#oh to be a pretty knight in shining armor and a long skirt...

[friedri-ce]

imagine hollow knight where everything is almost the same except pure vessel wears a really pretty skirt

sealed vessel version as well

#look im not obsessed with skirts #(btw i have a similar one irl) #hollow is living my girl dream GODDAMN #oh to be a pretty knight in shining armor and a long skirt... #hollow knight #fanart #hollow knight fanart #the hollow knight #pure vessel #hk #hk fanart #thk #hk thk #hk pure vessel #sealed vessel

[miioouu]

Need a mean dads best friend Ghost but where Soap is our knight in shining armor from the meanies 😔

bestie you don't understand!!! I've thought about who will come to reader's rescue for so long, before i settled on Price. but here is how it would've gone if it were Soap.

Tw: smut, exhibition, female reader

The difference between Soap and his Captain is that he's shameless. He wouldn't have interrupted you at all. He would've just peeped into the keyhole as soon as he heard a soft moan from the bathroom. He would've watched as you drooled over the lieutenant cock, watched his superior's head loll back and his hands lacing in you hair, fucking into your throat as fat tears rolled down your pretty cheeks.

He would've waited for you to walk back outside, insisting on sitting you beside him again. He's not so subtle about his movements anymore. His hands would push past the hem of your skirt, slide your panties to the side, ignoring the way you're looking at him with panicked eyes. And no it's not that you don't want him too, not with the way your legs part, shifting in your seat so you can angle your hips better. No, it wasn't that. You were just scared. But he wonders, scared to be caught obviously, but by who? Your dad? Not likely, he's too busy chatting away with the rest of his buddies. Your friend maybe, she's eyeing curiously when you came back with Ghost trailing closely behind you. Jealous, she's suspecting something and she's right. But no, can't be her either, if anything, knowing you, maybe you want her to look at you, prove to her that you too can get an older man for pleasure.

So it leaves him with one option. Of course, of course you don't want Ghost to catch you. But it's already too late. Johnny chuckles, way too used to the lieutenant's death glare, is the shiver running down his spine out of nervousness of the consequences of his actions? Who dares to mess with the skull masked man's belongings after all? Or was it a shiver of pleasure? Excitement that he's playing with a toy that isn't his.

And Soap doesn't care about his superior. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation, the credit is not all his to take but he won't admit it frankly. He sees the way you're struggling to keep your moans at bay as his thumb circles your puffy clit, his middle and ring finger pushing past the tight muscles of your entrance until they finally slip in, until they finally rub that sweet, spongy spot inside. He sees the way your eyes flutter and your eyebrows furrow, the way your back arches slightly and oh god does it make your tits look so delectable right now, he just wants to sink his sharp canines into the flesh, marking you as his, teasing Simon for not treating you right.

But let's be honest. Soap isn't a knight in shining armour. He's mean, not as much as Ghost, but way more than John. He knows you're struggling to stay discreet, but he's having none of it. He wants, he needs to teach Simon a lesson, treasure your rarest pearl, don't replace her with cheap plastic.

He leans into you whispering in your ear "Good God, lass... Can you come for me?" His voice is mocking, and you want to punch him for the way he's treating you as a child. Yes he's older than you, but you always felt a little closer to Johnny than the rest of the team. You only glare at him though, not trusting your voice, not trusting your own body. Of course not, it's betraying you. It always did with Ghost, and now with Soap, your walls are flattering around his fingers, your legs are threatening to close from pleasure.

And he's mean, mean, mean! He sees you're close and he's not better than Ghost, and it makes you wonder if he's his disciple in every aspect of life. As soon as you bite your lips, your fists clenching around the arms of the chair. He pulls away, smirking and proud, the frustration and irritation makes you sigh loudly, hissing almost as you lay your head on the table, hiding your flushed cheeks with your arms.

He's shameless, unlike his captain, unlike his lieutenant. He makes sure to catch Simon's glance, wasn't too hard, he was already shooting daggers at him all this time. And to make it worse he stretches his arms above his head, parting his fingers, the setting sunlight makes the arousal dripping down his knuckles glimmer and shine. And he's not done with the show, not until he rubs his stubles, sniffing his fingers like the pervert he is, brushing your arousal on his lips, making sure his wet pink muscles cleans up, tasting your candy nectar as he lets out an exaggerated hum, followed by a chuckle and a wink sent to Ghost.

#LIKE SERIOUSLY SOAP WOULDN'T SAVE HER #he'd make it worse #cod soap #soap x reader #soap smut #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish smut #soap cod #cod #cod smut #female reader #cod x reader #smut

[thosepeakyboysimagines]

Not My Bonnie

Request: How well would you think Bonnie would react to an innocent reader? Like they would be so cute together. Maybe they met when reader was walking down to get groceries and some prick was harassing them and Bonnie comes in to save them like a knight in shining armor(more like a gangster in a peaky cap), and now reader definitely sees him as a hero without knowing that he's a boxer/assassin working with the peaky blinders. And someone tries to tell them "hey he's a gangster" and reader is just like "my bonnie wouldn't be that mean :(" and Mr.gold is just happy Bonnie loves some as much as he did with his late wife while Bonnie is trying to find a way to tell reader without scaring them, that he in fact can be that mean.

Pairing: Bonnie Gold

Warnings: Language, mention of rape, angst

"Thank you, Stephan. I'll see you next week!" You yelled back behind you leaving the grocery store. Your arms had two big brown bags, a bit heavy but nothing you couldn't handle. You ended yo working a little late at the hospital tonight, so you were shopping now at nightfall, which you never really liked walking around Birmingham at night, with them peaky boys out running around and even their enemies on the street. You walked down the alley way not to far from your home.

"Hey there, pretty lady." You heard a mans voice say from behind you causing you to jump, and drop all of your groceries.

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie. Didn't mean to scare ya." He said as you turned to look at him. He was a very tall, rugged man. You gulped down the fear in you.

"Please. I'm just trying to go home." You said out almost in a whisper.

"Thats alright." He said as he began walking towards you making you take a few steps back, but soon your back hit the other side of the alley wall.

"How about a little fun before you go home? huh?" He said pushing up against you now.

"No." You said out. He sure didn't like that and he had his hand around your throat now keeping you in your place.

"Please! NO!" You yelled out as he now was lifting up your skirt trying to pulled down you underwear, but you were kicking you legs getting him not to.

"You better shut up you little bitch. Those Peaky Boys roam the streets at night. You don't want them finding you." He said. You cried out loud as you could till he put his hand over you mouth. You felt the tears rolling down you face.

"HEY!" You heard a faint voice call out. You and the man both looked over, but all you could see down the dark alley was the outline of a man who stood with wide shoulders, a long coat and a hat. You felt yourself dizzy. You saw the man down the alley run to you and punch the other man who had just assaulted you in the face. With one punch, the man was out. As that happened he released you of his grip and you slide down the wall. Barely being able to stay awake.

"Hey, there. Stay awake, I don't know if you may have a concussion. Come on lets get you up." He said helping you stand. He grabbed all the groceries and put them in one arm, and then coming back to you side to help you stay upright.

"Lets get you home." He said as he began to walk out of the alley.

"Over there." You pointed at you front door and realizing you were telling a complete stranger where you lived, but you automatically felt safe in his presence. You grabbed you keys out as you neared the door and opened it. The man helping you into you house and sitting you on your couch. You heard him doing something in kitchen but you didn't have the strength to go check.

"here's some water." He said. Your eyes were slightly closed but you sat up and took a sip of the water. Beginning to clam down a bit, you fluttered you eyes open to look at the man who practically just saved your life. He was, beautiful. He had pale skin that looked so soft, he had deep dark eyes that penetrated you soul when he looked into you eyes, his hair was dark, and curly.

"I'm Bonnie." He said breaking you concentration on all his features.

"Y/N." You said quietly.

That was the night you met the man you called you boyfriend now. It was about a month later, you sat talking to one of your girlfriends over tea, at a shop not to far from your home.

"So, how are you and Bonnie?" She asked.

"We are good. He so sweet, such a gentleman, and I know I'm always safe with him." You said taking a sip of your tea.

"Well, you do know your man, is a Peaky boy right?" She said to you causing you to choke on your tea.

"Nancy, he is not. He could never be that mean. He could never hurt anyone." You said with a chuckle.

“My Bonnie could never be that.” You said after calming down you laughter a bit.

“If you say so. That’s just what I’ve been hearing. He’s a Peaky Boy, and on top of it, he’s apparently a huge boxer.” She told you again. You just rolled your eyes and sipped your tea. Coming from behind you, you saw a hand with flowers in it reach around and set them in front of you. You smiled knowing it was Bonnie.

“Well I should probably go.” Nancy said with a smile and got up to leave.

“Hello, beautiful.” He said coming around the side of you and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Hello handsome.” You said back and kissed him on his lips. He sat down and a cup of tea in front of him before his butt could hit the seat.

“So, I have a question for you.” He said before he sipped his tea.

“Would you like to come have dinner with my father and I? Meet my father?” He asked sounding kind of nervous asking you to meet his father.

“Of course so would.” You told him grabbing his hand in yours.

“Phew. Thought you wouldn’t want to come have dinner with us dirty gypsies” He said grinning at you.

“Stop that. You aren’t dirty, and there isn’t anything wrong with being a gypsy.” You stated squeezing his hand in yours.

“How did I get so lucky?” He asked leaning over the table and pecking you on the lips.

“You weren’t the lucky one. I was. You saved me Bon. You’re the reason I’m here today. Who knows what that guy would have done to me if you didn’t show up. I’d probably be dead.” You said starting to think back to that night.

“Don’t think about that sweetheart. You’ll never have to worry about being safe again.” He said as he sipped his tea. You spent the rest of the after noon together. Went on a walk through the woods together getting more depth into each other lives? And just talking with one another.

“Shall we head to my fathers?” Bonnie asked teaching the end of the trail.

“That would be great.” You said smiling and cozily getting into his side as he wrapped his arm around you and began walking back. But before you could make it back to the car he turned down a different path.

“Where we going?” You asked confused now.

“To my dads. Did you forget gypsies can’t stay still. He’s always on the move.” He explained remember that they were gyspises and they live in tents, and travel a lot.

“Right.” You said.

“Before we get there I want to let you know that my father is a very nice man, has a temper in him, but very nice, also doesn’t have much of a filter." Bonnie explained before continuing you walk. Quickly you saw a very very nice carriage sitting and horse around. As you rounded there carriage there was a table set up with chairs, lots of fruit, and food.

"Bonnie! My boy!" You heard a man yell from the carriage. You looked and saw him standing in the door way if the carriage with his hands thrown up.

"Dad." Bonnie said smiling and going to give him a hug.

"And you must be Y/N. " Bonnies father said as he walked to you.

"Let me get a good look at you." He said stopping in front of you, looking over your face, and smile spread across his fave.

"Beautiful. How did this ugly mug get a girl as beautiful as you?" Bonnie said with a laugh. He opened his arms and pulled you into him for a hug.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Gold." You said with a smile as he pulled away.

"Aberama, please." He said bowing his hat to you.

"Lets sit." Aberama said pulling a chair out for you. You sat and Bonnie sitting across from you, Aberama at the head of the table to the left of you.

"So, how has my boy been? How's work? How's Tommy?" He asked. Then and there you realized you didn't know what Bonnie did for work. But now wasn't the time to talk about it.

"Bakery is good. Tommy is good." He said looking at Aberama with a weird look on his face. Quickly he looked over to you and smiled shyly.

"Who's Tommy?" You asked taking a bite of the food that was in front of you.

"He's, my boss." Bonnie said with a slight boss between words, like he was thinking.

"So, Y/N what do you do?" Aberama asked.

"I'm a nurse." You told him sipping your drink.

"Wow, you work in Birmingham?" He asked again trying to get to know you.

"Yes, in the ER." You told him.

"Wow, must be some crazy shit you see there." He said as he took some food in his mouth.

"Yeah. I've seen so really messed up stuff. I've seen some of the things that those Peaky Boy's do to people. It's fucked up what they do to these men. Eye's carved up, beaten half way dead, it just blows my mind how someone could do that to people and sleep peacefully at night." You explained the horrid things you've seen those gangster do to people.

"Wow. That's crazy." Bonnie said looking down at his plate, seemingly trying not to make eye contact with you. The rest of the night you everyone made small talk, drank a bit, and had laughs.

"Alright well, we should really head out. Get this one to bed." Bonnie said motioning towards you dozing off a bit.

"Alright, well it was very nice to meet you finally. Also very nice to get to know you a bit." Aberama said standing to give you a hug and same to Bonnie.

"So nice to meet you also. You raised an amazing son." You told him. You let them say their goodbye and once Bonnie was done he came to you and wrapped his arm around you. You smiled and wrapped yours around his waist giving you a bit of warmth in the chilly night. You couldn't help but think back to the way he and his father were acting when you brought up the Peaky Blinders, and when he spoke about his work. But you let it slip all the way to the back of you mind. You knew your Bonnie Gold, could not be one of those savages, even though everyone says he is.

"Come on, let's get your little butt home. You need some sleep." Bonnie said pecking you on the cheek before letting you into the car. You smiled and got in getting yourself comfy in your seat. See, really people think Bonnie is a Peaky Boy. I don't think they are this gentleman like. Just stop thinking about it. Don't let it get to you. Bonnie began to drive away, grabbing your hand to hold it while he drove. But, all you could think about was the rumor about him.

"Bon. Can you pull over for a sec?" You asked him not being able to get this out of your mind.

