, Kim Hongjoong will be led onto the scaffold in the city center, have a noose put around his neck, and a door will open from under him. You squeezed your eyes shut at the image in your head. Hongjoong, with his determined, defiant eyes glaring at the painted faces of the city people, standing proudly on the scaffold. He won’t cry. He won’t give President Yoon the satisfaction. It’d been the same back in The Academy. Whenever an instructor or commanding officer gave him a near impossible task, hoping to break him, he never let them see the strain. It was why they liked him so much; why they spoke so highly of the soldier who never backed down, who did not accept failure as a result. Hongjoong had once been Prestige Academy’s brightest star, with a shining military future ahead of him. But, one terrible act changed all of that.

‘No, YN. I’m not going back.’

‘Hongjoong…’

‘This ‘Republic’ has gone too far. Look around you, YN. These people have done nothing to us. They’re innocent.’

‘They are aiding the rebel forces. They’re not innocent.’

‘Yes, they are! They’re hospital patients. They’re human beings. YN, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. It’s not right.’

‘Hongjoong, no! Please, come back! Come back!’

You fought back the visions in your head. The thick lump in your throat slowly built up remembering that night. You remembered how the heat of the flames mingled with the crisp winter chill; the smell of burning wood and bodies still clung to your nose all these years later. No amount of lifeless corpses, exploding bombs, or screaming women could drown out the one image stuck in your head. He’d removed his helmet, so you saw his cobalt blue hair, his light skin and his eyes. His beautiful brown puppy eyes that melted your heart every time you saw them. They’d looked at you with disgust and shock. They’d torn away from yours with pain and that same determination. The last haunting image was his white uniform gradually fading into the dark night; you recall running after it before being attacked by a rebel fighter. By the time you’d put a bullet in him, Hongjoong was gone. He’d abandoned you in the midst of a raid; he’d turned his back on everything he knew and joined the rebel forces beyond the barriers. He soon enough became their leader, leading a squad dubbed ‘The Pirates’. They gained the name because of their hovercraft bombings on Republic outposts, where they’d then touch down and scavenge whatever they could from wreckage.

He became the ‘Pirate King’, and with one single act imprinted himself in Republic history.

The ping from your wrist broke you from the cruel memory, and you looked at the small watch face to see an incoming call. When pressing the answer button, you prepared yourself for actual conversation today.

“Yes?”

“Lieutenant,'' said Captain Shin, “The execution will be happening in approximately six hours. Preparations for the Victory Parade are starting, and we need you to come down here.”

“What for?”

“You’re in one of the last floats, sir.”

You exhaled deeply. The “Victory” Parade is being called ‘the beginning of the end’ by news outlets. It’ll not only make a spectacle of Hongjoong’s execution, but give the people false hope. What you hated most is that you and what’s left of your team will be “stars” of the show. You preferred to forget your “greatest triumph” and move on with your life, but it seems you won’t get that.

Your mission to capture and subdue Captain Kim Hongjoong cost you lives. Task Force 66 had eight members. After storming the “Valiant'', Hongjoong’s base of operations, only four of you remained. Sitting in the grass, you thought of the admirable, courageous people you’d become so close to be snuffed out in President Yoon’s war against the rebels. Jax, a springy girl who loved explosives and fire power; Jisung, a sharpshooter eager to prove himself; Miyoung, an older woman whose age didn’t stop her from taking down foes twice her size, and brilliant Ryu, a guy you swore had a computer for a brain. They’d died helping you capture Hongjoong. They’d given their lives in service to The Republic.

A Republic that did not care about them.

“Right. Be there soon, Captain,” you replied somberly. “Over and out,” you said.

“Over and out,” said Shin, and you both hung up.

Gingerly, you unfolded yourself from your sitting position and stood up. You gave a small stretch as you gave the meadow one more look. You should put the whole place to the torch. Briefly, you thought of scorching this sacred place to remove all the beauty and memories it held. Memories of you and Hongjoong frolicking in the grass as children; playing and laughing until the sun went down. Memories of days spent under the trees that outlined the meadow, reading or listening to music. Everything reminded you of him. It was as if its taken pieces of him for itself. Every single blade of grass and blossom reminded you of the boy who made you feel happy when you felt like dying. You wanted to burn it all away. If the meadow didn’t exist, then neither would your memories.

You turned away from the meadow and headed back into the small forest at the edge. Moving through thickets of bushes and trees, you let the fresh air and damp earth fill your lungs. You pushed out that night from your mind. Which night? You don’t even know anymore. The night you both met. The night he left you. The night you both met again. All the nights sharing kisses in each other’s arms, whispering words of love and promises of forever. You flushed them from your mind as you found your car waiting on the side of the road. One of the government hovercrafts painted in black with The Republic eagle and olive branches on the hood, you knew you’d be back in the city in less than an hour. The faster you could leave the meadow, the faster you’d leave those memories behind.

Soaring high above the main road, you saw yourself in your windshield reflection. Where you once had a full, unblemished face, you now had a cybernetic eye and ear piece attached. The steel implant started at the crown of your skull and remained fitted to the left side of your face. Pieces of shrapnel and ear splitting blasts caused you to lose sight and hearing; the doctors said you were lucky. The shrapnel from the bomb could’ve lodged into your skull and you’d be dead. Instead, you suffered a ruptured eardrum and your entire left eye. Scarring from the fire stretched like rivers on a map from your eye socket and across your forehead, cheek and jawline. Not the prettiest face, but the new eye came with lots of perks. Infrared vision, night vision, and scope abilities gave you more advantages than the average soldier; you heard pins drop from several feet away with your new eardrum. If one pulled off your denim jeans, they’d find the bionic right leg. One of the few times you ran into Hongjoong after his defection left you with a grievous leg injury that not even the Republic’s medical technology could heal.

‘Yield. Yield now and tell your men to retreat, and I’ll spare you.’

‘I’d rather die!’

‘You can’t win this, YN. We have the upperhand. We have the trains and the sectors. Please, my love, yield and surrender. Please, I beg you.’

‘If you have the upperhand, Pirate King…then I’ll chop it off!’

And so you did. On a field of damaged earth and bloody corpses, you’d pulled out a hatchet from a dead soldier’s head and swung it at Hongjoong. He tried blocking it with a knife, but instead your blade went deep into his wrist. It didn’t completely sever the hand; you remember his screams of pain and wish you could take them all back. You sometimes thought of what it might’ve been like if you had surrendered. Would he have accepted you back? Would you two have grown to love one another again? You don’t know. You hoped he would. He promised forever, hadn’t he?

You snorted as you reached the city gates. Ahead of you, you saw the long line of citizen vehicles below slowly making their way in and out of the silver city beyond the tall gates. In your government issued hover car, you flew to the tops of the walls where official vehicles came and went. Flying between the two sky-high towers, you lowered your window. A guard in black and white stood in the toll booth window, holding out a gloved hand. You handed him an identification card, which he scanned on his computer.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” the man said in a gruff voice, giving a stiff bow.

“Thank you, soldier.”

You’d cried that night. Everyone thought it was the morphine high the doctors kept you on, but it wasn’t. Not entirely. You hadn’t meant to hurt him so brutally, but your own pain overwhelmed you. He’d told you that he’d be at your side forever. You were supposed to move through the ranks together, go into military training together, and maybe settle down to have a family. You’re meant to grow old side by side. He’d said as much the first time you kissed him, sixteen and the world at your fingertips. You couldn’t see yourself being with anyone else; you never loved anyone the way you loved Hongjoong. It was supposed to be forever.

Then, the night the Republic bombed that hospital changed everything. You regretted that particular incident; you’d been a soldier of the Republic, who followed orders regardless of the severity. The people of Sector 5 were housing and aiding groups of people charged with crimes against The Republic. You and Hongjoong were part of Squad 245, a group assigned to put down any signs of dissent in the different sectors. Like every attack, you started with a blanket of bombs that created craters in the ground, blowing up people and crumbling buildings. When the initial attack ended, you touched ground to take down the rebels hiding out there. Hongjoong saw the hospital before you did. He’d seen the fires blazing within, the stone walls collapsing to the side, and people stumbling and crawling from the ruins. Most of those in the hospital were innocent women, men, and children who’d happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You aren’t proud of the harm done that day. 45 people died in that bombing, and more became permanently injured. Everyone around you said they deserved it; they helped rebels escape “Republic justice”. What even is the Republic’s justice? Killing innocent people with nothing to lose? Oppressing those they have deemed beneath him? People they claim need them, when really it is the other way around.

The you back then would hate the person you’ve become now. She’d call you a traitor for thinking such thoughts. But, that little girl in her white Republic uniform doesn’t know about the things she’d end up witnessing. She won’t know about the time she witnessed Republic soldiers kidnapping sector children to sell on the black market to city elites. She hadn’t witnessed the terror and fear those children showed when she stepped into a Republic truck; some of them as young as eleven-years-old. That stupid, blind fool would damn you for shooting each of those soldiers in the head, and releasing those children into the forests beyond. She’d try finding excuses; she’d try to rationalize and justify such horrors because to accept that her precious government is evil destroys everything about herself.

She’d have to admit that Hongjoong was right, and that she should’ve followed him into the cold night.