"Yeah, Are you okay?" He asked worried now, pulling over and putting the car in park.

"Yeah. I just need to get this off my mind." You said turning to him. He turned to you making sure you knew you had his full attention.

"So, earlier when Nancy and I were having tea she had said something to me that I didn't believe. But then tonight at dinner the way you acted when you walked about you work, and when I brought up the Peaky Blinders. You seemed off when I talked about it. So I have heard that you are part of the Peaky Blinders. I know, its stupid to think that you could be part of them. You to sweet and gentleman like and-"

"I am." Bonnie said cutting off your rant. All you could do was stare.

"I've been trying to find a way to tell you. I know how you feel about us. I know you think of us as savages, but I wanted to show you that we aren't all savages, I wanted to show you that you can trust me even though I am a Peaky Blinder. I get it if you don't want this anymore." He said slouched down in his seat feeling defeated and nervous about your next words.

"Bonnie, I know I said a lot of mean, and ignorant things about Peaky Blinders. But, I cannot stop loving you. Even though you are a Peaky Blinder. So, I know I can look passed you being a Blinder. But, I also don't know if I will be accepted by everyone else because I'm not like you." You explained to Bonnie.

"Wait, you love me?" He said not hearing anything else you said.

"Of course I do. " You said looking him in the eyes. But before you could say anything else he grabbed your face between his hand and pulled you in for a kiss.

"I love you too Y/N." He said with a smile. This was the day you knew you wanted to be with this man the rest of your life even if he was a Peaky Blinder. Hey, at least you knew you'd be more than protected by him and all the rest of them.

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST HUN! I WOULD LOVE IF EVERYONE SENT MORE! <3

#bonnie gold #peaky blinders #imagine #imagines #bonnie gold x Y/N #bonnie gold x reader

[toussainttwins]

What is it that drew you to your Beast, despite knowing that he had a lover and that he was one responsible for slaying your Duduhare? How are you able to forgive him so easily, when he cannot even forgive himself?

The tails flickers uneasily inside Nistana's skirts. Luckily for the petite succubus, the fashion is her ally, and the voluminous confiture of fabrics hides her uneasiness well and true. When she lifts her head up, her serenity is set in marble, pretty and untroubled. "I haven't thought about it - oh, so deeply," she gives a little smile, too sly at the edges to be considered courteous, and returns to her sewing. The survival of the horned twins depends on their ruse; with time it has become a second habit. When Nistana longs for safety, it's all too easy and natural to pretend to be Natanis. Truth, on the other hand, is a sharp weapon, not a mere needle, and she is scared what it can do for her heart.

Nistana had always been curious why her lover rushed into every foolish and dangerous feat, accepted the quests most perilous, while his heart sang of dread and desire to run, year after year and praise after praise. The dreamy twin thought her gentle hare was being brave, truly brave, locking his fears inside his shining suit of armor and wearing a dashing smile, that crumbled if one looked too closely. It turns out Milton never grew brave enough to face his most ravenous fear, nor his heart was truly gentle. Trembling, that's all it was. The petite succubus can't help but wonder if one day he would have brought her harm, lashed by the toes by his terrors. Yet she can not discard the moments they shared, the taste of the fluttering, fragile sweetness and tender understanding, she herself drank blindly and greedily. Was Milton protective of her by his own desire? Would he cut her pretty horned head off to earn the appraisal of the Duchess, if the knights and merchants of Toussaint didn't act together and bribed the witcher against it? Would he abandon the courage he had learned in her arms, in her smiles of trust and support? What if love is enought to turn a bloodtrusty dragon into a man, but not enough to do the same to a meek hare? Nistana shakes the questions off as if they were poisonous, pestering flies. "One does not favour one colour in all their deeds, sangbonbon," the horned seamstress suggests. The embroidered pattern beneath her hands turns into hares and knights. Mayhapse, when she finishes it, she would grow wiser, figures out the answers to all the cutting questions, learns to hate and to forget. Mayhapse, when she finishes it she would talk herself out of listening to the loving heart of a murderer.

#♥horns and hoofs ( toussainttwins ic answers )

[sluttyten]

Ohhhhhh hi! I'm addicted to your drabble with Jaehyun, where he's prince and you're his prostitute or something. Like game of thrones kind of thing...

What about similar with Johnny? Man would look hella sexy in knight armor I bet

Luv uuu

The knights in the kingdom always acted like they deserved everything they wanted. You worked in the castle, so you definitely knew how they could be. You witnessed it firsthand and heard stories as well of the lusty knights fresh from a battle, deep into their cups, pulling kitchen girls, maidservants, girls from the village into their beds or into dark corners of the castle.

Your favorite of the knights was Sir Johnny Suh. He was handsome. Tall and strong, beautiful. His hair was long and dark, falling in messy, tangled waves to just above his shoulders. 

You loved watching him on the practice fields, on his horse or practicing the sword with the other knights. You enjoyed watching him at feasts or when the King threw parties full of glittering and shining nobles. You liked to see him dressed in his nicest clothes, putting on a handsome face for all of the beautiful, shiny noblewomen.

However, you didn’t like to see him like this.

Johnny groaned as he moved, sitting upright in his bed, his hand pressed over his bruised ribs. The castle physician had only recently left the knight’s room, pronouncing him as well as he would be, in need of rest. It was only after the physician left that you snuck in through the secret entrance to Johnny’s room, hidden behind a tapesty. 

You slip quickly into his bed. “Don’t move. You’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” he groans, trying again to sit up more. 

“You’re not.” You press gently at his shoulders. “Don’t be a stupid knight. Just lay back. Let me take care of you.”

Johnny slides down in his bed. “I’m not a child. I’m fine.”

“Just let me take care of you.” You reach over to the side of the bed where the physician left a cloth in a bowl of warm water. “You’re filthy. What did you do, crawl back here in the mud when you fell off your horse?” You dab the cloth against his face, the dried mud caked in his eyebrows and his hairline.

He lifts his hand up to your wrist. “You’re just a servant. I told you I don’t need you here.”

“Guess you shouldn’t have brought me into your bed so many times, oh good knight. Because I’m here now.” You wipe down his neck, and Johnny jerks his head. “You’re really a mess, you know that? Had me worried sick when I heard the stories about you being brought back to the castle unconscious, injured, bleeding.”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to nurse me back to health?” Johnny teases. 

You move on the bed, higher up, swinging a leg over his lap so you can sit on him. “No, I’m just going to make you feel better. I’m going to be careful with you, but make you feel so good, sir.”

The knight sighs when you bring the cloth down to his chest, as you wipe gently at the streaks of mud and some of the dried blood on his skin. You hitch your skirts a little higher, baring your knees, your thighs. 

“Why are none of your other girls here, good knight?” You ask as your hands come lower, light over his ribs, down his abdomen. “None of them care about how you’re doing?”

Johnny makes a soft, pleased sound as your hands dip down, beneath your skirts, back behind you to where he’s grown hard for you. “There are no others. You’re the only one I bring to my bed.”

That’s not what you expected to hear. Many of the other knights, they’ve got their favorites, but they have several different servants or village girls that they pull into corners or their beds. You thought Johnny was just the same.

“Don’t, like, don’t let that get to your pretty little head.” Johnny shifts, rocking his hips up into the ring of your fingers. “It’s just that no one else wants me as much as you do.”

Now that’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one. You’ve seen other servants looking at him, undressing him with their eyes. 

“Before you,” Johnny says, “they came to bed with me, but none enjoyed it so much as you. You’re eager for it. And I like that.”

Of course you’re eager for it. He’s good. Johnny makes you feel good, makes it fun for you to make him feel good. Even if he’s just cornering you in the scullery, or if he’s sneaking you into the stables to quickly fuck in his horse’s stall before he goes for a morning ride with the prince and the other knights, he makes it fun.

When you move, attempting to spread your legs more and sit down on his erection, Johnny starts to sit up, his hand curled against your lower back.

“No, don’t move,” you tell him, your hand on his shoulder. “Let me.”

Johnny looks up at you, confused. You don’t do this. He’s always on top, always in control. But tonight he’s injured, tonight he shouldn’t overexert himself. Tonight, you want to be on top.

Johnny settles into his bed, his hands sliding around from your back to your thighs, under your skirts to touch you in the place that always feels so heavenly good. You start moving on him, rising up and down on his hardness.

“I want to see you,” Johnny tells you, and he pulls a hand out of your skirts, lifting it up the front of your gown to where the material is fastened. His fingers are quick, and fabric falls apart beneath his touch, baring your arms and your chest and your belly. All of the material pools around your waist.

Your body rocks against his, and Johnny brings his hands to your chest, and you lean into him, moans spilling from your lips. And Johnny’s hands feel so good on your body, his length feels so good inside of you, and as you look down at his face, you can see his pleasure mixing with his discomfort as he begins to move, unable to resist thrusting up into you as he grows closer to his climax.

“Johnny,” you moan.

He moans your name, his hands caressing your body, pulling you closer to him, pushing you down on his cock. He rocks up into you again and with a deep grunt, he releases inside you, and you keep going, riding him with all you’ve got, trying to get yourself off, too.

Johnny moves then, and you have no will to fight him on it as he rolls you under him. His face twists into a grimace, but he moves, each movement seeming to bring him some pain until you lift your hand to his cheek, and draw his mouth down to yours.

His hips roll against yours, bodies crashing together, and you moan for him as he brings you to your climax as well.

Your knight collapses against you, and carefully you roll him off of you, onto his back. You reach for the cloth in the bowl again, bringing it up to his forehead and cheeks, and you trail your lips afterwards, the cool droplets of water beneath your lips, and Johnny sighs, his hands coming up to your waist.

“I’ll take care of you,” you whisper to him, stroking his hair as he closes his eyes and turns his head on his pillows.

You’ll have to redress and leave before long. You can’t still be here in the morning. But for now, Johnny’s hands hold tight to you, and he brushes his lips to your bare shoulder. “I’ll take care of you too,” he tells you. “I want you to stay.”

#asks #johnny #johnny smut #johnny drabbles #johnny day!! #I wrote this while I was sitting at my grandparents house #I feel filthy lol so I hope y’all enjoy it

[selinakidreams]

Hello my love can i please request that you follow up on this lovely work of art you deposited in my ask box? Ty ty

oh oh oh what is this? the lovely carter (and val- in spirit) dropping in my inbox and requesting for me (???????) to write,,,,,,,,,,, I’m honored and will happily accept.

I am so so so so so sorry this took me so long to write,, it’s been sitting in my drafts for weeks,,,, I hope this makes up for it 🥺 I tweaked it a bit and I think it works,,, better now ? hopefully !!

warnings: this is smutty, SLIGHT voyerism,  dubcon turned to con, p♥︎rn with like.. a dash of plot ? maybe ?, fem! reader, thigh riding, uh riding dick right after, LIGHT MENTIONS of fwb! Osamu,, ah ha haa — NO INCEST.

Dinners with the Miyas: a weekly tradition since... before you could remember. Once a week, you and your family would gather at the Miya’s house for a homemade feast.

In hindsight, it was a really nice way for two life-long best friends, both of your guys’ moms, and their loved ones to get together and catch up after a busy week- but as a girl dealing with a pair of twins a year older than herself, it was absolute hell. 

At first, you used to despise having to get properly dressed just to eat dinner with your family friends. All that effort and for what? You see them all the time at school already, what’s so special about coming together for dinner once a week? And honestly, you were just going to get dirtied up anyways. Their beautiful blooming garden was calling your name and who were you to deny it?

You’d often find yourself frolicking among the tall blades of grass and colorful flowers, the wind swaying the plants to and fro. It was so calming to sit and watch the bees buzz around and pollinate. Needless to say, this is the boys’ cue to come into the picture; they always ruined your fun. The twins started growing into... boys, meaning they were an absolute nuisance.

It all started on a gloomy day; it had rained a few hours prior to the meetup and the Miya’s garden was- of course- muddy, but you just couldn’t resist. You tried to be as careful as you could, especially after the continuous complaints from your mother about how dirty you were when you showed up to the dinner table, but somebody decided to sabotage that.

A cold, wet slab of goop slapped you square in the face. With eyes growing wide, you turned to the culprit. An obnoxious laugh left Atsumu Miya’s mouth and in the same breath managed to call you ugly. You didn’t know what to do besides look down; you felt tears prick your lash line and you didn’t want that bully of a boy to see you cry. When you lifted your gaze to find the back door to run to, you paused upon seeing more mud flying through the air- only it wasn’t at you this time. It’s target was Atsumu- the launcher, Osamu. Finishing the embarrassing blow, the twin pointedly said the same phrase that was spat at you, before turning to you and apologizing for his idiot brother’s actions. Needless to say, after that Osamu Miya became your knight in shining armor.

As the years pass, they started to come over to your house more. When the boys were in your room, they (mainly the more wide-eyed, now blonde-haired, insatiably curious one) poked and prodded where their gazes didn’t belong. Osamu always tried his hardest to reil his brother in, attempting to put things back and apologizing every once in a while.it was painfully easy to realize that your perspective about him about him shifted; The politeness. The calm. The sensibility. He was kind and considerate. Your view on Osamu began to change into something of want, and oddly enough, it wasn’t pure.

You and osamu grew closer in ways you weren’t expecting; he was your first sexual everything. First kiss, first touch, first fuck- and with every intimate moment you both shared, the level of respect and maturity was extremely high. There was only one issue, whatever one miya wanted, the other wanted it just as bad.

Atsumu’s gaze on you lasted longer and longer, his tricks were getting more and more perverse- anything he could do to cause a little mischief and ripen the sexual tension he began to build between the two of you. But even the kiddie wrestling matches, flipping up your skirt, and lingering touches became boring; none of his little teases seemed to satisfy him anymore.

He was jealous. He had to be. Osamu never boasted, much less muttered a single word about what you two did when you were alone but Atsumu wasn’t dumb. He knew one of the Miya’s were getting their dick wet and it certainly wasn’t him. He was becoming impatient, but to you, he seemed really on edge- so much so, that one night you found yourself in one of the most compromising positions with the honey-haired idiot.

The three of you were chatting about the twins’ most recent volleyball match in your room, waiting for your moms’ wine induced giggles to subside and finnish the food already.

With lit up eyes, Atsumu was boasting about how they’d achieved their first quick when Osamu pardoned himself so he could use the restroom. 

“AWHH ‘SAMU, YOURE GONNA MISS THE BEST PART.” Tsumu loudly whined. 

“i was there, idiot. just keep telling her the story, i’ll be back.” he rolled his eyes before leaving the room.

He sucked his teeth before turning to you to continue the story only to find your eyes glued to find Osamu’s fleeting figure. You looked almost dazed out and Atsumu couldn’t believe it. Right in front of his eyes, you were eye-fucking his twin brother instead of listening to him.

Absolutely not.

Part of you should not be surprised. You looked away for just a few seconds- just enough for Atsumu to be annoyed that the attention wasn’t on him. Now you found yourself pinned to the floor, both wrists in one of his big hands, the other holding your hips down. You let out a squeal as you tried squirming out of his grasp.... that was until his knee firmly placed itself against your crotch in just the right place. You swear up and down that you didn’t mean to but there was a surprised gasp that shouldn’t have left your mouth. It almost sounded like... the thought stilled your body.

atsumu took note of this. 

In a low murmur, he leaned incredibly close and whispered, “how’s that pretty pussy of yers feelin right now?”

It sent a violent pink tinge to your cheeks and a bolt of arousal down your spine, your slick spreading against your underwear and the top of his jeanclad knee. A clench of your thighs meant this was going exactly where he wanted it to- his wait was over.

“ ‘m waiting for an answer, princess.” he tutted, his face only getting closer to yours while he applied more pressure against your throbbing vulva. 

It was never like this with ‘samu. This... was almost exciting for you. Something teetering the lines of flavorful and troublesome. The little voice in your head was screaming at you but the aching desire in your pussy was louder.

“Ah!- atsumu! what are you doing?” you whimper, trying to hide your face. There were so many thoughts racing through your mind, the logical part of you wanted to hear them all out but in the moment you were so overwhelmed. There needed to be control in such a situation; You tried to shift around to loosen his grip, accidentally applying pressure that was welcoming it the most, causing a breathy moan to escape your lips and your eyes to clamp shut.

“mmm well, you’re so focused on my brother, i thought i’d show you what you were missin if you started payin more attention to me.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and you whine. This position was so compromising.

He trailed the hand that weighed down your waist up the curves of your side and took your jaw in his hand. He turned your face and when you peeked open your eyes, your gaze was met with his.

“I want you to cum on my thigh.”

Eyes wide, you tried shaking your head to no avail. His grip was so strong. “Atsumu no!! Osamu’s gonna get back and dinner is gonna be done soon and just- no!” You squeal.

“Y’still have time,” he said calmly, “ ‘samu’s probably checkin on dinner... so yeh better start... or else. Y’know what? I could just continue this though dinner. Slide my hand up ye’thigh under the table...” he started, letting go of your face and ghosting his hand down your body. The thought of his big hands palming over your clit while a finger is dipped into your warm pool flashed in your mind. You clenched, and boy, he felt it.

“Mmm, did my pretty girl think about my fingers- fingers that could reach places yours can’t?” He grinned as he watched you follow his hand with your eyes. “maybe you’d like it if i play with your clit under the table, hm? right next to my brother-” 

“no no! here. right now.” is all you could manage to get out. your head was swimming with all that could happen, it only got hazier when you felt the pressure on your cunt lessen- you wanted it back. “Ts-sumu.. i..” 

“i know, i know... but first i want you to cum on my thigh if you want my fingers that badly. I want you whiny and desperate, rubbing that pretty cunt all over me. Moaning my name.”

That’s how you found yourself stuffed in your small closet, you desk chair pulled away from its rightful place,

With his throbbing cock fighting against the cage of his pants and heavy pants leaving his lips, his hands could only find relief on your waist- assisting you in your delishious movements.

His noises weren’t the only ones to be heard, you were trying so hard to contain them but nothing is coming of it. Short little high pitched whines rung in Atsumu s ears- but what really got him were the whimpers of “fuck tsumi,” when the angle hit your clit just right and the squeeze of his biceps as you threw your head back. As soon as he experienced that, he needed you to cum right then and there. And not on his thigh.

“Nope- fuck, we’re switching it up,” he mumbled as he stopped your hips from grinding down. Your mind was a mess but all you could think about in your extremely aroused state was that you needed to cum.

“Atsumu wh-“ before you could even finish your question, he unzipped his pants and uncovered himself from his boxers, his angry cockhead slapping his torso and smearing pre-cum on his skin.

“On- now, Princess.”

There was no need for protests; he was expecting one to come out but instead he felt your soft hands lightly grip his bulging head and give a few strokes before all he heard in that cramped, dark closet was, “you’re so .. big.”

Eyes wide, a garbled moan left his mouth and next thing he knew, you were repositioning till his tip lined with your sopping entrance. He couldn’t take it, he thrusted upward as you sunk down. A shocked moan ripped out of both of you and in the moment of silence that followed afterwards, you could hear the floorboard creek.

Apparently Atsumu did too because his actions stopped and one of his hands left your hips to presumably cover your mouth. You presumed wrong.

Your closet door slid open to reveal a wide eyed Osamu palming himself.

#she dreams ! #thank you carter!!! #miya atsumu #osamu miya #miya osamu #atsumu miya #haikyuu atsumu #haikyū!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyū!! x reader #hq #hq smut #haikyuu smut #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu smut #osamu #hq osamu #osamu smut #atsumu #atsumu smut #atsumu hq #why yes I did leave this as a cliffhanger #Tf are you gonna do about it <3

[gureishi]

Zen X Lea 

For @im-the-mystic-messenger’s holiday gift exchange. I screamed when I saw my match, because I love Lea more than life itself. I’m always honored to enter into the sweet world of my beautiful friend and her lovely man. Merry early Christmas, @quirky-and-kind​, my darling. Thank you dear, brilliant Lodi for putting together this beautiful event!

It’s just dark enough outside to see lights going on in the windows of the apartment building across the street. There’s a flurry of snow piled high against the bedroom window; Zen lays a hand on the glass and is delighted to find that it’s icy and crisp. He loves the way the air outside seems to sing for him: it’s the feeling of anticipation he always associates with holidays.

This year is different, though—entirely unlike any of his previous lonely, longing winters.

Zen pushes open the bedroom door and crosses to the main room on light feet, expecting to find Lea perched on the couch—probably checking the weather or how long it’ll take for them to get where they’re going or something else he never remembers to do. It’s always her who’s ready first.

But no: Lea sits in the middle of the living room floor, skirt pooling around her in a puddle of gauze, half-empty rolls of wrapping paper and bows scattered across her lap. She’s focused, gaze trained on the box in her hands, perfect fingers making a neat crease in the shiny wrapping paper.

“Not ready yet, angel?” Zen stands in the doorway and Lea looks up, pretty eyes widening. After all this time, he should be used to the way she looks at him—but heat still pools in the pit of his stomach whenever she smiles.

“You look perfect,” she tells him. He tosses his hair and positions himself under the brightest part of the golden overhead light, needing to linger a moment longer in the warmth of her appreciation. Once upon a time, he made himself beautiful because it was the only way he knew how to survive; now, he finds that the world’s admiration means less and less to him every day.

If Lea looks at him with love, the stars shine brighter. Her affection means more than any fantasy of fame and fortune.

She’s still watching him. Her eyes sparkle.

“You look like a knight in shining armor,” she says. “As always.” She sets down the gift—perfectly-wrapped—and beams at him.

“A Christmas knight?” Zen goes to her, pulling a cushion from the couch and sinking to the floor by her side. There’s a pile of presents wrapped in pink paper next to her, a glittering bow placed on the very top of each one.

Lea laughs. “What’s the difference between a Christmas knight and a regular one?”

Zen leans in to brush her shoulder with his lips and she shivers almost imperceptibly, just like he hoped she would.

“A Christmas knight helps his princess prepare presents for her loyal subjects,” he croons, lifting the bag of bows. Lea arches her eyebrows—and she’d never say you aren’t helping, but the expression gives her away. Zen grins and dips his head to kiss both of her wrists. “What, this isn’t helpful?”

Lea touches his cheek. She’s so gentle it makes his heart ache.

“You’re always helpful, darling.” She turns her gaze back to the unwrapped gifts at her side—two left now—and Zen wraps both arms around her waist, tugging her flush against his body.

“Have I told you yet how beautiful you look, cherub?” he whispers. She shivers again and he parts her hair to kiss the back of her neck. “So pretty I almost don’t want to let you leave this house.”

Zen knows how to stir her imagination—he’s an expert. He expects her to twist in his arms—to tilt her face so she’s looking in his eyes—to lay a hand on his chest and call him lovely.

But Lea doesn’t turn. She’s reaching forward, rolling out wrapping paper with swift, steady gestures—and for the first time, Zen notices her energy is unsteady.

He doesn’t know how he missed it till now.

“Princess,” he says—slowly, not sure where he’s headed. “Look at me?” “Just a minute,” she mutters—oh, and it’s there in her voice too: a sense of unease, or a hint of hurry. “Let me finish first.”

Zen knows her better than the beating of his heart—feels all his own insecurities and hesitations when he holds her close.

“Lea,” he says—her name instead of a term of endearment, so she knows he’s serious. “Please?”

She goes stiff for a split second and then she’s spinning in his arms; he lifts the fluid fabric of her skirt so her legs are draped across his thighs. It’s hard to see straight when she’s in his lap like this: small and delicate and sweet and soft. He kisses the tip of her nose.

“You’re glad we’re getting together with everyone tonight,” he says, pulling a single curl from her hair and coiling it round his fingertip. “You want to go, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” She sounds serious, and he knows she means it: celebrating with their found family means at least as much to her as it does to him.

But the apartment smells like cinnamon and cloves and there’s snow on the roof and Lea is wrapping gifts with a fervor Zen recognizes. He has adored her ardent desire to make people feel loved since the first day he met her—now, though, he sees how easy it is for her to lose herself in her own altruism.

“You do everything for everyone,” he whispers, taking the half-wrapped gift from her fingers, lifting her hand to his lips. “Let me do everything for you.”

Lea stares up at him, and he finds her so hopelessly kissable he can hardly contain himself. 

“I like giving people gifts,” she says. He tilts her chin up and she lets him, melting into his touch like just-fallen snow.

Zen already knows that Lea would do anything for the people she loves—that she sees the holidays as another excuse to make everyone smile.

For him, holidays are all about her.

“Of course you do, darling girl.” He traces her jaw with a finger and she goes pink (oh, he hopes that even after an eternity, she’ll keep on blushing for him). “You’re an angel, and I’m just a selfish man who loves you.”

“What’s so selfish about you?” she asks (though he’s sure she already knows).

“Because you want to wrap everyone’s gifts up neatly and I just want you to kiss me.” It’s a lie, and it’s also the truth—he wants to be kissed by her every bit as much as he always does; he needs her to hold him instead of working to make the world feel good.

“If I’m kissing you,” she murmurs, giggling, “who will wrap the rest of these gifts?”

Zen tosses his hair and beams down at her.

“Aha,” he crows, delighted. “Didn’t I tell you that I’m the Christmas knight?”

Lea lifts her pretty eyebrows again, and Zen is glad to see her teasing him rather than protesting.

“Will you do a good job?” she asks, laughing a little at his insistence. He is already adjusting her in his lap, reaching around her small body to lift the sheet of wrapping paper she’s already cut from the roll. 

“Don’t I always?” Zen sets the box in the center of the wrapping paper and feels Lea watching his hands. He knows it’s important for her that it’s perfect—that everything’s just right—that she’s filled the universe with as much warmth as she can muster.

The only person Zen needs to see smiling is the angel perched delicately on his lap. He’ll make her sit back and be held if it’s the death of him.

And it’s a sort of death, having her lips on his skin. She twists in his arms and covers his jaw in feather-light kisses, just like he asked her to. He wonders if she sees the way she makes his hands shake. 

“How am I doing, princess?” He tapes the paper closed and sets one of the sparkly silver bows on top. Lea pauses to admire his handiwork, and then her arms are around his neck.

“Beautiful,” she whispers in his ear, “just like you.”

Zen used to dream of Christmas.

When he was alone, he’d imagine holding hands in a snowstorm and sharing a single scarf, cuddling under thick blankets when it’s cold and dancing beside a glittering tree. But Lea wasn’t like him in this way: she didn’t wait all year for twinkling lights and snowflakes on her tongue. The holidays didn’t remind her of bodies pressed together and laughter that shimmers in the air long after it’s stopped making a sound.

None of Zen’s fantasies matter to him so much as the small, warm person he holds in his arms. He could spend Christmas anywhere in the world as long as she’s with him—wouldn’t change a second of his long lonely life, because all the darkness has led him to Lea.