You flew on the sky lane, and saw the tall triangular building of the military headquarters, nicknamed ‘The Pyramid’, in the distance. You also spotted the long lines of traffic backed bumper-to-bumper. Preparations for the parade meant to precede Hongjoong’s appearance were already underway, with workers setting up streamers, lamp posts decorations, flags, and barricades up and down the street. An irritable sigh escapes your lips when you realize you’ll be in traffic forever. You had places to be. Swerving out of the line and merging into a lower lane, you parked your car in an empty spot by the sidewalk. You’d come back for it later.

The Republic City used to be a place called ‘Seoul’, until the new regime took over decades ago. Towering buildings going high into the sky were decorated with neon lights and advertisements. People crowded the trash-riddled streets, and made it through the general smog created by the hover cars flying high between the buildings. You can’t imagine your city being anything other than what it is now. The people in the sectors beyond the wall think Republic City is a mecca of opulence and beauty; where food is plentiful and everyone is rich. It could not be farther from the truth. Ever since the war began nine years ago, the luxury of Republic City plummeted. Walking through the concrete sidewalk, hands in your jacket pockets, you saw a young man slouched against a brick wall. Seeing his ragged clothing, full shopping cart, and paper cup sitting at his feet, you wished you could show the rebels that they’re not the only ones suffering.

You saw a street food boat sailing a foot above the street. A portly man sat at the side, turning meat skewers over on a blazing fire. Quickly, you caught up to it.

“Hey,” you greeted him, “Can I get two of those?”

The man’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “Hey, you’re that Lieutenant from the TV.”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Wow, you’re a real hero, ma’am,” he said. “I heard about those kids you saved. I can’t believe our government was letting soldiers sell little kids like that. I was really shocked, but they were lucky you came along.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It was to them and their parents. Here,” he picked up two fresh meat skewers, and put them on a paper plate. “Free of charge.”

“Sir, I couldn’t do that to you-”

“-I insist,” he said, pushing the plate closer to you on the counter. “You've done more for us than our own president. Don't worry about it. Besides, it’s Victory Day.”

‘Victory Day’, is what they called it. What victory? You stuck a bill into the tip jar on the counter, bought a drink, and thanked him. You walked up to the young man by the wall, and handed him the two skewers.

“Here,” you said.

His eyes widened at the sight of the two long meat and vegetable sticks. “Wha-Really?”

“Yeah,” you told him, “I’m not really hungry.” You gave him the food, and watched him greedily begin eating them. You noticed what he wore: threadbare clothes that might’ve been flashy and fancy at one point, and leather shoes that were worn out and fading. “What happened?”

He paused, reluctant to answer as he wiped grease from his mouth. “I used to work in the steel industry,” he said finally. “I ran the distribution before those bastard outlaws ruined supply lines and Sector 2 joined the rebellion. I…I lost everything. I can wait for this fucking war to be over,” he washed down the food with the orange drink, then said, “Maybe things will get better, right?”

“Yeah…maybe.” You fished in your pocket for a few bills, and stuck them in his cup. “For some shoes,” you said, “Winter’s gonna be coming soon.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Hey, you’re Hwang YN!” a high-pitched voice said behind you.

You turned to see three young boys standing on the other side of the sidewalk. Each of them wore the soldier play sets the toy stores sold: black “bulletproof” vests with black gloves and helmets. The one who spoke smiled excitedly at you, holding a toy machine rifle across his back.

“You’re the one who captured the Pirate King!” he said, pushing black strands from his eyes.

“I am.”

“That’s so cool!” his friend, red-haired and freckled, said with a smile. “I saw the little movies they played in the theater before the real movie started. They showed you going into that big ship with your gun like this!” he pulled up his own toy gun and made shooting sounds as he waved it around, “And the rebels running away!”

“You really showed them!” the third boy, blond and blue-eyed, said. “They were really scared of you!”

“I guess they were,” you shrugged. “You kids going to the parade?”

“Heck yeah!” said the first boy. “We’re going to watch the soldiers’ march and see the tanks! I want to be a soldier like you one day!”

“Me too!”

“And me!”

You couldn’t help remembering a young Hongjoong saying the same. When you’d both see the soldiers marching on Founder’s Day, he’d excitedly tell you how he’d be one of them someday. You both would be.

“You’ll make great soldiers,” you said, trying to keep the sadness from your voice. “Once you’re trained up at the academy.”

This made all three boys jump excitedly. You high-fived each of them as they ran along the street, pretending to shoot invisible foes down the sidewalk. Moving further down, you watched the city continue to thrive around you. You made a turn down a familiar road towards The Pyramid, trying not to recall walks to headquarters with Hongjoong. You’d both wave down one of the floating street vendors to grab snacks before going to work. Hongjoong always bought the barbeque skewers, which you’d both eat as you walked. You stopped at a crosswalk when a delivery boy waited for the green light. On the side of his trunk, you saw the local news lines running through a screen.

‘Pirate King Captured! War’s Ending in Sight!’

You remembered that today is meant to be a celebration. People filled the streets below, dressed in their best and preparing for the parties they’ll be having tonight. President Yoon planned to make Hongjoong’s execution a spectacle; it’s meant to symbolize the beginning of the ending. Members of your team still searched for Hongjoong’s crew, who’ve gone underground since his capture. They will be found soon enough, and they’ll also be executed. Once the Pirates are defeated, the rest of the rebellion forces will kneel. Then the Republic could begin to thrive again.

A ringing sound from your ear piece interrupted your thoughts once more. Answering the call, you spoke first:

“YN here.”

“Lieutenant,” it was Shin again, “Are you on the way?”

“Yeah. My ETA is ten minutes. Why?” you passed the delivery boy, feeling his eyes on you but tried not to think about it.

“Because, well…I wanted you to know that the Containment Center contacted me a few minutes ago.”

You froze. “And?”

“It appears The Pirate King has requested to speak with you.”

Every nerve in your body froze. Suddenly, your chest tightened and you stuffed a hand in your pocket. You looked at yourself in the reflection once more, seeing the damage on your face, and asked, “Why?”

“He didn’t give a reason,” he said. “All people headed to the noose are allowed a last request, and his request is to speak with you.” Shin paused, then continued, “It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. He might even beg you for his life like the coward he is.”

“He’s not a coward,” you heard yourself snap at him. “He might be a pathetic rebel scumbag, but he is also a great soldier.”

“Forgive me, sir, but I…” you heard his hesitation, and suddenly the formal voice broke, “He killed Jax. He shot her in the back like a coward. He wouldn’t even give her the respect of killing her face to face.”

Jax. Your heart weighed heavier thinking of the wiry, stringy girl with neon green hair who loved explosives. She joined your team when you needed a demolitions expert, and she came highly recommended. Always smiling and laughing, you’d grown to enjoy her company and Shin had taken to her immediately. They’d been an odd but cute couple, with tiny Jax pushing the tall stern Shin from his comfort zone. Then the Pirates captured a group of Republic troops, and Jax happened to be among them. You’d done everything you could to get her back, but by the time you raided the rebel hideout, Jax and the other soldiers were dead. Shot in the back of the head like livestock. You couldn’t prove Hongjoong did it, but he’d given the order. His men do nothing without his say-so. Much like your own.

Sometimes you forgot not everyone loved Hongjoong like you.

“I understand, Shin,” you replied. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I loved Jax too, but she didn’t die in vain. Because of her explosive lines we uncovered the rebel hideout and discovered their plans to break into The Pyramid through the underground tunnels. She…She was a good soul.”

“She was, sir.” You heard him pause again, then he said, “I take it that you’ll oblige his request?”

You shouldn’t. You should decline it and leave Hongjoong to die without ever seeing your face. After everything that has happened between you both, you shouldn't give him the satisfaction. He left you, so why shouldn't you leave him? You knew if you met him, you'd only end up crying and you cannot be seen leaving his containment cell in tears.

“Yeah," you finally said, “I’ll see him.”

You didn’t know what you’d say to him, exactly, but…You wanted to see him one last time, you guessed.

“Very well, sir. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

You hung up the call and finally reached headquarters. The high wired fence kept a wall between the headquarters to the citizens of the city. Having left your car behind, you walked through the citizen entrance. The guard here wore a black and white uniform, and he nodded when you gave your identification card. You noticed his short, stocky stature, and saw he wore his visor low on his face. You couldn’t recall ever seeing this guard before.

“Where’s Private Lee?” you asked impulsively when he handed you back your card. “He normally does the morning shift.”

“He was ill, sir,” the guard answered back. You’d heard that voice before, you knew you had. “I’m filling his spot until he gets better.”

You saw his name badge, seeing the words 'Kung Shinjin’ with the ‘private’ rank insignia on it. “Private Kung, is it?”

“Yes, sir. At your service.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” you said, “When did you enlist?”

“Two months ago, sir. They transferred me from Sector 2 after training.”

You found that odd, but you didn’t put it at the top of your list. Hongjoong took up too much space in your head.

“Hm, alright,” you said finally. “Welcome to the Pyramid, Private Kung.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You walked up into the white building, and noticed the lack of people inside the main lobby. You guessed everyone’s at the capitol building downtown preparing for the parade and execution. You need to pick up the pace. Shin will no doubt want to talk before the parade begins, most likely to go over itinerary and the parade routes. You told him to keep an eye on them, since Hongjoong’s crew are bound to make an appearance. They'll want to retrieve their captain, and won't hesitate to kill to do it.