“You’ve changed everything,” he says, so soft he isn’t sure she can hear. But she hears (she always does), and she takes his face in both of her hands, gazing at him with the brightness of someone who knows how fervently she’s loved.

She is the strongest person Zen has ever known, but even strong princesses need a knight to remind them they matter the most.

“Thanks for holding me,” she says, which really means thank you for making me the center of your world.

Zen smiles: cinnamon eyes, tinsel heart.

“No, angel,” he whispers, holder her closer. “Thank you for letting me.”

It’s not the holiday making the air outside shimmer with promise. It’s her (it’s always been her).

#mystic messenger #zen #cmc lea #zen x lea #mystic messenger gift exchange #gift writing #i love lea ❤️❤️❤️

[uwuwriting]

Momo, Mina, Jirou and Uraraka with a soft, affectionate girlfriend

So there wasn’t only one request for my girls here, there were like five so imma just improvise with the summary here, Basically how the girls would be like with an affectionate and cute/soft girlfriend. Ya know my bi ass has had a crush on Mina since day 1 and Momo can like step on me. I haven’t written anything for our girl squad like ever and that should be a crime. Love ya. 💖💖💖

rules

masterlist

warnings: fluff 

Momo Yaoyorozu

-Soft girl herself. 

-Although she is a straight up dom, her soft girly and flustered side comes out while you two spend time together. 

-She loves your clothes, will literally have a stroke if she sees you in a soft baby pink outfits. 

-You look extra cute and soft and fluffy and oh so kissable. 

-Your bubbly personality scares her insecurities away. 

-Like if she starts doubting herself while you’re around you mind go into killer mode and roundhouse her ass for talking bad about herself. 

-She is really impressed by your emotional switch. 

-I mean she physically sees you being all lovey dovey with her and your friends, the sweetest brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced this earth and the moment Mineta opens his mouth to say some shit your aura changes. 

-You can almost see the darkness that surrounds you while the grape talks. 

-A savage. 

-Although you are a really feminine individual no one should dare underestimate you. 

-She becomes an extra proud girlfriend when she sees you kick some Bakugou ass because he called you a girly extra.

-Low key scared of your berserk mode but she loves you. 

-Soft dates. 

-She knows you love colorful flowers and you are generally really closely connected with nature so dates to the park or to the cherry blossoms during spring are necessary. 

-Her family loves you. 

-They welcomed you with open arms the very first time you stepped in their home as Momo’s friend. 

-Her mom could see how much her daughter liked you and she shipped it. 

-Her and Mina are your number 1 stans. 

-Expect to be spoiled to death. 

-You glance at a dress while you two are out on a date? 

-Its in your closet the very next day. 

-You bake for her and she falls even deeper in love with you. 

-She’s weak for your cakes and more often than not she will sneak some into her room. 

-Your cuddling powers are out of this world. 

-She will come to your dorm after a long day and just lose herself in your embrace. 

-She only sleeps in your room if you ask her to stay the night. 

-Despite how tired she may be she will pick herself up and drag her feet to her room. 

-All in all a wholesome relationship.

-Soft babiesss 

Mina Ashido

-Ah yes my wife.

-I’m a freaking simp for her. 

-Crack heads.

-Periodt.

-She loves your soft girly aesthetic and even tries to copy your style so you could be matching girlfriends. 

-The pink becomes too much though so she settles for different colors. 

-You propose white and pale green. 

-She takes your advice and goes out the very same day for shopping. 

-Dragging you, Jirou, Sero and Denki along. 

-Your friend group is fed up with how clingy she could be. 

-Like legit she will hang from your arm constantly and will whine if you have to leave her behind because reasons. 

-Bakugou is this close ( -><-) to blasting her into the next dimension. 

-She is a scaredy cat and jumps at the smallest sound. 

-You take that in your advantage and take up the rule as the knight in shining armor. 

-Movie nights are usually horror nights for the two of you and you always puff up your chest in an attempt to appear tough. 

-The pink accessories kinda ruin it though. 

-She finds it funny how you talk about beating someone’s ass while you are wearing a unicorn onesie. 

-She has a matching one though so sh isn’t one to talk. 

-Just like Momo she is scarred of your berserk mode. 

-Not scarred for her life but for the rest of the class. 

-And god forbid Mineta says something about her. 

-She can see the raging flames growing around you as he continues to go on about how hot it must be to be sandwiched between you two. 

-She has to hold you back from bashing his face in. 

-Although if he pushes it too much she lets you go and mayhem ensues. 

-She really enjoys your cooking. 

-Always present when you are baking for two reasons. 

- A) to eat some of the batter because its delicious. 

- B) to tease you and make a mess.

-She tried cooking along side you once but it was a disaster. 

-Her excuse was that you were too pretty so you distracted her. 

-She used salt instead of sugar. 

- “They’re both white baby!!”

- “So is cocaine you dummy.”

- “We have cocaine?”

-Face palm. 

-She won’t leave your room if you begin to cuddle. 

-Begin is a strong word considering she won’t allow you to let her go. 

-So continue suits this situation more. 

-She doesn’t care how you two cuddle as long as she has you in her arms or vice versa. 

-Wrapping her arms around your waist while you study, placing you in her lap while she games with Sero, laying you on top of her so you can fall asleep after a long day or simply holding your hand. 

-She just wants to feel close to you. 

-The closer the better. 

-Says I love you at least three times a day.

-I want my Mina!!!!

Jirou Kyouka

-Music girlfriends.

-She has a whole song dedicated to you. 

-She even sang it during the UA festival. 

-You are really into lofi music and really soft, fluffy songs so she makes you a playlist with her favorite lofi songs. 

-She loves when you hum along with her. 

-She knows you have a good voice but since you don’t feel comfortable singing she doesn’t push it. 

-Stands there and sways along with the rhythm.

-Swears that when you do sing you  become an angel on earth.

-Blinding brightness. 

-Finds it funny how your aesthetics collide. 

-There you are the softy pink fairy full of flowers and sunshine. 

-And next to you stands Jirou, her dark clothes making a big contrast to your baby pink skirt. 

-You adore the difference and make it your mission to dress as brightly as possible making the difference stand out even more. 

-You make her bentos like daily. 

-Really appreciates it. 

-She doesn’t have to wait for lunch. 

-Plus your cooking is wow. 

-She doesn’t really like shopping but will come with you if you want her to. 

-Any time spent with you is enough for her. 

-She spends most of her time at the guitar store lol. 

-You bought her a new guitar for her birthday and you made her cry. 

-It had her initials on it too. 

-You walk to class together every morning and go back to the dorms holding hands. 

-Says a sweet little I love you when you part ways for your training. 

-Scared for her life when you get mad. 

-That sinister smile that spreads across your face when you hear Mineta say something about her boobs is the scariest sight in the whole world. 

-Screw Shigaraki. 

-You can be the new master of evil with that smile.

-You are not violent though so she doesn’t have to hold you back... physically. 

-Your words can be true venom. 

-She has to clam you down before you make Mineta cry. 

-Could kill for your cuddles. 

-Doesn’t like to admit it but she really loves being the little spoon and would just nudge you without speaking.

-You of course get the message and hug your girl. 

-She is surprised by how strong you are. 

-You can lift her while she clinges to your front or back like she weighs nothing. 

-Walks around with Jirou wrapped around your torso like a koala. 

-She loves it, you love it everyone else finds it kinda weird when they spot you but who cares? 

-Spends the night in your dorm regularly. 

-She doesn’t even ask she just falls asleep in your bed, taking all the space and making you squeeze between the wall and her. 

-Lovely little sweethearts. 

Uraraka Ochako

-Um you are being soft together. 

-Soft girlfriends™.

-You share clothes all the time since your aesthetics kinda match. 

-You two can be demons if provoked. 

-A third party has to intervene if someone insults you and you go into protective mode. 

-You both get that dark look in your eyes as you stare down at Mineta. 

-Really she’ll just through him up into the sky and you’ll use your quirk to send him to America. 

-Deku and Iida protect the class from you.

-In general though, when you aren’t being feral beasts sworn to protect the innocent, you are two little angels. 

-Your soft aesthetic completes her perfectly and your caring nature goes hand in hand with her mom-friend tendencies. 

-Caring girlfriends. 

-You babysit Deku together and take care of him when he starts breaking...everything. 

-She really likes training with you. 

-She finds it fun and oh so attractive when you are coming at her. 

-May have a small kink right there. 

-Power play maybe......

-Cooking.Dates!!!!!

-She likes to cook so when she found out that you are amazing in the kitchen she was hooked. 

-You might spend hours and hours just baking sweets and then passing them around the dorms. 

-Like Momo she only stays the night if you ask her or mention having a sleepover. 

-Otherwise she will gather her stuff and go back to her room. 

-Cuddles cuddles cuddles. 

-You are obsessed. 

-She is so soft to the touch and you fall asleep instantly.

-She loves it when you fall asleep on her. 

-You’re like her wittle baby. 

-Holding hands is a must wherever you are. 

-Walking to class? linked pinkies.

-Out on a date? Intertwined fingers.

-Hanging out in the common room watching a movie with the rest of the class? Linked elbows. 

-Chilling in your dorm? An arm around her shoulder. 

-Really touchy in general. 

-Not too touchy though because she respects the others around you. 

-Plus you are friends with Iida.

-He will push you apart if he sees you remotely kissing her cheek. 

-Class 1-A’s favorite couple. 

-So freaking cute omggggg.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​

#momo x reader #momo yaoyorozu #momo x you #momo x y/n #yaoyorozu x reader #mina #mina x reader #mina x y/n #mina x you #mina ashido x reader #ashido x reader #jirou x reader #jirou x you #jirou x y/n #uraraka x reader #uraraka x you #uraraka x y/n #ochako x you #ochako x reader #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Ress, Ress, wait,” Elide exclaimed, skittering to a stop as she tried to turn the corner. Her soft spoken bodyguard had been acting strangely ever since they had invited Fenrys to the palace. 

He reluctantly stopped, not meeting her eyes. “Hey, Elide.” Ress slunk away when she tried to touch his shoulder and she dropped her hand, a little pathetically. 

She tried to smile, tilting her head to the side, “I-I feel like no one’s seen you for ages, Ress. You know, if there’s ever something wrong, you can talk to me about it.” 

“Not about this,” he whispered. Ress looked down the hall, looking for a way to leave. 

Elide tried again, not ready to just let him leave, “Was it your boy?” She had a slight smile in her voice, trying to get a rise out of him or at least make him blush. His kind eyes hardened and she knew she had said the wrong thing. “Wait, Ress, please, I’m sorry- I-I didn’t mean to–” 

“Elide.” He said, his voice hard, brooking no room for argument. “I don’t want to talk about this and definitely,” he huffed a icy laugh, “definitely not with you, so please. Leave me alone.” Ress brushed by her without another word, walking quickly down the hall. 

Elide stood in shock, trying not to cry. After too long, she walked over to her old rooms, which they were fixing up for Fenrys. She nodded and tried to smile at the painters, whispering greetings to them. 

She sidled up to Lysandra, who was directing movers. “Hey.” 

Lysandra’s warm grin fell at Elide’s expression, “Hey, lovie. Wh-what’s wrong?” She ran a soothing hand down Elide’s back. 

“I think something happened with Ress and his boy and he- I think it’s my fault but I don’t know why,” Elide said, trying to not cry by tilting her face upwards. 

“How could it be your fault, El,” Lysandra asked, putting down her tablet. “He just wants a little space right now, I’m sure.” 

Elide nodded, not believing her friend in the slightest, but hoping she was right all the same. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan’s phone rang and he didn’t bother looking at the caller before he picked it up, “Hello?” 

“Lor, is that you, you fuckin’ bastard?”  

A lazy grin pulled at his lips and he sat back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk, “Marama.” 

Fenrys laughed brightly and Lorcan could almost see his friend’s shit-eating grin. “Heard you're trying to steal some poor girl’s throne, hmm? Seems fitting for Hellas’ spawn.” 

Lorcan rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and you’re the poor guy they called to slap a ring on her pretty lil’ finger.” 

“Ooh, she’s pretty?”  

Elide Lochan was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, but Lorcan kept that to himself. “She’s… nice to look at.” 

“Mmm, is that jealousy?” 

Lorcan felt something grow in his chest and he swallowed, some of his joking swagger leaving him, “Have at her, Fen. She’s feisty. I think you’ll like her.” 

Fenrys chuckled again, “Tell me again how many times she’s slapped you. It brings me such joy.”  

“Sadist,” Lorcan grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “And twice. The first was an accident.” 

“And the second?”  

His cheeks burned and he was grateful he was in his rooms with no one around, “I… uh, I might’ve called her ‘sweetheart’ or something.” 

“Hellas save you, man. You really are a fucking dumbass.” 

Lorcan rolled his eyes again, “I realise that, Fen. When’s your plane getting in, anyway?” 

The man on the end of the line hummed, “Mmm, in a couple days. Did you know I get a fancy room at the palace?”  

“Yeah, well, me too,” Lorcan shot back, smiling smugly. “You aren’t that special.” Fenrys just huffed and something crossed Lorcan’s mind, “Hey, weren’t you talking to some guy? What, ah, what are you doing about that?” 

“I ended it,” Fenrys said in a nonchalant voice. “He seemed fine with it, so no feelings were hurt, I guess.”

“And what about you? Are you fine with it?” 

“Couldn’t be more fine with it.” 