Walking into the white and beige main lobby, you noticed two workers near the elevator doors. On a trolley, they rolled tall stacks of boxes towards the steel doors. On one of the boxes you read the name “Sal’s Bakery”. You guessed it was the President’s special celebration treat. He often did this to show appreciation to the military leaders. You expect you’ll have a box waiting on your desk in your office. Walking by them to the opposite elevator, you peeked inside to see dozens of thin white boxes with the bakery logo on them. You saw one worker, a young man with black hair hanging in his face, press the elevator button. The other man with him had short dark hair; both of them wore face masks as required by the Pyramid. A small tinkling caught your enhanced ear, and you saw the second worker drop a ring of keys.

“Oh, hey,” you picked them up, “You dropped this.”

The worker turned to you, but his face mask hid half his face. “Thanks,” he said, taking the keys.

“No problem,” a thought then occurred to you, “Hey, how much to take one of those off your hands? I have a friend in Containment who could use some decent food.”

The two workers shared a look, then the short-haired one said, “Fifty.”

You scoffed at the price, but you supposed that’s what breaking the rules costs. You dug into your pocket for your wallet. You tried not looking at the box or the van for too long. More memories came flooding back to you. Hongjoong chewing on another hot, fresh donut from the box, smiling at a joke you told while you walked to class; him washing it down with a coffee and telling you that you were as sweet as the donuts. He’d always leave you the chocolate frosted ones because he knew how much you liked them. It became a special place for you both before classes. It’s another thing you’d burn down to kill your memories.

You handed the worker the money, and he handed you a box. Opening it, you saw six glazed jelly donuts, still hot and fresh. “Thanks,” you said with a nod and left the workers to their deliveries.

Entering the elevator, you pressed the level 8 button and let the doors close. The Pyramid is twelve stories tall, with General Bok’s office at the very top. The Pyramid was the epicenter of the military base, with housing and training grounds being right behind it nearby. You’re so accustomed to seeing more soldiers here, since the Pyramid is where mostly everyone worked. But, with preparations and security details in place, nearly everyone is at the city center. You honestly preferred it this way. Less people to congratulate you, or tell you how much they admire and support you. What you did wasn’t easy and you never wanted to go through it again. Your eyes landed on the -10 button on the panel.

The Containment Center remained underneath The Pyramid floors starting on ground level and going down ten more floors. The most dangerous or high-profile prisoners remained on levels -9 and -10, so that’s where Hongjoong is kept. You felt the steel box gradually descending, getting further and further from the low levels, and you thought of the time you and Hongjoong had an assignment in Containment.

Your instructor, Major Yoo, sent you to the jails to interrogate a Republic traitor and learn why he’d been caught sifting through a commander’s desk. After intimidating and questioning him, you learned he’d been threatened into the search by a high-ranking officer. When you both passed this information to Yoo, he asked you both what should be done next. You’d suggested arresting the officer immediately, but Hongjoong advised patience. He said they might learn who the officer is working for if they kept surveillance on him. He’d been right. He’d gotten high marks and an award for capturing the traitor, his rebel contact, and the information he’d been passing them.

You were so proud to call him yours.

Your watch pinged again, and you pressed your ear piece.

“Hey Lt,” a smooth voice said over the phone.

“Hey Boggs,” you said. “What’s up?”

“Shin wanted me to tell you that the parade is gonna start soon,” he said, “And to hurry up. You know, because you’re the star of the show.”

You scoffed, “As if. I’m not the one getting executed today. Tell Shin I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“YN…” you heard the seriousness in his voice. Boggs rarely ever used your real name. It was always ‘Lieutenant’ or ‘LT’ or ‘Hwang’. “I know this isn’t the best time, but when this is over and done with, I…I think I’m dropping out of Task Force 66.”

You didn’t ask why or protest. “Because of Sticky?”

“No, because of Jisung…”

Jisung. Another soul lost to Task Force 66’s hunt. The youngest of the whole squadron, he’d become everyone’s little brother. Fresh from the Academy, he had the sharpshooter skills you were looking for; a marksman to rival Jung Wooyoung, best sharpshooter in the entire force. You’d see Jisung make near impossible shots, shoot at multiple moving targets, and never miss once. Sadly, even the far distance couldn’t keep him safe. He’d wanted to impress you, you supposed. He always sought your approval and praise, which you found endearing. “How did I do, Lieutenant?” “Lieutenant, did you see that?! I got him right in the eye through his own scope!”

‘Lieu-Li-Lieutenant, I want to g-g-go ho-home…’

Private Do Jisung died in a battle fighting rebel forces in Sector 8, an industrial area of factories and refineries supplying the capital. You’d learned Hongjoong and his crew would be there, hiding out underneath an abandoned chemical factory, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity. You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing you and Jisung moving side-by-side in the large factory. The grenade came through one of the broken windows, rolling and stopping by a few boxes labeled ‘chemical hazard’ on them. You didn’t have a chance to see who’d thrown it, but you did see Jisung dive right in front of you. The small grenade set off a chain reaction, causing barrels and boxes of flammable chemicals to explode all around you. His legs blown off in the blast, the medic couldn’t get to you because of the raging fires. You remember dragging him through the building, heat and smoke filling your lungs, until you brought him outside. You’ll never forget his ashen face going into shock. He died right there in your arms. The medic wasn’t needed. Jisung was only twenty.

“What about Jisung?” you asked, watching the elevator numbers slowly go down. It’s slower underground. You hated it.

“It’s the officials,” he said. “They told Jisung’s parents he died in an accident, but that couldn’t be right. The factory turned out to be a dead end, remember? Kim and his crew weren’t there, and the place was empty. I only saw one person there, and they got away before I could catch them. Why would they say it was an accident when it wasn’t?”

“They don’t really have proof that the guy you saw was there,” you explained, though something about it sat wrong with you.

“But you saw that grenade go through the window.”

No explanation for that. You vividly recall the small black ball going through a lit up window and smacking onto the floor. You’d heard it seconds before Jisung, who then pushed you out of the way.

"Maybe they don't want to admit we were caught off guard," you finally said.

But you knew the opposite. Something about the entire situation bothered you, and Boggs knew it too. You wondered if Shin suspected the same thing.

"So, you're leaving us then?" You asked, trying not to seem disappointed. "Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know. Maybe get a security post like my dad did. We can talk about that later," he said.

"How's Sticky?"

Pak Sunmi. Quick thinking and tough, she joined your team with four years of service under her belt. Slight and long, Sunmi had many specialties but the biggest was getting into places others can’t. Not only with her good looks and non-threatening appearance, but with the parkour skills she picked up at a young age. You swore she flew through the sky when she ran, jumping and flipping and sliding like the wind carried here. You once joked she must have sticky hands to be able to hold onto surfaces so easily, and the nickname stuck.

During your capture-and-detain mission on The Valiant, Sunmi crossed paths with Jeong Yunho. Him being several inches taller did not stop Sunmi from taking him one on one. You didn’t see the fight yourself, but Boggs had found her lying unconscious in the ship’s upper deck. The hospital medics told you she suffered severe cranial damage, and would need to be kept in the hospital until her surgery wounds healed.

“She’s holding up,” he answered. “Her head hurts like a bitch, and she’s trying to get used to the metal plates in her skull, but she’s good. She convinced the doctors to let her see the parade."

"Is that safe?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not a doctor." He then added, "She said she wanted to talk to you too. Something wasn't right about what happened to Jisung, and she mentioned what happened to her too."

"What do you mean-

‘-Level -7: Containment Center Administration Offices and Directory.’

“I gotta go,” you told him, “I’ll see you later.”

“Alright, Lt. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

You stepped out of the elevator and walked over to a receptionist desk where a young woman with orange corkscrew curls sat typing.

“Excuse me,” you said, “I’m-”

“-Lieutenant Hwang,” she smiled, “Yes, I was told you’d be on your way here. He’s in cell 03 on level 10.” She punched in a few numbers, and a label popped out of a printer on the desk. “Here, scan that in the elevator and it’ll take you further down.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to leave when her voice stopped you. "Um, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah."

She nervously rolled her pencil between her fingers and said, "I just wanted to say…I think you're a real hero."

Her words didn't shock you like they should. "For capturing a well known rebel outlaw, yeah-"

"-No, for what you did for those people in the lower sectors," she corrected. "I had no idea people outside the city suffered so much until I saw them on television. Those poor children…they must've been so scared, and those women…It makes me sick thinking about it. You were so brave to go into that town and do what you did. I don't think I could've done that."

The border town. That's what she's talking about, you realize. You and your squad rode out to a town on a border to refuel and stock up supplies. When you arrived, it was chaos. Women were rounded up like livestock in a pig pen; dead men hung from posts and roof tops, naked and burned. You first thought it'd been outlaws who raided the village, but to your horror, you learned it was a Republic squadron. You confronted their commander, who you discovered initiated the attack. He claimed they'd been harboring rebel soldiers. You saw right through his lie.

And shot him point blank. Just like the other three.

A young journalist hiding in a crate captured the "heroic moment" on camera and survivors of the raid told him their stories. Their suffering at the hands of the Republic opened up the eyes of city citizens, who'd been kept ignorant to the plight of those outside. The news started a string of charity events and fundraisers for the poor, homeless people in the sectors. Being charitable became trendy, and you kept being invited to gala after gala as a speaker. You hated it. You've never been good at speeches. But, the money went to the people who needed it the most. Seeing the sunken faces of starving children curl into smiles as they carried home sacks of oil, grain, and water made the "trend" worth it.

You thought you and the crew would be imprisoned for killing the commander and his men but it never came. In fact, they awarded your squad medals of honor and heroism. General Bok declared the offending squadron as war criminals and deserters of the Republic; a bullet is what they deserved. He proclaimed your squadron personified everything the Republic stood for.

You knew that wasn’t true.

"It was the right thing to do," you shrugged. "Those people weren't the enemy. They were innocent." Much like the people in that hospital. You felt sick all over again.

"I'm glad that at least there are some good soldiers still out there," she said. "Hopefully with The Pirate King dead, the war will end and everything will be alright."

You didn't have the heart to tell her how the war ending meant nothing.

"Hopefully. Have a good day."

"You too."

You went back to the elevator down to the tenth level, pressing your label against the scanner until the doors closed. The government did a good job convincing people that the world will be as it was when the war ends. All their problems will be solved and things will return to normal. You didn’t see how that could be possible. Both sides have gone too far to ever be what they once were.

When the doors opened again, the chill of the underground levels pinched your cheeks. White walls, linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting gave the holding cells a sterilized look. Walking down them, your footsteps made almost no sound, as if the walls absorbed the soft taps instead of bouncing them back. No wonder people went insane down there. You walked past several guards posted at doors or coming around corners, all of them nodding at you when you passed.

High-profile prisoners of the state had large cells locked behind two sets of doors. The first room you entered had a guard sitting behind a desk and another standing ready by the door. With a show of your label, the desk guard let you through. The door guard opened the main door into another small room with a thick, steel door on the other side. He opened this for you, then let you walk into the antechamber.

“Fifteen minutes, Lieutenant,” the guard said, voice muffled by his mask.

“Don't worry. It won't be long. Thank you, soldier.”

He popped open the steel door, and you walked inside. In a room of white, he stood out like a sore thumb. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, The Pirate King looked vastly different from the boy in your memories. Hongjoong’s cyan hair hung over his eyes and undercut on the sides

He had more ear piercings, indicated by the small holes your bionic eye picked up instantly. He wasn't taller, but he'd gotten buff for sure. Years of being on the run and fighting Republic soldiers certainly took their abuse on his body. However, what caught your attention instantly was his left hand. Made of steel plates, you saw the thin wiring between them every time he moved his hand. Since he kept his sleeves rolled up, you saw it went well past where your hatchet cut him. When he turned at your footsteps, he paused. He kept his eyes on your face, stunned and unable to look away. He'd once looked at you that way. At the Prestige Academy Winter Ball, where he told you that you outshone every girl there.

"I know," you said. "Not as pretty as I was at the winter dance."

"You'll always be beautiful to me," he replied, and you didn't see a trace of a lie. Not even when your sensors checked his vitals and pupils. "I didn't do that to you, did I?"

"No. One of Song’s bombs did," you replied. You then lifted your pant leg to show him your metal leg, "You did this." You then looked at his hand again. His screams from that fight echoed in your ears; the blood that spewed and gushed from the wound and his pained cries churned your stomach. "They couldn't fix it?"

"No. Yeosang said you'd cut it almost in two," he said. "Thankfully, he and Mingi made this for me. It's not a shiny Republic model, but it works." He stared at your leg, "You didn't upgrade?"

"I didn't want to."

"Long pants at training?"

"Shorts still. I wanted to inspire my men."

"Like a true Republic Lieutenant." You hated hearing that. Hongjoong noticed this change in you, and said, “Are you not a Lieutenant?”

“I am,” you straightened up.

He eyed you closely, not speaking. You hated it when he did that. It was the look he gave when he interrogated a prisoner, and wanted to read them. You squirm underneath his stare. He didn’t say anything at first, but you knew he would soon. He walked forward and sat a foot away from the glass. You did the same, pushing the plastic chair aside. Leaning forward, you pressed your label to a scanner, and a flap opened.

"I got donuts," you said, pushing the box through the hole to him.

Hongjoong hesitated. He looked between you and the donut box, and you saw his jaw clench. “I thought you might be hungry,” you instantly explained. “If you don’t want them, you don’t have to eat them.”

“No, it’s good,” his expression instantly changed back to a casual one, which threw you off, “Thanks.”

Gingerly, he opened the box and stared inside before picking out a donut. You watched him eat the first once, shutting his eyes and taking in the sweet treat. Your hands curled up into fists as you bit back the lump in your throat again. A vision of a blue-haired boy eating a donut, wearing his white academy uniform, and smiling at you crossed your mind. It plunged a knife into your chest, and you regretted coming here.

“Why did you ask for me?" You asked him, not masking your discomfort at all.

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to be dead in a few hours, and I wanted to see your face," he admitted openly.

"Why?"

"Because I still care about you."

"I was sent to capture you," you said. "I was assigned an entire task force to hunt you down, subdue you and bring you here to your death. I haven’t seen you in three years. The last time I did see you, I nearly chopped off your hand and you severed my leg." Anger festered in your stomach and couldn’t stop it from surging hotly. You leaned in closer to the glass, glaring at him. Why did he do this to you? Why does he still have this effect? You hated the uncertainty. You hated the ‘not-knowing’. "Why did you ask me to come?"

Hongjoong hesitated over his donut, then said, "I wanted to know exactly when a loyalist, a servant of the Republic, lost her faith."

You knew what he meant, but didn't respond.

"The YN I remember would blindly follow any order her superiors gave her," he said. "She did whatever they asked, no matter how morally wrong it was. You…you're not her anymore. I’ve heard about the things you’ve done out there in the field. People I’ve met always mention a Republic woman with one eye saved them, or came to their side when they needed it. A true Republic soldier would sooner shoot a person than offer her hand. So, when did it happen?"

You'd avoided talking too much about it. If you went too deeply, it'd open up things you wanted locked away. You stared at him, arms crossed, and couldn't stop thinking of the little boy who you met at a fancy dinner party years and years ago.

"The kids," you heard yourself say. "I was on patrol with my crew when we came across a supply outpost. We'd finished sweeping out rebel hideouts along sectors 4 and 5, and decided to regroup with others in the area there. The plan was to refuel, restock our supplies, then head back to the camp. I'm there giving cover as my team started refueling when I noticed a black truck near one of the fuel spouts. It had the Republic seal on the side, but it didn't look like any truck I recognized. It reminded me of those supply trucks that come in and out of bases." You took a second, picturing the large truck sitting at the edge of the small camp site. There'd only been one other group there at the time, so it could only have been theirs. "I was walking by it when I…" you gulped thickly, "Heard someone inside." You held yourself tightly. It'd been sweltering hot that day. The humid heat stuck your clothes to your skin, and you thought you might die from the heat. "I saw some soldiers not paying attention, so I used my baton to open the back. They…I saw…I…they looked so small, and so scared."

"The kids?"

"It was boiling in that truck, and the air smelled horrible," you said, gulping the lump in your throat. "They had these water jugs attached to their cages and I saw candy wrappers and chip bags on the floor. They were dirty, tired and hot. One boy looked like he might pass out. I gave him my water, and asked who they were and why they were there. A girl told me soldiers went into their town and killed everyone…and took the kids…I…I couldn't believe they were Republic. I thought the soldiers might be outlaws pretending to be soldiers to get through barricades easier." You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the tears back. Too many things threatened to make you cry, and you wouldn't leave here crying. "I confronted the driver. He didn't even seem scared or bothered. He said that a commander ordered them to round up some kids for an indoctrination process. I had no idea what that meant, and he said I didn't need to know…"

"Indoctrination?"

"It was a lie," you waved it away. "One of his comrades came up to us next, recognized me from the Academy, and told me the truth. He said some big commanding officer gave him and his squad money to smuggle kids into the city. I was…it was sick. I couldn't believe him. I thought he was making it up. I," you squeezed your eye shut as you remembered what you did next. "I shot him. No questions. No comments or concerns. I pulled my side arm out and shot him point blank. I did the same to the driver and the third person on their team."

"Then you freed the kids."

"Then I let them out, yeah. I want to say that this was a one time thing and I didn't dig into it deeper, but I did. I contacted Internal Affairs and they did an investigation. Do you want to know what they found?"

"What?"

"That there was an entire child ring going through our government," you spat in disgust. "Elite officials would contact someone within the patrol squads to go into active rebel areas, kill everyone, and take the children. Then they'd…it was horrible. I thought those responsible would see justice and be imprisoned, but nobody was. The lower level guys were jailed, but not the ones above them. Those people received no consequence at all. Not even after the news came out about it. Nobody was punished. They were let go."

"Republic Justice only applies to the poor," Hongjoong said, "Not the ones meant to uphold it."

"I was disgusted. I'd sworn an oath to uphold and defend the laws put in place by the Republic," you replied. "I swore to protect and serve the people of this country. I bled, I fought, and I killed for this nation, and then to turn around and see the people who made those same oaths breaking them. It made me question myself, and I hate that."

"I know what you mean," he said. "That's how I felt when I saw Republic soldiers shooting wounded people coming out of a burning hospital.”

Your eyes glanced at the clock in the room. It’d been ten minutes already.

“You’re not a bad person, YN,” he said. “Even I know what you did in that little border town. You saved those people-”

“-I didn’t,” you cut him off. “I came way too late to do anything meaningful-”

“-Your little heroic act opened up people’s eyes to what’s going on outside the walls,” he said.

“People only know about it because a journalist happened to capture it live.”

“The things you’ve done since then prove you’re not a bad person,” he said. “The people of the Republic respect and admire you because you genuinely care about them. You see injustice being done and stop it, rather than leave it be. How many of your comrades will say they would’ve done what you did? Not many.” He let your words hang between you, and he finished his donut. “Did they punish you for shooting the guy?”