“Mmm, whatever you say, Fen.” 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide ran down the hall, trying to go as quickly as possible. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, trying not to tip over in her three-inch heels. She was running as fast as she could, but her strides were shortened by her tight, fitted houndstooth skirt and the matching coat she carried in her arms. 

She attempted to slow down when she turned the corner into the foyer, but ended up sliding and windmilling her arms. Elide crashed into Rowan, groaning softly, “Shit, sorry, Ro.” She shrugged her coat on, flipping her hair out from under the collar. “How do I look?” 

“Ravishing,” said a new voice, one she had never heard before. Elide spun, her eyes landing on a beautiful man. “If I may say so myself.” 

“You must be Fenrys,” she replied, her cheeks burning. She surveyed him from head to toe. He had cut off his dreads, his hair now bleached blonde and shaved close to his skull. It was styled in a meticulous, 360° wave pattern, which no doubt took years of mastering. 

Fenrys smiled, his cheek dimpling, and then he bowed, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Elide. I am humbled that you think someone like me could be your knight in shining armor.” 

Elide liked him immediately and laughed, holding out her hand for him to shake, “I am forever in your debt, good sir.” His hand was large and warm, his grip not too tight and not too loose. Perfect. “How was your trip from Doranelle?” 

“Oh, uneventful, I’d say. Lovely plane you’ve got,” he said, flashing her another grin. Fenrys’ dark eyes had a cheeky gleam in them that Elide instantly adored. 

“Oh, that old thing?” she asked flippantly. “That’s just something we have lying around.” Fenrys laughed, the sound warm and booming as it echoed through the hall. Elide smiled, turning back to Aelin and Rowan, who were in the midst of exchanging a secret glance. “Your Majesties, Fenrys Marama.” 

Fenrys bowed to Aelin, “My queen.” Aelin dipped her chin, sending a giddy grin to Elide. I like him, Elide mouthed as Fenrys and Rowan said their greetings. 

Elide looked around for Ress, wondering if her bodyguard was feeling better. In his place, another guard stood, looking much more intimidating and imposing than Ress ever did. She turned to Lysandra, whispering softly, “Where’s Ress?” 

“He’s taken some time off, not feeling well,” Lysandra murmured back. “Now, you and Fenrys are going to have a walk in the gardens. A photographer will be there, but just ignore them.” 

Elide nodded, turning back to Fenrys. The man smiled again, offering Elide his arm. She slipped her hand into his elbow and he said, “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Three days later and Elide didn’t think she would ever tire of Fenrys’ company. He was hilarious and kind, his humour more bold and obvious than Elide’s, but they paired well together. 

She had learned that his favourite colour was yellow, his birthday was exactly two months after hers - August twelfth - his favourite sport was soccer and he had gone to the University of Varese on a soccer scholarship. Though his degree was in political science, and he planned to become a lawyer, Fenrys had an aptitude for photography and carried his camera almost everywhere with him. 

His older brother, Connall, was quieter than him, the dark side of the same coin. They had grown up in Doranelle their whole lives. Fenrys said he was grateful that he was the spare, because it gave him the freedom to explore the world as he had always itched to do. 

“Ellie,” he called, beckoning her over to where he was bent over a flower bush. 

Elide walked over to him, leaning down next to him, “What is it?” 

“A butterfly,” he said, lifting his camera to snap a picture. It was as if the soft click of the frame had bothered the delicate creature and it took off, fluttering in the air to a new perch. Fenrys pouted, sad that his new friend left so soon. 

Elide chuckled, “Don’t worry, sweetie-pie.” That was a new thing they had started the other day. Elide called him ‘sweetie-pie’ and in return, Fenrys had dubbed her ‘honeybunch’. It annoyed everyone around them, these overly affectionate names, and the pair thrived off everyone’s irritation. 

Fenrys laughed softly and stood up, slinging his arm around her shoulders, “You hungry? I think it’s time for lunch.” 

She smiled, wrapping her arm around his waist, “You always think it’s time for…” Elide trailed off as a certain someone walked into the garden, a book in his hands. Immediately, she scowled. 

“Honeybunch, are you alright?” 

Elide nodded, still frowning as Lorcan sat down on a bench and opened his book. He must’ve noticed her staring and looked up, flashing her a cocky grin that she wanted to slap off his perfect, beautiful face. “‘m fine,” she muttered, balling her free hand into a fist. 

Fenrys looked up, following her eyeline to Lorcan, who he faked a confused frown at, deciding it would be best if Elide didn’t know their connection. “Who’s that?” 

“Hellas incarnate,” she said, tugging Fenrys along to the castle. “He’s the other heir. I hate him.” 

Fenrys nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, “Don’t worry, he won’t succeed. That’s why I’m here.” 

“Ah, yes, my knight in shining armor,” Elide said in a simpering tone, batting her eyelashes. 

Her friend rolled his eyes, bumping her with his hip, “Shut up, stupid.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

My dearest honeybunch, snookums, Elide, Meet me in the garden, at dawn, should you dare Forever and truly, Your most beloved sweetie-pie 

Elide snorted at the note in her hand once more, shaking her head as she walked down the stairs. The whole proposal was planned out and still, Fenrys had used every loophole that he could to make it feel like it wasn’t just a business deal. 

She wore a pretty pink midi skirt and an oversized, cream-coloured sweater. On her feet she had on another pair of rounded-toe pumps, cream to match her top. Her hair was curled and loosely falling down her back, two sections pinned in the back to pull her hair away from her face. 

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she walked out into the garden, spotting Fenrys sitting beneath a lilac tree. He stood up when he saw her, smiling broadly, “Good morning, Elide.” 

“Good morning, Fenrys,” she said, rolling her eyes when he took her hand and bent to kiss her knuckles. “Will you tell me why you’ve summoned me out here?” 

“Let us sit,” he told her, motioning her to the stone bench he had been resting upon. 

Elide sat, her hands folded in her lap. Fenrys joined her, his knee knocking into hers. She knew the paparazzi and the press were peeking through the garden fence and gate, their cameras flashing as they snapped a flurry of shots. “Over the past week,” Fenrys started, reaching over to hold her hands in his, “I have had the absolute pleasure of getting to know you and I have fallen desperately in love with your entire being.” 

Elide bit her lip to stop from laughing, nodding serenely, “Of course.” 

Fenrys’ eyes held a warning light, telling her if she laughed, he would laugh too. “And I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you so I ask thee,” he slid off the bench, smoothly pulling a velvet box from his pocket as he kneeled and flipped the lid open, “if you would do me the greatest honour in life and become my wife. Elide Amara Lochan, will you marry me?” 

She lifted her hand to her throat, the tears in her eyes forming in an effort to keep from snorting and ruining it all, “Oh, sweetie-pie. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes!” Fenrys grinned wickedly and slid the ring onto her finger. 

Elide flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Fen,” she whispered, eyeing the diamond ring on her finger. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her with him as he stood up. 

For some reason, the sinking feeling in her gut didn’t dissipate and Elide had to hold back tears of grief. 

Everything is fine, she told herself, you’re happy. The happiest you’ve ever been.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Lorcan drawled as Elide walked into the library. 

She froze and turned, glaring at him. “Thank you,” she said tightly, her back straight. “I’m very happy with him.” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” he replied, smirking at her before returning to his book. He could tell she hadn’t moved and looked up again, “Is there something I can help you with, sweetheart?” Her cheeks reddened as her eyes flashed dangerously. 

Lorcan idly thought he should be scared of her, but he wasn’t in the slightest. He ran his eyes down her body, stifling the urge to reach out and wrap her up in his arms. She looked so soft in her black leggings and slouchy grey cashmere sweater that slipped down one arm. 

“I am,” Elide insisted, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her stack of books. “I am very happy with Fenrys. We’re in love.” 

Lorcan snorted, looking down at his book. He didn’t read a single word, “Don’t be dumb.” 

“I am not dumb, Lorcan,” she hissed. 

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re dumb, I think you’re being dumb,” he said, flipping the page. “Because if you were being smart, you would know that you could never be happy with Fenrys and,” he lifted his eyes up to her angered gaze, her cheeks still pink, “he could never fall in love with someone like you.” 

The angered light in her eyes guttered. It was replaced by crushing sorrow and she quickly looked away from him, “Well, you would know, wouldn’t you? I can’t ever imagine someone loving you.” Without another word, Elide turned away from him and walked deeper into the library. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Ready?” 

Elide breathed out slowly, resting her hand on Fenrys’ forearm, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

They walked to the formal dining room, their steps sure and measured. “You look rather dashing,” Elide said, appraising her fiancé in a fitted suit. 

Fenrys flashed her a grin, taking her hand and twirling her under his arm. Elide laughed, but the unwarranted thought in her mind was that it felt nothing like when Lorcan had spun her around. “As do you,” Fenrys said, resting his hand on her lower back, her black dress offering an open back. The neckline was square with delicate straps, its skirt ending just beneath her knees with a back slit that allowed her to walk normally even with the snug fit.  

Fenrys led her to the hall and Elide saw Ress standing with Lysandra at the door. He didn’t look pleased to be there, so she held herself back and simply nodded at him. He gave her a small smile and she tucked the little victory into her heart, not noticing how he glanced at Fenrys and immediately dropped his gaze. 

She didn’t notice how Fenrys locked his jaw and stared straight ahead, tears burning in his eyes, either.

“Are we ready?” Lysandra asked, her eyes sparkling. Elide nodded, shooting her friend a grateful smile.

She and Fenrys waited outside the room as the majordomo announced from inside, “Presenting, her royal Grace, Lady Elide, and Lord Fenrys of Doranelle.”

The double doors were pulled open by two men. The couple smiled and waved politely as they walked to their seats. Aelin and Rowan were standing at the head of the table. 

The queen stayed standing as the guests all sat, raising her glass of champagne to Elide and Fenrys, “Thank you all for joining us today as we celebrate the engagement of my dear cousin, Elide, and Fenrys. I could not be more happy for the two of you.” She lifted her glass as the others did and toasted, “To Elide and Fenrys!” 

Elide lifted her glass, staring across the table at Lorcan as he mockingly tilted his head to the side and toasted them. “To the happy, happy couple,” he said, just loud enough for Elide to hear him. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide viciously cut a bite-sized piece of her veal, scowling the entire time at Lorcan, who just smiled back at her and chewed slowly on his own food. 

She hoped that he choked. 

He spoke quietly with his aunt, who looked like she wanted to throttle either Elide or Fenrys or maybe the both of them. 

Elide smirked at the thought, smug knowing she had bested Maeve. Her uncle looked displeased as well as he pushed his food around his plate, glowering down at something and on occasion, up at Lorcan. 

She watched as Vernon lifted his head to glare at her arch nemesis. Lorcan just sipped on his whiskey and regarded Vernon with a bored expression, his body language open and unimpressed. Glancing down his frame, Elide swallowed hard at the sight of his white dress shirt. Lorcan had forgone a tie, somehow managing to pull it off and not look out of place amidst Elide’s formally dressed guests. He wore a navy suit, the colour making an arresting match with his copper skintone. 

The top buttons of his shirt were opened, the white material straining over his muscular chest. She caught a glimpse of black ink and a flush appeared on her chest as she imagined tracing her tongue over it. 

Shaking her head, she looked up at Fenrys, smiling, “How are you?” 

He lowered his head to her ear, “I’m doing quite well, Elide. And you?” 

“I’m good,” Elide said, sighing in relief when servers cleared their plates for the next course. “Bit tired.” 

He slid his hand between the back of the chair and her, easing the strain from her shoulders with a soothing touch. Elide sighed, easing into it by a bit. It still wasn’t as comfortable as she wished it was. 

It was the touch of a friend, a confidant, but not one of a lover. Shame coursed through her as the memory of Lorcan’s hand on her back was the first thing she thought of. 

Fenrys’ touch was nothing like that and she wished so badly that it was. 

+*+*+*+*+*+* 

Lorcan watched Fenrys rub Elide’s back, watched how she let the royal, regal mask slip. A pang of jealousy echoed in his chest and he knocked back the rest of his whiskey, savouring the slight burn that accompanied the amber liquid. 

Still, she didn’t relax completely. An image of her, something his mind made up, took up his brain. Elide, tired and exhausted, melting into his side. She smiled sleepily, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his chest. He dropped whatever he was doing and lifted her into his arms, gently carrying her to a bed - their bed. 

The hissing voice of his aunt startled him out of his reverie. “What, Maeve,” he said, looking down at his plate to find that they had moved onto the last course of desert. Thank the Creator. 

“Were you even listening to a thing I said,” she snapped, viciously deconstructing the delicate chocolate and espresso pot de crème. 

“No.” Lorcan looked at Fenrys, who was shooting him a worried look as he glanced between Lorcan and Maeve and Elide’s horrid uncle. If Lorcan had to choose one man he hated with his entire soul, it was Vernon Lochan. He had heard the story of Elide’s injury and the moment he had met Vernon, he had had to refrain from inflicting the very same pain and abuse onto the weaselly regent. “What do you want?” 

His aunt huffed, “We still have a chance at the throne, Lorcan.” 

“Of course we do,” he said drily, watching Fenrys whisper something that had Elide covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed. Her eyes sparkled and her nose scrunched up and she looked so happy. 

Lorcan hated Fenrys in that moment. He hated him so damn much. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Maeve had finally left. She had been telling him bullshit about how they could still win, Elide could still be ineligible. 

Eventually, he had just told her he would talk to her another day and he was tired. Lorcan stood on the dining room balcony, staring out at the forest. He had a crystal glass of whiskey in his hands, the singular ice cube melting. Lorcan had been waiting too long to drink it. 