“No,” you said. “They gave me a medal.”

He snorted, “For killing one of your own?”

“They deemed the squad who did it as war criminals, and said that’s the Republic’s justice at work,” you sighed, shaking your head. “The Republic’s Justice…What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means killing people who don’t comply with their rules or make them look bad,” he said. "It means covering up their tracks, inventing stories and intimidating people into silence."

“I should’ve gon-”

You stopped yourself before the words fully came out. Hongjoong and you both stared at one another. You wouldn’t tell him about all the nights you envisioned having followed him, and being together. “I wish you had too,” he said softly, “But then we’d both be dying and I don’t want that.”

“Even after everything?”

“I never wanted you dead, YN. I still don’t, even if you want me dead-”

“-I was only following orders-”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?”

You hesitated.

“When you found me in the lower deck of my ship-”

“-Is it really a ‘ship’ if it’s on land?-

“-You could’ve shot me on sight,” he pressed on. “You could’ve put a rain of bullets through me, and made up a story afterwards. I wasn’t armed. I wasn’t threatening you. I didn’t put up a fight. Killing me right then would’ve been the easiest part of your day, but when you burst into that room with your rifle trained on me, you didn’t pull the trigger.”

“They ordered me to bring you in alive, and despite my own morals, I follow instructions,” you excused, though this wasn’t true and he knew it.

“It’s pointless to lie to a dead man,” he told you. “If you were only following orders, why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? Hm? You know that there's the high possibility I'll escape or that my public execution could stir up more trouble outside. You can tell anyone who would listen that you’re just doing your job, and you can pretend you’re a loyalist all you want, but you and I both know the real reason you didn’t shoot me.” He pushed the donut box aside and came right up to the glass. The hostility and animosity of the previous minutes softened, making you fall into his big brown eyes like you used to. “And they know it too,” he whispered. “Don’t go to the parade.”

His sudden warning threw you off. “What?”

“Don’t go," he pleaded. "Please. Promi-”

“-Time’s up, Lieutenant.”

“I love y-”

A large hand gripped your arm to pull you up. Your eyes remained focused on Hongjoong. What did he mean? Sudden dread and fear filled your bones. Hongjoong didn’t say anything else, but you saw the tears pooling in his eyes as the soldier pulled you through the chamber door. What was going to happen at the parade? A possible jailbreak could be the only explanation. Perhaps Hongjoong coordinated his capture so that he’d be in the Pyramid, where his forces could strike an assault on the city. He doesn’t want you to be there when the fighting starts, but if he thinks you’ll sit by while it happens, he’s clearly forgotten a lot about you. The soldier roughly pushed you from the main room and back out into the hallway. You gave him one last glare before heading back to the elevator. If Hongjoong’s crew intended to sabotage the parade in any way, people needed to be warned. You tapped the ‘call’ button on your watch, which linked to your ear implant right away.

“Lieutenant,” Shin’s voice came over the line, “The parade is gonna start soon, and I'd like to go over routes before-"

"-How many men do we have on the street?"

"Pardon?"

"How many men are currently on patrol?"

"A hundred or so," he said. "Why?"

"The Pirates are going to be there," you said, punching the ground level button with your fist. Anxiousness sparked the nerves already wiring your body. You watched the numbers begin to climb slowly. "Kim just as good as told me himself. I don't know where they're going to be or what their plan is, but I want those men armed and ready."

"Hold on," it was Boggs, "We're fighting?"

"-Boggs!-"

"-I'm not sure," you continued, impatiently watching the elevator rise from the ground. “I don’t know anything for certain, but I want firepower on the ground.”

“The General said he didn’t want any guns,” Shin managed to gain control of the communicator again. You heard Bogg’s deep voice somewhere in the background, “We’d be defying direct orders.”

“He’ll understand once I explain it,” you said.

Your mind began moving a million miles a minute. You addressed your wrist band and scanned around for the map application. A map of the city projected from the small screen. You saw red lines going through the parade route, lines you yourself drew up. “Captain,” you called Shin, “I want squads one through five scanning the rooftops, and squads six through nine sweeping the buildings. Ten, eleven, and twelve can stick to the city center, and thirteen can surround The President’s car.”

“I’ll get right on it, sir,” Shin replied.

You heard a bit of commotion and grunting before Bogg’s voice came through. “Lieutenant, what do you need from me?”

“Contact the armory and get on the radio channel,” you said, “Tell everyone the news and start getting them geared up.”

“-Damnit, Boggs! Give me my communicator!-

“-And then I want you and Shin to meet me here at the Pyramid,” you told him. “If The Pirates are in the city,” the elevator finally reached the ground floor, “One or two of them are likely to be on the route from here to the city center.”

“You got it, sir,” Boggs confirmed. “Want me to alert Sunmi?”

“She's not in fighting condition. Get moving.”

“Yes, sir.”

You both hung up and pressed the top floor button. Dialing another number in your wristband, you waited until the person answered.

“General Bok Kyungmin’s office, Jalissa speaking,” said a melodic woman’s voice.

“Jalissa, this is Lieutenant Hwang YN,” you told her, “Is General Bok still there?”

“He is, Lieutenant. Would you like me to patch you through to him?”

“As soon as you can, please.”

“One minute, please.”

You curled your hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. Hongjoong's warning rang in your head. If it was an attack, his warning sounded odd. The pitch. The inflection. The way his eyes watered when he whispered it to you. It didn't sound like a threat or an amused warning. He didn't want you to go there. Hongjoong protected you, of course, but he never tried stopping you. He'd go with you. He’d strap on his own weapon to give you cover. Hongjoong, this time, did not want you in the way.

"Lieutenant Hwang," General Bok's raspy voice sounded in your ear, "I just heard your man Boggs over the radio. Is this threat legitimate?"

"I'm afraid it is, sir."

You explained to him that you'd obliged Hongjoong’s last request for a meeting and what he'd told you. Bok listened without interrupting, but you sensed the apprehension on the other end. You told him the plans you put into motion, and your suspicions.

"I figure it is better to be safe than sorry, sir," you finished, standing outside and scanning the area for Boggs and Shin. "If The Pirates are here, whatever plans they have could impact hundreds. I say we issue an evacuation plan."

"No," he said abruptly. "To evacuate at this stage will let them know we're onto them. This might be our best chance at capturing the rest of them."

"Sir, there will be civilians on the street," you said, stunned by his words. "I think we should be trying to avoid as few casualties as we can. If they have bombs, sir, they will kill hundreds."

"And send everyone into a panic?" He said. "There will be hysteria in the streets if we start an evacuation. Keep this news as down low as possible. We don’t want a riot on our hands. Stay at Kim’s side and don’t take your eyes off him.”

“But, sir-”

“-That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

And you always follow orders. “Yes, sir,” you said defeatedly.

“You and the rest of your team go to the Containment exit and escort Kim to the city center,” he said next. “I will meet you there.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up without another word, and you moved into action. The exit for Containment was located behind The Pyramid, in a closed off section that required special permission to pass through. You pressed your badge to the gate, and walked through into a garage of black armored vans and trucks. You relaid the General's instructions to Shin as you found the Containment garage entrance; you told them you'd meet them at the city center instead. Going to an emergency cage, you unlocked the gate and pulled out one of the automatic rifles lined up. Clicking on the magazine, you double checked the safety button, and then slung it over your shoulder. You kept your side arm attached to your thigh, so you only checked the clip for bullets. Your foot tapped as you waited for Hongjoong’s truck; his warning came back to you. Coupled with the General's odd orders, you couldn't stop the unsettlement poking at your nerves.

The elevator doors from the Containment Center opened, and you saw Hongjoong, wrists and ankles chained together, surrounded by four soldiers dressed in black uniforms. You would've thought they were twins with their long bodies and height. They kept their visors down, and guns to their chests. They must've been ordered to shoot-to-kill if Hongjoong tried escaping. Turning around, you faced the two soldiers from earlier. They gave each other a glance at the sight of you, looked at Hongjoong behind them, and then back at you.

"At ease, soldiers," you told them, "General Bok has instructed me to accompany your escort team."

"That isn't necessary, Lieutenant," one of them said. "We can handle him from here."

"I'm not asking," you said a bit firmly. "Let's get him loaded in and move out." When they didn't react, you glared, "I said 'move out', soldiers."

They all exited the elevator and you walked beside Hongjoong.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, unbothered by the soldiers around you both.

"What a Lieutenant is supposed to do when a rebel terrorist warns them of an attack," you answered. "I informed my superiors and put safety precautions in place."

You reached the Containment truck. The President had this truck especially made for prisoners heading for their execution. The size of the usual large vans, the back of the truck is made of shatter-proof glass lined with steel borders. Only the prisoner is meant to be loaded in there with two guards. You intended on being one of them. His men will come for him, and you'd be ready if they did. The two soldiers went to the front seats, while you loaded Hongjoong into the glass cage. Sitting across from one another, your back to the front driver's seat and his to the back doors, you two were once again alone.

"You shouldn't be here," Hongjoong said. "I told you not to come."

"If you think I'm going to let your little pirate friends attack this city," you said, "You've clearly forgotten things about me."

"That's not what I was talking about," he leaned in closer to you. “They’re planning to kill you.”

Once upon a time, you would’ve scoffed and brushed him off. Yet, after seeing how the Republic handles ‘problems’, you hesitated before speaking. “You’re lying,” you decided. “You’re trying to throw me off, and it’s not going to work.”

“When have I ever lied to you, YN?” he asked you, eyes pleading with you. “Your friend, Jisung? The one who died in that factory explosion?”

You glared, “What about him?”

“The intel you received about that place wasn’t real,” he said. “We were never there. They told you to go there because they hoped you’d die in the explosion they set up.”

You thought back to the factory, a building made of stone and wood, full of plastic and wooden crates and barrels of hazardous chemicals. Back then, you simply thought whoever owned the factory left behind the materials. Yet, truly digging into your mind, you never heard of a business not completely gutting out their factories or warehouses. They might have abandoned equipment, but not materials, especially expensive and rare ones. Then, you recalled the little click and thump that happened seconds before the explosions. You remembered Boggs telling you about the person he’d seen.

“You blew up that factory,” you said, frozen in place in your seat. You hardly noticed the truck reaching the gates.

“You really think I did that?” he sneered at you. “My crew might be known for blowing stuff up, but we don’t do it pointlessly. If I bomb a place, it’s for a specific reason. It’s to make a statement. We had no reason to light up that factory. It was in the middle of nowhere, abandoned, and useless to anyone but the homeless. We would’ve wasted our resources blowing it up.” He paused, “He wasn’t the target. The building wasn’t the target. You were.”

He let the words hang between you for a few seconds before the truck stopped at the main gate. He must be lying.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean for your comrade to die, but these things happen in war.”

He never lied to you. Not a single time. No matter which side you move to, Hongjoong never lies. Meanwhile, your government lied countless times. You didn’t want to show him any uncertainty. The clear truck finally made its way onto the streets where people lined the sidewalks. Several of them saw Hongjoong, and you saw the hard glares and the objects they threw at him as it passed. You heard muffled jeers through the glass, people thankful that he is going to the noose. Yet you couldn’t help notice the few people who recognized you sitting in there with him. They waved their Republic flags, beamed brightly at you and called out your name. Students from Prestige Academy still in their crisp white uniforms, jumped up and down to get a tiny nod from you. Your heart fell into your stomach. They had no idea.

“They love you more than they hate me,” Hongjoong smiled slyly. “I wonder why that is?”

“Shut up,” you said quietly.

“Could it be that they see you as a hero?-”

“-I said ‘shut up’, inmate-”

“-That they see you as someone who gets things done?-”

“-What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand?-”

“-Unlike our president who sits back and does nothing to help his suffering people? The same president who sat by as officers violated and abused innocent children? The same man who did nothing to punish those responsible for dozens of raids on border towns where innocent women, children and men were slaughtered like animals?” He leaned forward, eyes locked on you. “The person whose reputation you tarnished when you shot those soldiers?”

It made sense. You hated to admit what Hongjoong said could be plausible. You’ve seen what happens to those deemed enemies of the state. You watched several executions of people who may have shed a bad light on the president specifically. A lieutenant who uncovered disturbing, disgusting truths about him and his officials could very much be next. But why didn’t he simply have you arrested? The answer came to you through the people on the street. A woman on the street holding a magazine with your whole face on it told you why. She held your face. Not Yoon’s. You thought of the vendor from this morning.

��You’ve done a lot more for people than Yoon for sure.’

“He’s in his mansion,” Hongjoong continued, “Gorging himself on delicacies that people could only dream of eating. He throws these grand parties at his home while people all around him struggle to put shoes on their kids’ feet. He could stop this war at any point; he could call a cease-fire and discuss negotiations with the leaders, but no. He lets it continue because he’s secretly being paid by war profiteers who are reaping the benefits of this ongoing war. He doesn’t care about the poor. He only cares about the rich,” he then said, “The people saw you defend those who needed you, and they saw that their leaders wouldn’t do the same. You wouldn’t use their hard earned tax money to have all this fan fare over an execution. You’d put a bullet in my head and call it a day.”

“It’d be cheaper, for sure.”

“Do you read the papers at all?” he asked.

“I’m not always near a newsstand.”

“President Yoon’s public approval went down by 15-points when the news about the kids came out, and when people saw nothing was being done,” he said. “It went down even further when people learned what was going on in the sectors outside of here. People saw him doing nothing about it, and lost trust in him.” He gazed over your face, eyes landing on your lips before going to your eyes, “They saw you at those border towns, giving food to starving kids, and saw someone who can be a leader.”

“I’m not a leader.”

“Yes, you are, and they don’t like that.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said. “You’re trying to get me off my game. You’re using this to distract me so when your men show up, I’m not fully aware of it.”

“You know I’m telling the truth,” he said.

“Where did you even get this information?” you asked irritably.

“Yeosang came upon it a few weeks ago,” he replied. “When he hacked into the intelligence main frame in hopes of finding plans for the new bombs your people are building. He found a locked file, and being nosey, he broke into it to find a list of people labeled as ‘person of interest’. He found that the Intelligence Division had been tasked with keeping surveillance on certain people: politicians who spoke out against the Republic, billionaires who they’d bribed into supporting the cause, and people suspected of working for the rebellion. He cross checked that list with the names of people who died under ‘mysterious circumstances’, and a good chunk of them are dead now. Poisonings, accidents, and unsolved murders were a common theme.” He paused, looking over your face once more, “Your name was on there, YN. It’s why I came here. You have shown your distaste at the Republic, and there’s a strong likelihood you’ll join the rebel cause. If you do, you’ll have all the information we’d need to defeat them.” He saw your hesitation, and said, “You know they’re corrupt enough to do it.”

It sounded too coincidental. It sounded like the sort of thing an enemy would come up with to distract you. Yet, was Hongjoong truly an enemy? A real enemy wouldn’t give away his own jailbreak. Had you captured any other rebel leader, they wouldn’t be with you right now. As the truck went up the street, you considered his words again.

Boggs mentioned seeing someone throwing the grenade into a window seconds before the explosion. If they wanted to go unnoticed, they’d wear all black to blend in with the night. You remembered the factory again. Most rebel hideouts showed signs of someone having lived there: sleeping bags, empty food cans, tables and chalkboards with photos and maps taped on them. The factory really looked empty with old cobwebs and dusty floors. Only chemical barrels remained behind in the rusty factory. But, were they really abandoned there or did someone place them there? You’re not sure.

“You’re not a stupid woman, YN,” Hongjoong said. “They would’ve asked you to escort me to the platform, so then they can shoot you and blame me for it.” You saw his face become hard, holding back whatever emotions swelled up inside him. “That’s what they told you when you radioed in, right?”

And you always follow orders.

Except the times you did not; the two times where you broke your oaths to The Republic and shot your ‘brothers in arms’. You’d indirectly and unintentionally exposed the corruption and perversion infecting your government. By releasing those children and liberating that town, you showed that you took your oath to ‘protect and serve’ seriously, while those above you did not. You turned back to the street where more people jeered at Hongjoong and cheered for you.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because they can’t hear us here. They think you won’t believe me, which is why you're here.”

Because you always follow orders.

Your superiors believe you’re a blissfully ignorant soldier who does what they say without question. Yet, lately you’ve been proving them wrong and they can’t have that. You tried thinking of all the ways that he could be lying, but another fact always contradicted the first.

“Be vigilant when we step out of this truck,” he said. “Wooyoung isn’t the only sniper up high.”

“How do I know he won’t shoot me and let someone else take the blame?”

“Because he isn’t a snake like them. He has his reasons for joining us, and for wanting to help rescue you.”

“Like what?”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

The truck drove through into the city center. A large roundabout circling a golden fountain, you leaned against the window to see three beautiful statues: one was a woman with a blindfold holding two scales to signify The Republic’s blind justice; the third was a soldier crossing two swords over his head to signify the Republic’s strength and force, and the third was an androgynous figure holding a dove on their finger which signified the Republic's peace and prosperity. Three things that the Republic no longer had: peace, justice or strength. At the end of the motorcade stood Republic Hall, the courthouse and city hall combined. Standing up tall and made of white marble, you remembered you and Hongjoong receiving your graduation papers on the front steps. You’d both made your vows there like every other official did. Only difference is that you both upheld your promises.

“I solemnly swear to uphold the justice, peace and strength of The People’s Republic,” Hongjoong said softly. “I wonder which one of us actually meant that when they said it: us or them?”

The crowds here thickened throughout the morning, so people stood right up against the barricades keeping them off the street. Your chest filled with dread realizing they all stood underneath very tall stone buildings. If Hongjoong’s men have planted any explosives, they’ll be in those buildings and the people below will be casualties. You’d wanted to evacuate but The General disagreed. Why would he do that? These people have no part in his war on the rebellion. They shouldn’t be there. It didn’t matter how many uniforms carried weapons now; they’ll all be caught in the crossfires. The people standing on their balconies and hanging out of their windows will get the worst of it, since they’ll likely be closest to the explosions. You noticed, though, the amount of unoccupied windows. Their curtains drawn, they showed no signs of life behind their frames. People watching on television? Why watch on the television when it’s happening right outside their window? You envisioned Jung Wooyoung, a member of the sniper division, sitting behind one of them with his rifle trained right on you. But, right behind that came the vision of a faceless, nameless Republic sniper who is also only obeying his orders.

These pictures made every nerve in your body sink into adrenaline. Fight mode. No flight. Always fight.

The truck eventually stopped right at the steps of the building. Standing in front of them was a wooden platform a crew constructed overnight. A basic gallows with the Republic flag hanging behind it, a singular noose hung from the rafters above a trap door. The young girl still in love wanted to reach for him. She wanted to hug and kiss him deeply one last time. She wanted to confess everything she felt, and how sorry and stupid she was. Your eyes met his as the truck came to a complete stop.