The door opened behind him and he didn’t need to turn to know that it was Fenrys. 

“Lorcan,” Fenrys said, his voice low. 

He turned, offering a tight smile, “Congrats, Fen. I’m real happy for you guys.” Lorcan drank deeply from his glass, a slight buzz numbing him. “Real fuckin’ happy.” 

Fenrys arched a brow, not believing him in the slightest. In his hands, he carried an unopened bottle of liquor, “Really?” 

“Mm-hmm. I think you’ll,” he coughed, his throat tight, “you’ll make her really happy, Fen.” 

“Lor, don’t fucking lie to me.” 

“I am not fucking lying to you, Fen,” he said, his voice raising. “I hope that you make Elide Lochan happy. I hope that she makes you happy because if she doesn’t, what the fuck is the point of any of this?” He waved his hand, “Yeah, and I know it’s my fault, it’s all I think about.” 

Lorcan breathed in deeply, putting his glass down, “You told me you were in love, Fen. With that boy, you called me when you were blackout drunk and were crying over how much you loved him. How do you just… give that up for some girl you don’t know?” 

Fenrys sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes, “The boy… he didn’t love me. Not yet, at least, and I couldn’t stand waiting around for it so… yeah. I gave whatever that was up for some girl I didn’t know. She needed help, don’t you get that?” 

Lorcan just shook his head and pulled Fenrys into a tight hug. Better than most people, he thought to himself, not noticing dark eyes watching him through the opened door.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: ......i feel like that was a lot of stuff that happened. wow. 

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse  @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @januarystears @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @magicalunicorngypsy @elriel4life @sensitiveillyrian

#knowing me knowing you #kmky chapter six #princess diaries au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #the fact that it's only gonna get messier from now on.......wow 😳 oopsie

[wavesmp3]

the sea is yours to take

pairing: wen junhui x fem!reader genre: royalty au, high fantasy, romance, slow burn   warnings: mentions of death, violence (but it’s usually friendly) wc: 36k (it’s so long, i know, i’m sorry)

synopsis: The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far away from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts.   a/n: this is so long, and the beginning is kind of slow but like, i think it’d be pretty dope if you were to stick it out just sayin

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Lady Gift,” the words rush out of the servant’s mouth, you hum allowing him to continue, “The King asks of your presence.”

“Very well then. Tell him I’m him coming,”

And as soon as the servant had entered the equipment room, he leaves as well. Out of fear. Out of urgency. Perhaps out of both. You had assumed it was only a matter of time until the King would call for you. Afterall, murdering one of his most trusted lords who’s also a member of his council is not a crime that goes undiscussed.

You look around the training room. The walls are adorned with swords, daggers and knives. Some of your own and some of belonging to the Golden Palace. You grab a dagger off the wall and push it in your boot. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared in the case anything was to happen.

You walk along the walls, dragging out the time before your presence with the King. Your eyes and feet stop when you come across a sword, one that was gifted to you by the youngest prince himself. You take it off the wall, testing the balance of the sword in your hand. The sword is beautiful, a gold blade that shines with the brightness of the Zalazar River. The hilt of the sword is a piece of art more than it’s a handle. You think that the hilt should be gawked at in a museum instead of collecting dust at the end of a sword. Two figures emerge from the black stone of the hilt. As if they were trapped inside the stone before the maker carved them out. As if they would have been lost in the fog of the black stone if the maker hadn’t given them air to breathe. You turn the hilt and study it carefully. Prince Seungkwan had requested the maker carve out one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit and one of the Seven Sins. Specifically, Prince Seungkwan asked for you, the Gift of Fortitude. As for the Sin, the maker chose to bring the Sin of Greed to life. You aren’t exactly sure how he did considering there are no pictures or paintings of the Sins and Gifts apart from the sculptures in the southern temples. Even then, you’re sure most of the sanctuaries that housed the sculptures were destroyed long ago. Nonetheless, the Sin of Greed emerges from the other side of the stone, and in some way the Sin of Greed looks familiar to you despite having never known Greed. Prince Seungkwan had excitedly gifted this to you and explained in great detail the trouble he went through to get it done. At the time, Seungkwan had been much younger and things had been so much simpler. You wonder what Seungkwan would say to you now. The thought tastes bitter in your mind.

“Did you hear that the King is waiting for you?” The familiar tones of his voice crash over you like a wave. The corners of your mouth lift.

You put the sword back carefully. “Yes, it has come to my attention,” you say as if it’s an afterthought, in a sense it is.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I guess the King will have to wait his turn.”

You rush to Hansol and embrace him in a long hug. You can feel the longing in his arms. It warms your heart.

“I’ve missed you dearly, Hansol.”

He grins. “I as well.”

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone.” You tell him seriously, reminded of the King you’ve kept waiting.

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

“Yes, everything,” he says into your hair. The next part he whispers. “So, tell me, what warrants you murdering Lord Mark.”

Instead of answering, you pull away. “I’m afraid I must go. The King has asked for my presence.”

Hansol’s eyes flash with a certain color of betrayal that prods at the tender parts of your heart. It pains you to see the tired bags under his eyes and the droop of his lips. You assume your face mirrors something close to his.

“Like I said, a lot has changed here Hansol.”

“It’s actually…” he pauses, a small smile appearing on his face, “it’s actually Captain Hansol now.”

“Oh.” You say simply. “Well congratulations Captain Hansol. The Knights of the Holy Order are lucky to have someone as gifted as you.”

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” He smiles boyishly.

“That you did.”

You’re reminded of the lifetime before his enrollment in the army, the Knights of the Holy Order. The memory makes you sad. Despite the bleached shade to his brown hair and the dimness in his usually light eyes, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps a lot had changed for him too.

You’re both quiet for a moment. Until he asks, “Now about Seungkwan-”

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JUN—

Jun rolls out the knots in his neck and tries to stretch out the ones forming in his back. The two day journey north to the King’s City was taking longer than expected. Unlike his father, Jun was not one for traveling. To Jun nothing seemed particularly glamorous about the reality of riding on horseback for days and nights on end. Jun was much too content with staying by the sea at the estate which Jun called home. There, at his estate, the town was self-governed and quiet. There Jun felt peace. Here, on his horse's saddle finally reaching a clearing in the woods, Jun feels most notably irritable (although boredom and tire are a close second). Here, faced with the reality of traveling, Jun understands even less why his father and Captain Wonwoo put up with it. 

“We are approaching the Zalazar River," the first guard calls from the front of the party. 

"Lord Jun," Wonwoo says riding up from the rear, "I think you'll like this." 

And of course, Wonwoo is right. Jun has heard the tales about the Zalazar River. Tales of a river so deep that submarines could easily ride along the current without ever being detected. Tales of a river whose color is so magnificent it changes with the seasons. Tales of a river which seems to take flight and disappear into the eastern mountains. And although Jun has yet to see the latter tale, Wonwoo is right; Jun loves the abyss that is the Zalazar River. 

"It's beautiful," is the only thing Jun can think to say at the sight of the deep purple river. 

"Yes," Wonwoo hums, "it's wonderful isn't it. I myself am partial to the yellows and dark reds of late fall. But you'll come to see how blissful the King's City looks even during this season." 

"Ah, the Golden Palace," Jun mutters, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, "I'm sure spring does the city well." 

"It does." Wonwoo says simply looking out towards the river as the horses step onto the Bronze Bridge. Wonwoo must sense Jun's discomfort because the next part he says with hesitation. "Lord Jun, I think this trip will be good for you. It's time you come to see the King's City and the Golden Palace as more than just the place your father died. It's time you stop resenting it."  

And with that, the rest of the Zalazar River is crossed in silence. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You approach the doors to the throne room alone and with heavy footsteps. You stop in front of the door, a feeing resembling fear crawling up your spine and wrapping around your neck. You shake the feeling away and remind yourself that you are the Gift of Fortitude with abilities and powers unmatched by even the best among the Knights of the Holy Order. The King and his council were only one of many regimes you have seen, that you have lived through. Without you, the King was nothing. You have nothing to fret. Yet still, something about the air in the corridor and the dagger in your boot makes you nervous. Something about the life of a Lord who was only following orders from the King makes you shiver. 

Regardless, you nod at the guard of the throne room, and he opens the door, announcing your presence to the room anyways. As you enter the room, you think the King has outdone himself this time. Archers line the perimeter of the room, tucked away in the balconies and presumably safe from you. The throne room usually hosts a party of six guards, but today, you count twenty swordsmen lined along the carpet, and skilled ones at that. You swallow a laugh at the dagger clinking against your ankles. Perhaps you should’ve slipped a knife under your skirt as well. But either way, you’re confident in your skills. If this broke out into a fight, you against the guards and archers, you would prevail. But to spare the boys and girls who stand around you, shaking in their armor, you would do everything in your power to avoid that.

“Gift,” the King calls to you from across the throne room, “do you know why you’re here?” The King has a smile as he asks it, knowing that for the first time in his rule, he has the upper hand over you. Hell, this is the first time since the rule of King Jeonghan that any King has had power over you.

You nod, observing the assembly the King has gathered for your presence, apart from the soldiers. On the first platform at the end of the throne room, six seats are laid out for the six men and women of the King’s council. Two of the council seats remain empty while the other four house council members sitting still fear. Fear directed towards you. You assume that if they weren’t so scared of you and your ability, they would slouch in their seats with indifference. You’ve never taken a liking to the King’s council anyways. On the next raised platform behind the council seats, are the thrones of the King and his Princes. Prince Soonyoung’s throne, to the left of the King’s, is empty. The sight makes you worry. As the inner court likes to say, the eldest son had ‘left’ the Golden Palace and the King’s City at the end of winter. You have yet to hear any word from Soonyoung and can only pray to the Gods that his plans are going well. Prince Seokmin, the second prince, sits on the right of his father. The prince had only just returned from his campaign in the east that previous night, but despite the tire evident in Seokmin’s face, he smiles sympathetically at you. Next to Seokmin is Prince Seungkwan who avoids your eyes so easily, in a way only the youngest prince is capable of. His lips are all but a tight line on his face, and he grips the arm of his throne hard, his knuckles turning white. And just for the slightest of moments, Seungkwan meets your eyes, but as quickly as they're brought up to you face, he rips his gaze away. Despite that, you still manage to catch the dark shade of hurt and heartbreak that swims within his eyes. And it manages to replace all of your previous nerves with a familiar shade of hurt and a different one of guilt. Guilt for hurting Seungkwan the way you did, the way you had to. You push away the thoughts and memories and refocus on the problem at hand.

The King, differently from the others in the room, sits up straight and attentive. His smile taunts you like a dog, holding your freedom above your nose as you jump through hoops for him. You hate the man that sits before you. His throne is flashier, his rings are bigger, and his profits are lower. He is reckless and foolish. He doesn't understand the teetering balance of his own kingdom, of his entire world. He seeks out matters he doesn't understand and toys with those that should not be disturbed. And above all, the man seated before you should have never inherited the crown.

"Yes Lord King," you say, finally answering his question. "I know why you have asked for me today. Although, you need not ask such useless questions." You pause for a moment, your next words simmering on the tip of your tongue. "I miss your father for that reason, he wasn't so persistently foolish." 

The King scowls, and the council members roll their eyes while both of the present princes hide snickers. 

"You should be more mindful of the treason that leaves your mouth, Gift." The King tells you, his confidence dented but his smile as evil as ever. "The blood of one of my most trusted Lords stains your hands, and if you continue such pathetic, pointless defiance, your blood will stain the floors of this room."

You hum. "Perhaps, but you underestimate me, Lord King, greatly. And if you think you know the extent of my skill, then let me say that for the entirety of your small life, you have never seen me fight with the intention to kill. If the men and women you have assembled for me attack, you will be sitting over their dead bodies."

“And then what? You’ll have taken the lives of even more innocent people.” And at this you falter. At this, you’re forced to give the King credit because he knows where to land his blows. He knows how to keep your freedom so close you can smell it, but still far enough so that you can’t have it. But you gulp down your guilt and continue regardless.

"I have killed more men in my life then you know in yours. I will live just as I do now." And despite the conviction with which you say it, you know the King is not fooled by your empty words. You meet Seokmin's eyes, and he nods. You take it as a vote of confidence. "Either way Lord King, I pay you no debt. I owe you nothing. My own disdain for traveling is the only thing keeping me at your court." 

"Yes, that may be the case," the King chuckles rubbing his ring clad knuckles against his chin, "so then leave, Gift. Leave this court and never return." 

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. This, you did not expect. 

"Father, you can't-" Seungkwan blurts, standing up from his throne staring sadly at you. He shakes his head, attempting to cover his own selfish intent with reason. "Father, we need the Gift of Fortitude. Your hold on this kingdom is weak without her power. If you lose Fortitude, you risk losing the kingdom." 

“Eh,” one of the female council members speaks up, looking less afraid of you now, “let the Gift of Fortitude go. A monster like her has no business in a King’s court.”

The words strike you across the cheek, specifically the word ‘monster’. 

“You!” Seungkwan shouts at the council member, rage contorting his face. “How dare—"

Seokmin cuts Seungkwan off, before he can rampage further. "Father, Seungkwan is right. I've met with the Lords in the far east. The failure of the west harvest this season has made them restless. If it weren't for Fortitude, a rebellion from the east would be an even more pressing issue than it already is." Seokmin's eyes are in a panic, the previous tire eradicated from his face. "Think rationally father."