“I don’t want you to die,” you said quietly, as if the universe might hear you and hasten his end.

“I don’t want you to die either,” he said solemnly. “I love you, YN. I always have. I still do. I don’t think I’m incapable of loving you, even if you chop off my hand.”

“To be fair, you blew up half my face and crippled my leg.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you either. I thought I was…” the words died in your throat. “I…” you squeezed your good eye shut, “You shouldn’t love me.”

“But I do.”

“Why?”

You saw the two soldiers climb out of the truck. “Because even when we both went for blood, grappling and fighting one another, I still missed you. I missed you in my bones, love.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

“But you shouldn’t,” you said through gritted teeth, your mouth going dry and throat closing up.

“You’re not a bad person, YN. You just work for bad people. You’re still that girl who used to feed stray cats, give money to the homeless, and always tried to do the right thing despite what other people said. You’re a good person.”

You saw them rounding to the back of the truck.

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“She’s in there. I know she is.”

“And she’s a fool,” you spat back at him, tears burning your eyes. No, you can’t cry now. “A fool who believed in the goodness of people; who believed that at the end of the day, justice prevailed. She thought she was fighting for the right side. The good side. There is no good side in a war-” they reached the back doors and stood to open them, “-Just a lesser of two evils.”

The roaring crowd finally reached your ears as the doors opened. You jumped out before anyone noticed your face, and stood aside for Hongjoong to be guided onto the pavement. You didn’t want to think anymore about what Kim Hongjoong feels for you. It only made your job harder. You couldn’t be distracted right now. Tapping your earpiece, the normal vision on your bionic eye changed to the infrared vision. It picked up the yellows, reds and orange heat of the people on the ground, but your eye swiveled away from them to the buildings above. You saw more figures blocking the view, but your eye stayed on the empty ones. Your good eyes searched for Shin and Boggs, who’d you’d told to meet you here. Perhaps they’d been held up.

Or worse.

Once the soldiers cuffed him again, doing their best not to tighten around his metal hand, you all began walking to the platform. There, you saw three people seated behind a podium to the left of the noose right by a set of stairs. General Bok sat farthest from the stairs, whipping his head away when he spotted you approaching; Vice President Han, a portly man with a shiny bald head and small thin-rimmed glasses on his long nose, and President Yoon. President Yoon was a tall, narrow man with thinning black hair and tight tanned skin. The plastic surgery often popular in the city showed in his thin nose bridge and puffy lips. You realized then that you hated him. Innocent children were trafficked and sold into sex slavery, and he didn’t seek justice because they were not Republic children. If anything, he benefited from it or took part in it. To him, the people in the sectors are not human, and should be treated as such. They are not important. They do not matter. What kind of president does that? Like Hongjoong said, he could stop the war at any time, yet insists it’s important that it continues. It is destroying his country, and he doesn’t care because it is not affecting him personally. The idea of this man having a hit list didn’t sound entirely off base. The two men with her were no better.

You took your position at the bottom of the staircase, gun at your chest and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Your squadmates still remained missing. Shin told you they’d been around the city center. Your infrared vision did not pick up anyone in the buildings or roofs above. Then, someone called out to you:

“Lieutenant Hwang, please come up here and join us.”

Yoon had spoken, and he stared at you with a friendly smile. It felt as if someone filled your insides with snow.

“Me, sir?”

“Yes,” he nodded, beckoning you up the steps. When you shakily reached the landing, he said, “I’d like you to be here with us,” he said, “You are responsible for The Pirate King’s capture and incarceration. I think it’s only right that you share some of the spotlight.”

“I was only doing my job, sir. I didn’t do it for any glory or-”

“-Like Bok said,” he laughed, “Modest until the end. Come. Don’t be shy.”

He guided you to a spot a few feet behind him. You glanced over to Bok, who did not meet your eyes. Coward. If he is in on this assassination attempt, the least he can do is look at you.

The soldiers walked Hongjoong across the stage, and your eyes met his. You noticed his watered with tears, even if he kept his composure and defiance up to the very end. Your own eye teared up again. Every laugh, every cry, every success and failure together flashed before you. The boy who loved glazed donuts and coffee, who wrote songs and loved music, was walking to his death because of you. You brought him here. You hunted him like a dog because the men around you said so. And how trustworthy are they? You watched them walk him right underneath the hanging noose. Your eyes stayed on him. You wanted to put every piece of him to memory before you lose it forever: the blue hair he genetically implanted to look cool, the perfect proportions of his body, the several piercings he had, and his bionic hand. Yeosang and Mingi did quite a job on it. You saw blinking lights right around the vital signs to keep track of his heartbeat which remained steady.

“Welcome, citizens of The Republic,” Yoon began his speech, his voice booming over the cheering crowd. “I thank you all for being here with us as we celebrate this triumphant day. This day will be marked in history as the beginning of the end of our struggles-”

You remember when those hands used to expertly disassemble and assemble rifles in record time. They were capable of pain and pleasure in equal amounts. You missed them. You missed him. Perhaps you’ll join Boggs and resign from command. You don’t want to do this anymore. You don’t want to live in anguish forever. You then noticed his middle finger bouncing in his palm. Your bionic eye is still searching the buildings, your good eye focused on the finger. What was he doing?

“-The outlaw you see standing before you is a man who has-”

A blue light began blinking in a series of spaces and dots. Morse code. Your wristband went off in your ear, and you chanced a glance at the screen. A message from Unknown came through. Without tapping it, the message opened on its own.

‘Apartment building on your left, fourth floor, third window from the corner.’

Infrared vision showed nobody there. You should’ve known. They’d wear reflective gear to conceal themselves. Zooming in on the window in question, you spotted a shadow behind the frilly white curtains. The incoming breeze made them billow inwards and the sniper had trouble hiding behind the window sill. You saw them. They wore the skull cap and mask of a sniper. You couldn’t let them know you’d seen them, otherwise they’ll abort the mission.

“-Kim Hongjoong, you stand convicted of high treason,” said Yoon, “Piracy, destruction of Republic property, murder-”

Staring into the crowd, you saw him. Short and slight, a young delivery man kept his bike parked on the sidewalk against a brick wall. You recognized him from earlier in the day, the delivery boy who had the newspaper printed on the side of his bike. Though now he’d removed his helmet to show a mop of black hair curtaining a pale, handsome face. Kang Yeosang’s apologetic eyes met yours as you spotted something in his hand. You recalled the man from his days serving the Republic. He’d been part of the squad who defected at the hospital bombing. His skills with technology were only outmatched by Shin, who helped build the Pyramid’s firewalls and security systems. Your eye zoomed in on his hand, which you just made out through the crowd of people. You realized what it was right away. You shook your head at him.

But, the blast did not happen in the street. The explosions came from far off in this distance. One large one that shook the very ground you stood on, followed by several more. Right at the same time, you saw several people in the crowd withdraw weapons from under shirts and jackets, and aimed fire at the officers on the ground. Your body swung into action. Pushing Yoon aside, you fired at the fighters on the sidewalks, using your eye as a scope to hit the right targets. Bullets punctured through the wooden stilts holding up the stage, blowing past you and the others on stage.

“Evacuate the street!” you shouted, finding cover behind the President’s podium, “Set evacuation plans in order-”

“-That’s not my order, Lieutenant-” said General Bok, who’d taken out his own pistol to fire back, “-Negate tha-”

“-Get as many people down the street as you can,” you said over the radio, “We need to reduce the civilian casualties-”

“-Lieutenant,” Bok gave you a stern warning, and you glared back.

You started giving orders through your earpiece, and watched all of them moving into action right away. More explosions came from your left, and you realized they’d blown up the Pyramid. But how? The two delivery men at the elevator. They had several long boxes with them that you thought to be donuts. You remembered Hongjoong’s reluctance to eat them you gave him, and it clicked instantly. The Pirates just destroyed communications, ammunition, artillery, and any support the Republic had left. You tapped your earpiece multiple times, hoping to get a radio through, but you were met with dead silence.

“YN!”

Hongjoong and the bullet reached you at the same time. Your enhanced ear caught the whizz of the bullet that would’ve struck your face had Hongjoong not pushed you down. It’d come from the direction of the apartment building. You don’t know how you know, but deep down you did. Using both hands, Hongjoong pulled down the wooden podium to shield you both from more gunfire. In the midst of the chaos, he must’ve broken free of his bonds. His face inches from yours, he said:

“Do you trust me?”

Your brain couldn’t process his words. It could only comprehend your racing heart and need to get away and find your squadmates.

“YN,” he said more forcefully, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

It came out in a single breath. You said it without thinking, and this time you didn’t take it back. The rush of wind came through next as a whooshing sound came overhead. Yoon and the other officials might not recognize the Valiant, but you and Hongjoong did. A metal hovercraft built with the fragments of wrecked Republic ships, the Valiant was various shades of black, white and gray. Hongjoong and his crew truly leaned into their ‘pirate’ nickname by molding their aircraft like the old pirate ships. The engine caused surges of hot air to blow through the streets, blowing people back onto the street. It lowered down above the gallows, and the hull opened to reveal two people standing there: Choi San and Choi Jongho. San still wore the delivery man uniform, while Jongho wore a Republic guard uniform. Officer Kwang. You should’ve known when you didn’t recognize him. They threw down a rope ladder, and Hongjoong took your hand.

“I can’t,” you told him. “Not without my crew.”

“You can contact them later,” he said, quickly grabbing the ladder and bringing you over to it. “Start climbing. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Hongjoong-”

“-Go!”

He took your rifle from you, aiming it towards the guards coming up the stairs. You put your foot on the first ring and started to climb. That’s when the second bullet went past you. Then a third. Then a fourth. The sniper clearly planned to carry out their mission regardless. A cold sweat went over your whole body, causing your hands to slip on the slim rope, but you kept climbing. The wavering ladder made you a moving target, and the sniper isn’t that good. You looked down at the halfway point to see Hongjoong still on the ground. You called out to him, but he didn’t hear you over the wind and gunfire. It’d been at that moment that a deep pain shot through your body from your leg. The sniper’s tenth bullet found home in your shin, having broken the skin and lodged into the bone. You thought your entire leg went numb, only feeling the searing pain every time you lifted your leg. You gritted through the pain, continuing your climb. You need to get to the top, to safety, to where you can defend Hongjoong the best.

Another bullet sailed through the air into the back of your right shoulder. A lucky shot that burned in every pull upwards. You kept going. You did not stop or look around. The rushing winds made you deaf to anything anyone said to you. Your left ear picked up muffled sounds and static, which irritated what little bit of eardrum left inside. Then a third bullet caught you right when you reached the ramp several feet above the stage.

“Fuck!”

You screamed in agony as a bullet grazed your earpiece. Thick streams of blood wet the side of your face, and white noise filled your damaged ear before going silent completely. You felt the cartilage of your left ear as Jongho dragged you away from the edge; your finger went right through the split skin and it burned further. Your good ear-now truthfully good-only picked up the howling winds coming from ahead of you. The newest wound paralyzed the whole left side of your face. You could feel the mechanical ear malfunctioning still, clicking and shooting pain into your brain. The pain spread quickly to your eye, which started seeing static. Both enhancements connected together, one began malfunctioning once the other cut off. You felt blood atarting to seep from under the eye piece, and your chest tightened again.

“Hongjoong,” you huffed, doing your best to hold back the agonizing pain in your ear. You felt shocks of pain spark every time you opened your mouth, and you couldn’t help pressing a hand to stop it. “Hongjoong….”

“He’s on his way,” Jongho said. “Sit down. Let me see your ear.” He checked your severed ear and he winced, “Damn, that looks bad. Here, put this there and hold it. Yeosang could fix you up really quick.”

You took the rag from nearby and pressed it to your ear. However, the pain didn’t mask your concern for Hongjoong. One by one, his crew began appearing from the ladder: tall black-haired Jeong Yunho, who immediately rushed for the cockpit at the front of the ship; handsome Park Seonghwa, who grabbed a weapon from the rack and started firing down below; slender Jung Wooyoung who put down his tripod bag and knelt down to aim his sniper rifle into the buildings around the center; pink-haired Song Mingi, the one likely responsible for the explosions, who still wore his delivery man uniform, and Kang Yeosang in his delivery boy jacket. He spotted you grunting and doubled over in pain, and rushed over to you.

“My…ear,” you growled, not wanting to remove the rag from the wound but also not wanting to press down. “It’s…broken….I think.”

“Come on,” he took you by the arm, “Let’s get you to the medical bay-”

“-But…Hongjoong-”

“-Hongjoong would want you to think about your damaged ear,” he said, ignoring your request and pulling you further into the ship.

Your wounds made it hard to walk. You stumbled and fell into a wall before someone came up on your left side. Hongjoong. You knew it from the flash of blue you saw in a reflection. He said something, but you couldn’t hear him. Every muscle in your body went limp as your brain registered the sterile, silent infirmary in the ship’s second level. Yeosang and Hongjoong rested you on a metal slab, the bright light above you stinging your eyes and the hard metal being hard on your aching bones.

“Just relax, Lieutenant,” said Yeosang, who went to work with a bottle and syringe, “You’ll be fine in a few seconds.”

“Hon-Hong-Jo-oo-ng-” you forced yourself to say through a loosening jaw. Any mechanics keeping your jaw straight now malfuctioned, making it nearly impossible to speak.

“I’m right here, YN. I’m right here,” he shielded you from the bright lights above. His eyes full of panic and concern, he cupped your face and pecked your lips. “I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

“Hon-”

A sharp pinch to your vein interrupted you. Morphine. Ulta-Morphine from the look of the aquamarine liquid filling the tube and going into your arm. The needle’s sting did not even register with the rest of the pain you felt. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your heart. You kept your eye on Hongjoong, unable to care or think about anything else.

“I-I…”

The right side of your jaw slackened, and you lost the ability to speak at all. “It’s okay,” Hongjoong said, “You don’t have to talk. Just rest, okay? Yeosang is going to fix it.”

He didn’t understand. You lifted a hand to his face, despite the burning pain in your shoulder, and he pressed it to his cheek. A sharp metallic taste filled your mouth, and you turned your head to spit it out. Everything hurts, but you needed him to know. You needed to tell him before it all ended.

“Lo-Lov-ve-e yo-o-”

“I know,” he sniffed, kissing the top of your head. “I know.”

He did it all for you. He risked his life to save you. Even when you both fought and maimed each other, your love never waivered. The morphine finally hit your body, and all pain alleviated at once. Slowly, Hongjoong’s face faded to black.

****

“Will you be able to fix it, Yeosang? It’s gonna heal, right?”

“I fixed the eye with no real problems, but the ear is lost. The bullet went right through the cybernetic pieces around it when it slashed her ear, so the whole piece short circuited and bursted in the canal. She’s lucky we got to it in time. It could’ve made her brain dead.”

“Alright, but will she be okay, Yeosang?”

“She’s stable now, but the ear will take time to heal completely. Once that’s happened, I can refit her with a new enhancement. I don’t feel safe doing it until it’s healed.”

Hongjoong stayed beside the medical bed, watching a medical droid carefully changing the bandage around your head. It took a few hours for Yeosang and his assistant droid to patch you up, but you made it. They had to shave half of it to access the pieces attached to your skull. Yeosang and the medical droid managed to remove and patch up your bullet wounds, but your bionic pieces concerned him the most. He held your hand gently in his, kissing your knuckles. It’d been so long since he touched you this way. He remembered the days when he took any chance he could to touch you, whether hand holding or brushing hair from your face. He always had this need to feel some part of you; as if he needed to be sure he hadn't dreamed of you. Now, he had to wait until you’d become unconscious to hold your hand.

"You must love her a lot," he heard Yeosang say, fixing up an IV next to your bed. "To risk getting executed for her."

"I do."

Yeosang didn't question his feelings for you like some of his crew members. He understood it better, perhaps, seeing as he'd defected like Hongjoong did. He'd been one of the physicians in his unit, and Hongjoong recalled him saving people from the hospital fire. Yeosang dragged them to safety, bringing them to a camp where rebel physicians worked on them without interference. He had people on the Republic side whom he loved, and would do anything to get back, if he could.

"They'll blame it on her," he said to Hongjoong next. "They'll say she helped you and brand her a traitor."

"I know." He paused, "But they already thought that when she killed those men."

He'd heard about your heroic deeds through the channels. When he heard a loyalist lieutenant open fire on her fellow soldiers, he never thought it'd be you. He shouldn't have been surprised though. The Republic kept their citizens ignorant to the corruption and crime going on behind the scenes. They didn't know that their president was in the pockets of war profiteers and millionaires looking to cash in. They didn't know the things soldiers did to the people in the sectors, and how those people struggled to survive. They didn't know the fear, intimidation and pain with which the government used to hold power over them. You hadn't known, and you reacted far differently than he'd expected. When Kyungmin told Wooyoung a lady with one eye saved him and several other children, he questioned the boy further. When Jisoo tearfully explained to Seonghwa that a female soldier shot her captors at point blank, he needed to know more.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who solved problems with bullets.

Quick, heavy thumps made him turn around, and he saw Seonghwa standing in the doorway. He'd taken off his stolen Republic uniform, and wore a gray t-shirt over black pants and boots. Hongjoong noticed him panting and clutching the door frame. Soon, more footsteps came and Wooyoung and San appeared behind him.

"You need to turn on the TV," Seonghwa breathed, rushing to the monitor on the wall. "You need to see this. I can't believe it. They just announced it."

"Announced what?"

He turned on a monitor in the room where he saw the Republic news station covering the story. Lee Seojoon sat at her usual anchor desk, a solemn face despite her professional tone.

"-At precisely two-forty-two this afternoon, President Yoon Byungho was pronounced dead. The fearless leader of the People's Republic received several severe gunshot wounds during the Victory Parade this morning. Republic law enforcements cannot say whether Kim Hongjoong, the rebel Pirate King, fired those fatal shots, but it is being investigated-"

"He's dead?"

Hongjoong found this hard to believe. He knew he'd put a few bullets into the old man's back, but he hadn't seen him fall. His personal guards must've rushed him out of the battle and into the hospital. Hongjoong sat there imagining the man taking his final breaths and knowing he'd lost. The rebel leaders will soon hear of it, and plan an attack. The Vice president will no doubt take power, but he is weak compared to Yoon. They'd blown up their main command base and military center, and there is little resistance left in The Republic. It will fall and so will anyone who helped uphold it.

He looked back at you, sleeping soundlessly in Ultra-Morphine Land. He had you back. He had you here with him again. He could protect you. You might not love him right away again, and things will never be how they once were, but you were in his life again.

That was the real victory.

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