"I am thinking rationally!" The King booms, sending your gut straight to your throat and the princes back to their thrones. The council members sit motionless once again. Perhaps out of fear of the King this time as well. "But if the Gift of Fortitude does not wish to be banished from this court, then so be it." You exhale. "However, I will not have you and your treason-filled mouth infiltrating my court." The King spares a seething glare at Soonyoung's empty throne. "You will still be a member of this court, but you will not stay at the Golden Palace until I permit your return. Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo from the southern lands are on their way to the Golden Palace as we speak. They are to arrive later today."  The name Jun sounds familiar, but you can't quite recall where you’ve heard it before. "You will live out your sentence there, at his estate." And then it hits you. You had heard of Lord Jun’s name before. Jun’s father was a regular visitor to the Golden Palace before he fell sick and died in the palace infirmaries several years ago. 

 “But—” Seungkwan begins before his father cuts him off.

"And if you refuse, then I will personally see to the completion of the act you murdered Lord Mark to prevent."

You know now, with the King’s final threat, that you must hold out on your freedom. Even if the King’s threat is a bluff, the risk of it alone takes priority. With one last deep exhale, you conform.

You spare the princes’ thrones one last glance before reaching into your boot and dropping the dagger you had tucked inside. The dagger hits the stone floor with an obnoxious clatter. The sound of your acceptance echoes throughout the walls hauntingly. You exit the throne room and head straight to your personal quarters without another word.

***

You weep for hours and hours. You weep for this kingdom. You weep for Seungkwan, for Hansol, for Seokmin, for Soonyoung. You weep for the King and his foolishness. You weep for the power of the Gifts that had been bestowed upon you all those years ago, and for the sheer fact that you are a Gift despite never asking for it. But most of all, you weep for the freedom you can’t have as long as the current king lives.

You weep until you’re sure you can’t have any tears left to shed. You weep until you feel dead.

That night, you have dinner in your dining room with Prince Seokmin. He tells you about his recent campaigns, his successes and losses. He spends a little too long telling you about the daughter of one of the better eastern lords. He smiles as he mentions her, playing absentmindedly with his food. 

"I was starting to wonder why you were taking so many trips to the east." You say with a playful smile that feels foreign on your lips. "Do you intend to marry her Seokmin?" 

A blush creeps onto his cheeks as his eyes meet yours in shock. "No, no," he shakes his head vigorously, "it isn't like that." But then as he pokes a carrot with his fork, Seokmin's lips turn down in a frown. "I can't imagine someone who distrusts the monarchy so much even considering a prince anyways."

You hum, recognizing the lingering in his movements and the longing in his voice as something particular to youth, something hidden in your own memories, and something you beg to forget. You swallow your thoughts down and focus on comforting the boy in front of you.

"I'm sure that's not something a few more trips to the east can't change, Seokmin. Afterall, you are known for your persuasive nature." He snorts. "It also helps that no one distrusts the monarchy more than the members of it. Perhaps if the lady were to know of your true intentions, then you wouldn't think it so bizarre to ask for her hand. I'm afraid you underestimate how many women would love to be a princess, even to a palace like this." 

He smiles again, “Thank you."  He pushes the carrot into his mouth.

Dinner continues in a comfortable silence, the only ambiance being the crackling of torches along the wall and the fire in the hearth. Seokmin pauses for a second swallowing his food carefully. Then he looks over at you tentatively before opening his mouth to speak. You cut him off before he gets the chance.

"Seokmin please, I don't need your pity." 

He chuckles and murmurs something you don't exactly catch. "I was just going to say that I've been to Lord Jun's holding. You'll come to see just how beautiful and picturesque the south is, and I think you'll take a liking to Captain Wonwoo." You vaguely knew of Captain Wonwoo. He was a Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order, second only to the Commander, but retired at a young age. Lord Jun on the other hand was a complete mystery to you. You knew nothing of him only that he was from the south and that he was his father’s son. 

"Have you ever seen the sea?" Seokmin asks. You shake your head. "Well if you're standing by the shore, the water of the sea continues on into the horizon for what seems like forever. The water stretches so far out and in all directions. From the shore, it appears like if you travelled far out enough, you'd fall off the edge of the world-"

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

"Yes, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. The sea," he trails off, a dazed off look in his eyes, "is something else entirely." 

You can’t help but smile at the bliss Seokmin radiates at the mere thought of the sea. “I guess I’ll be seeing for myself soon enough.” You think the world could use a few more like Seokmin. Even in the darkest of moments, he remains a ray of light. “You remind me so much of your grandfather, Seokmin.”

His eyebrows rise, and then a saddened look crosses his eyes. "He's always talked to highly of, even by the eastern Lords. But what was he like?" 

You hesitate, thinking back to the times before you had returned to the Golden Palace. "Perhaps not as clever as your father. But kind and empathetic. He possessed a certain understanding of this kingdom although at times, he could be impulsive. At the end of the day, your grandfather was a good king, and you've managed to inherit all his best traits." 

"Were you close to him?" 

"No, not while he was king. At that time, I wasn't closely involved with the King's court. I only returned because of your mother." There's another silence. Fortitude spends it immersed in her memories.

Finally, Seokmin speaks. “Do me a favor and enjoy the sea.”

He stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead in goodbye. Then he leaves the dining rooms, sending in a servant to clean up your dinner. 

***

There’s a knock on your bedroom doors later that night. You’re sitting in front of the fire with your knees pulled up against your chest when it happens.

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

"It's me." You recognize his voice immediately. And if it weren't for the hours you spent weeping this morning, you probably would've cried at the sound of his voice alone. You didn’t expect Seungkwan to come and bid you farewell, but somehow the fact that he does makes it all the more real. 

You push yourself off the rug and move towards the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, but after another thought, you drop your hand, deciding to make due with conversation through the door.

“Yes, Seungkwan,” you call through the door, “what is it?”

You listen as he stumbles over his words for a second before falling silent. When his voice resurfaces, it’s small and scattered. “Do you hate me so much as to not open the door?”

You sigh. In a loud and exaggerated way so that you know he hears it. Seungkwan means well. Deep down, you know so much. But his words are a paint brush coloring a lousy shade of blame all over you; as if any of the issues that have come between you two is your fault. You suppose if you tried confronting him again, he would try to tell you that it is. “Prince Seungkwan, have at least enough dignity to recognize that I’m doing this for you.”

He exhales harshly in acceptance. You settle for it. There’s more silence, and after a few minutes, you begin to think that he’s left. But when he speaks up again, he proves you wrong. “Seokmin was saying how he reminds you of our grandfather.”

You inhale sharply. Conversing with Seungkwan had come to this point. To the point where you both had to speak lightly and with low voices as to not anger each  other. To the point where you both had to tiptoe around topics as to not bring up something the other did not wish to speak of. To the point where you couldn't even talk about what mattered. 

“Indeed, he does.” 

“Then…” Seungkwan hesitates. You hear a small tap on the door, “do I remind you of anyone?”

You smile. His question reminded you of a time before his confession, of a time when conversation with Seungkwan was simple and delightful, of a time when Seungkwan was a child. You let the question sit in the air for a second despite knowing exactly who Seungkwan reminds you of. You think of it every time he smiles or laughs or does anything at all, for all his mannerisms and all his traits remind you exactly of her. He reminds you of her in an obvious almost flashy way, in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. In a way that’s not as subtle as Seokmin. In a way, that makes Seungkwan so dear to you. “You remind me of your mother, Seungkwan.” Your voice softens. “You are so very much like your mother.” 

He hums, satisfied with your response despite already knowing it. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.” 

“I wish I knew her.”

There is no pain in his voice as he says it, and yet you feel so much pain when he does. “She would’ve loved you.” Then you pause before saying the next part with a laugh dancing under your voice.  “In fact—well don’t tell the other two—but she probably would’ve loved you the most.” 

Seungkwan laughs. You relish in the sound. Then after a moment, he asks: “How about Soonyoung then? Who does he remind you of?”

You falter, not quite able to put your finger on who Soonyoung reminds you of. If not someone, then there is something the eldest prince reminds you of. Something like a memory, but there’s a fog in your mind that halts you from knowing any more. And right now, with Soonyoung long gone, the memory seems so faint; you aren’t even sure it’s real.

“I’m not sure,” is all you can say. Seungkwan hums as if he wasn’t really waiting for your answer anyways. You are quick to push down the annoyance that bubbles from it.

“Do you wish to leave?” He asks, in a voice that makes you believe he was scared to do so.

“Of course not.” You deny, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary. You try not to think too much about your upcoming departure from the Golden Palace. You fail.

Seungkwan waits a long moment. But when he speaks again, the words come falling out of his mouth. “We could get married. And then you won’t have to leave. It’ll fix everything, and father won’t be able to send you away.” 

“Seungkwan,” you hiss, but you want to rage. And in this moment, you hate how much he reminds you of his mother. Because just like her, his love makes him stupid. His love clouds his judgement. And in this moment, you want to yell at him and scream because you do not need someone you care for as much as you do Seungkwan telling you the same foolish things the people you think so lowly of do. You do not need Seungkwan persisting that a marriage will fix everything. You do not need Seungkwan, even less do you need his romantic interest in you. But you want Seungkwan, as a friend. And you have no wish to leave the Golden Palace in yet another argument with him. So, for that reason, and that one alone, you swallow your rage, and it burns all the way down your throat.

“Leave Seungkwan.”

“Not until-”

“Just go,” you seethe, the anger seeping from between your teeth. You don't wait for a response, storming to the other side of the room, near the fire. You stand by it for a second, the heat only adding to the flame burning inside you. And when you’ve had enough, your anger bursting from its seams, you kick the neat stack of firewood beside you. All seven logs go flying, one of them dents the wall. You focus on your breathing.

There’s another knock at the door. “Seungkwan, I said go!” You yell whipping the door open to come face to face with a wide-eyed Hansol. “Oh, Hansol,” you say in shock. 

“Bad time?” He asks with raised shoulders and the faintest hint of a smile. 

You huff, ignoring the urge to hit him over the head. “Just come in.”

“Seokmin told me about your sentence.” He begins, sitting down in an armchair while you go back to kneeling by the fire. 

“Seokmin sure is talking plenty tonight.” You mutter into the orange glow.

“Seokmin always talks plenty,” Hansol hums, amused but calm.

Hansol, in himself, is an epitome to his upbringing. He was only a young boy and a palace servant when you took him in and taught him how to fight. To your surprise, Hansol turned out to be an excellent fighter. Before you had relieved the orphan boy of his petty debts to the King, Hansol was constantly riled up. Always looking for a fight but losing once he did. He was angry at the world, and for good reason, but looking at him now, Hansol contains none of the anger that consumed him as a boy. You suppose you can thank him joining the Knights of the Holy Order for that. You knew firsthand how fighting in the way that the Knights do, even when there is no war, changes a person. Afterall, fighting in the Holy Wars despite your age and disinterest in conflict, had changed you in such a way that when you visited your father afterwards, he didn’t even recognize you. But you think Hansol, unlike what your father thought of you, has changed for the better. He had come back on his breaks more mature and grown. He had become a friend to you despite the manner in which your relationship had begun. Hansol was the first true friend you had since the princes' late mother. 

And after a while of you glaring at the fire and Hansol crossing and uncrossing his legs, he finally speaks up again. "Don't blame yourself for Seungkwan's inability to control himself and his emotions." 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you to be speaking ill of your friend and more importantly the prince." You bite back, stubbornly refusing his comfort. 

He scoffs. "Don't be so dense. You're my friend too." 

There's a silence and you reach your hand out to hover over the fire. "Did you know?"

"About Seungkwan and you?" 

You nod although there is no 'Seungkwan and you'. There is only Seungkwan's foolishness and your reason. 

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his palm. "Yes," he says with such simplicity it irks you. "In my defense, I thought you knew." 

"You'd think after all these years of living, I would be more in tune with these things, but no," you say rather lamely, "I'm still just as clueless as I was." 

"It appears even time can't change that." Hansol jokes. You laugh for the first time that day, and it feels like you can finally breathe again. 

"Have you heard any word from Soonyoung?" The question seems to bring you both back to reality. And the question, or perhaps reality, drags Hansol's lips down and draws his gaze towards the flames. 

He scratches a spot behind his head. "Not a word.”

“I’ve been sending him Risals.” 

“And…?” Hansol asks, hopeful.

“They come back empty. He doesn’t send me anything back.” 

Hansol sighs, and you can’t decide if it sounds more tired or sad. “But if he's following his plan then he should be at the Nomads' Land by now." 

"That's only if he was able to find the Nomads' Land.”  You rub your temple thinking and overthinking all the aspects of Soonyoung's plan. On a hunch and a forgotten memory, you had advised Soonyoung to head north to the Giant Forest. Specifically, you had advised Soonyoung to find the Nomads’ Land within the Giant Forest. The Nomads have always been very private people but even more so after the rule of King Jeonghan, who ruled over the kingdom during the Holy Wars. No one has even seen a Nomad since let alone their Lands. There are no maps, no stories, nothing. On top of that, the Nomads’ have never been known for their kindness to strangers. "I feel as if I've let him go on an impossible quest."

Hansol shakes his head, a crease running through his forehead. “Soonyoung decided to go himself. He sketched up the plans himself. If he thought he could do it, there must be something he knows that we don’t.”

You nod even though Hansol sounds as if he’s convincing himself of it as much as he’s convincing you. But you know, there is some truth to Hansol's words. Soonyoung is more than competent to do what he set out to do. As he grew, the eldest prince always found new ways to surprise you with his skill. After the Holy Wars and the deaths of all the Sins and Gifts apart from yourself, your fighting skill went unmatched. That was until Soonyoung. Soonyoung trained under you by the request of his mother and to the disdain of his father, and as Soonyoung grew, so did his skill. By the time Soonyoung had aged into a man, he became a better opponent than you had seen in ages. His brute strength making up for what he lacked in skill. But there’s something else about Soonyoung as well, perhaps the same quality that puts a fog in your mind and reminds you of a memory you can’t remember. That part of him makes you wonder if there is something else that eases your worries. Whatever quality of Soonyoung that perplexes you, is the same one that proves Soonyoung is capable of completing his task to overthrow the King, to overthrow his father. You can only hope your advice to ask the Nomads gets him far enough to do it.

"You're right," you admit, "Soonyoung is capable. I'm just worried. It all..." you hesitate struggling to find the right words, "It all makes my head ache." 

Hansol sits back in the armchair, his brows furrowed and appearing to be deep in thought. He opens his mouth suddenly as if to speak, yet nothing comes out. He seems to be overcome with the same loss of words as you.

 “I hate to ask this—”

 “Then don’t.” 

 “—but why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads’ Land?”

You still. The same fog from before overcoming your mind once again. “I can’t even begin to explain, Hansol, I—”

“Try,” you meet his eyes, they look darker in this light or perhaps it’s his own confusion and hopeless need to understand that makes his eyes turn to the color of bark after a thunderstorm, “please.”

You do.

“I’ve told you before, Hansol. I  struggle to remember life before the Holy Wars.” You pause, taking a moment to collect and retrieve your thoughts from the thick fog consuming your mind. You come back empty handed.

“It’s almost as if life never existed before the Holy Wars.” You say slowly. “I’ve forgotten the way life was before that. The way life was before I was the Gift of Fortitude. But sometimes, just barely, I get a sense of a memory. As if whatever made me forget is wearing off. As if it’s weakening.” You take another break, dropping your head in your hands. You can feel a headache coming. “These memories, they come and go, lasting only for the moment they appear. But when I was speaking with Soonyoung that night, something about him or something about our conversation brought this memory to me. And I…” You trail off, struggling to remember the conversation you had with Soonyoung before he took off.

Hansol stands up from the armchair and joins you on the floor. His movements are frantic, but the message they send is clear: they scream desperation. “I know it’s difficult to remember, but please try as best you can. We were so close last time.”

This makes you stop. You release your head from your hands and look back at Hansol quizzingly. “Last time?” You repeat in disbelief.

He grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Focus. You talk of a memory. A memory to do with the Nomads and your life before the Holy Wars. What did you remember that day with Soonyoung? Why did you send him to the Nomads’ Lands?”

You don’t even hear him, your head suddenly splitting with pain. “When did we speak about this before?” You ask, helplessly wondering how you possibly could have forgotten an entire conversation.

“The memory,” Hansol emphasizes once more, “what was the memory?”

“Hansol, please,” you beg, feeling a tear you hadn’t even noticed roll down your chin, “let it go. I don’t remember.”

His entire body seems to sigh in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before letting go of your face. Your mind turns white with fog the moment he lets go. You  immediately drop your head into your hands again. The pain in your head so intense you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Eventually, you taste blood.

“I’m sorry.” Hansol mumbles into your hair. You hadn’t even realized he was embracing you. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much to remember.”

You try to tell him it’s like a curse but the words get swallowed by another surge of pain.

He helps you into your bed, and it makes you feel as old as you are. He whispers another apology before leaving your room. 

And like a spell, the fog in your mind devours your entire body in a deep sleep.

—LORD JUN—

"In the name of the Gods, we offer this prayer. Bestow upon us the knowledge of the Elders to live in harmony with our neighbors. By bathing in your everlasting light and glory, may we go in peace.” Jun prays although his mind is far from the memorized passages that leaves from his lips. The palace temple is modern and beautiful, but different compared to the traditional southern temples he’s used to. But even that, Jun can’t focus on. No, instead, Jun troubles himself with the events of this morning. He awoke exhausted and aching after a long day of riding. But despite his tire, he was to meet the Gift of Fortitude this morning with breakfast in your personal dining room. It was awkward to say the least, with Jun and Wonwoo unsure and timid and you holding your head in your hands, complaining of a headache to a servant in hushed tones. Yet, Jun sits in the palace temple thinking and overthinking how you, the Gift of Fortitude, looked so undeniably human. 

Jun sneaks a glance. You’re seated next to him, but you look as if you’re somewhere else altogether. Your eyes are sewn shut and your lips are held tightly in a line. He wouldn’t have thought you to be so religious. Hell, Jun wouldn’t have thought anyone north of the Zalazar River to be religious, but with the way you sit, concentrated on the prayers, religious is the only thing Jun can think to describe you. 

The King had sent a message to Jun’s southern estate at the beginning of the week asking for Jun’s and Captain Wonwoo’s presence at the Golden Palace immediately. The King didn’t bother including any details. Jun and Wonwoo were left to speculate what business he could possibly have with them. With Jun, a southern Lord who never involved himself with the politics of the kingdom, and with Wonwoo, a retired Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. It certainly doesn’t help that Lord Jun is known to harbor a dislike towards the King. 

But now, as Jun and Wonwoo walk the ornate halls of the undeniably breathtaking Golden Palace alongside the Gift of Fortitude, Jun wonders even more why the King has asked for them.

“Lord King I present to you Lady Gift of Fortitude, Lord Jun, and Captain Wonwoo." The guard announces to the King's throne room as the three of you enter. The throne room, Jun notices, is just as lavish as the rest of the palace if not more. Five of the six counsel seats are filled. Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan sit attentively at their thrones, but Prince Soonyoung's throne is empty. Jun finds the sight odd, especially since the heir to the throne is known to be closely involved with the King's affairs and even more because Prince Soonyoung is a close friend of you, as are all the Princes. 

Despite that, the King wastes no time. He says that you wish to visit the southern lands, and offers Jun's estate as a place for you to stay. Jun assumes there is more to the request than the King lets on but accepts nonetheless, and the three of you are ushered out of the throne room almost as soon as you’re brought in. 

Jun, Wonwoo, and you walk the halls aimlessly after the dreaded presence with the King which admittedly was briefer and more passive than Jun had imagined. 

“I apologize for the circumstances, Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo. I’m afraid I had little choice in the matter. I just wished the King hadn’t handled matters so hurriedly.” You tell them. 

“It’s quite alright, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo affirms, glancing at Jun as if expecting him to say something, but Jun stays silent. “I find it a shame although,” Wonwoo says to cover Jun’s silence, “that there were so many missing in the King’s close court this morning.” 

“Yes.” You respond simply. 

“If I may, where is Prince Soonyoung? I’ve heard you’re close to all three Princes.”

“You heard correctly, Captain Wonwoo.” Then you pause. Jun closely observes the way you carefully choose your next words. “Prince Soonyoung had some personal matters to take care of. He’s taken a sabbatical of sorts.” 

"Odd that there was no royal notice of his sabbatical," Wonwoo says in an even but skeptical tone. 

"Yes, Prince Soonyoung is nearly as impulsive as his father," you cringe slightly when you say it, as if the words hurt.

And it's evident in the way you deflect the question, that there's something more to Prince Soonyoung's absence. Something the King's court has chosen to cover up and ignore. Jun knew just how impulsive the King could be, and for that reason, Jun suspects that Prince Soonyoung has snuck out of the palace, but then with another look at your scornful face, Jun suspects something different. Prince Soonyoung must have been sent away by his father himself. The realization takes a moment to sink in. 

Wonwoo clears his throat. “And then what about Lord Mark, the sixth member of the King’s court?”

You stop walking altogether, looking down at your feet with furrowed brows. You look as if you’ve forgotten something. Jun and Wonwoo stop walking as well.

“You haven’t heard?” You question so quietly that Jun barely hears it.

Wonwoo tilts his head, “Heard what?”

You bite your lip, and look off to the side. You open your mouth once, but then close it again after. Jun thinks, as mad as it sounds, that you, a Gift of the Spirit, look a little nervous.

Jun takes a step forward. “What is it Lady Gift?” He asks, breaking his silence.

You shake your head once and then look up at Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo with steady eyes. “Lord Mark was murdered.” You state with an eerie simplicity. You hesitate before adding the next part. “And I was the one who killed him.”

Jun was wrong. It was not nerves that made you hesitate. It was guilt.  

“Well then, I just need to take care of a few more things before we leave. I’ll meet you both at the stables.”

And you’re off before Jun and Wonwoo can even comprehend what you just said.

 ***

Jun waits for you and Wonwoo in the stables. He tends to his horse deep in thought. 

Jun hadn't been sure of the nature of your prospective visit to his estate. But now with your murder confession, it's clear you are being sent away as a punishment. You’re more akin to the stories and rumors than Jun had wanted to believe. A monster lurking on the palace grounds as one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit under the pretense that you mysteriously switched sides and fought with the Seven Sins during the Holy Wars. A monster lurking within a human body with an uncontrollable power that should be stopped, contained. 

Jun doesn’t agree with all of it, but he’s not above some of the notions either. Before the Holy Wars, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were praised as highly as the Seven Sins. The two groups worked in harmony as protectors of humanity. However, for reasons unknown to the people, the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit began fighting which escalated into the Holy Wars. The kingdom took the side of the Sins making the Gifts an enemy to the nation. After the war, the Gifts were not praised as highly as they once were. In fact, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were not praised at all. All seven Sins and six of the Gifts perished in the Holy Wars. You, the only one who had survived, shouldered the blame of the Holy Wars. You, the Gift of Fortitude, became a pariah.

Although Jun hates himself for doing so, he can’t help but think that perhaps you do have too much power. Power that is unmatched without another living Sin or Gift. Power that goes unchecked. If the Gift of Fortitude set out to kill, Jun doubts there is much that could stop you. Lord Mark’s murder had gone unannounced and relatively unpunished. Jun wonders if Lord Mark was an isolated example or just another among the many whose lives were put in your hands. 

But then when Jun thinks back to the figure praying diligently beside him in the temple just hours ago and the person who complained of something as mundane as a headache this morning, it doesn’t appear to make much sense. If Jun had not known you to be the Gift of Fortitude, he would’ve never fathomed that you’d even hurt a fly.  

“That’s a very beautiful horse you have there, Lord Jun,” you say suddenly, bringing to Jun’s attention your presence in the stables. 

 Jun nods with a polite yet strained smile. “Yes, he was gifted to me by my father.” 

“Ah,” you mutter. And for a second, Jun thinks he sees your face turn to a frown. But before he can look any further, you continue. “Mines is a river horse.” You brush through the mane of the horse in the stall next to Jun’s. “I found him a while back by the Zalazar River.” 

Jun doesn’t say anything in response. He begins attaching his saddles and bags to his horse instead. He watches the affection with which you care for your horse. He wonders how you’re able to act so calmly after admitting to murder not too long ago. Jun thinks your dismissal and nonchalance negates any trust he might’ve held for you.  

He clears his throat. He makes sure it’s loud and obtrusive. He makes sure the I don’t trust you is clear. 

“Lord Jun,” you begin, not even bothering to take your eyes off your horse, “I understand you may be upsetted by and skeptical of my actions, but I kindly ask that you respect them nonetheless. I hope you come to see that I had my reasons. Good reasons. Ones that I am unable to share with you.” You pause for a second as a servant brings in a bird Jun doesn’t recognize and sets it by your feet. You continue as soon as the servant disappears behind the stable doors. “I am no stranger to fear and hate directed towards me. But seeing as I am to be staying at your estate for the foreseeable future, I ask that you wait and get to know me before you make any rash assumptions concerning me.” You take a step past Jun so that you stand beside him facing the opposite stable door. You turn your head, and Jun shivers at the way your breath hits his neck. You speak directly into his ear, voice no louder than a whisper. “It’s best you realize sooner rather than later that we have the same enemy here.” 

Jun understands what you are implicating, the notion alone bringing a sudden heat to his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to meet your eyes. But you stare at Jun until he makes some acknowledgment of your speech. You’re gone the moment he does, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in the space you used to occupy. 

Jun is left stunned. He can’t even acknowledge the palace servant that re enters the stable to finish preparing your horse. He’s only brought out of mind when a familiar heavy hand rests upon his shoulder. 

“We’re ready when you are Jun,” Wonwoo says, a laugh dancing under his words. 

Jun groans. “How much of that did you hear?” 

Wonwoo releases Jun’s shoulder. “Enough,” he hums with an enthusiastic nod. 

“So you think it’s excusable then?” Jun questions, hurt that Wonwoo seems to be taking your side over his. “Are you willing to excuse murder too?” 

Wonwoo’s quiet for a moment, but when he does speak again, he does so seriously. Jun listens intently. “It’s not that I’m excusing murder Jun. It’s that I’m willing to believe there is more to this story than we are hearing. I’m willing to trust the Gift of Fortitude over the King.” 

Jun shakes his head. “I just can’t understand how everyone is looking past the life that has been lost. How can you accept a crime as grave as murder?”

Wonwoo chuckles darkly. “I spent the better part of my life making murderers out of men and women. I made a murderer out of myself as Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. I stay sane because I believe that I led knights to their deaths for good reason. If I did not accept the murders I’ve committed, I would have gone mad a long time ago. Sometimes Jun, a crime is only as grave as its motivation.”

Jun is silent, taking his time to understand what Wonwoo means. He returns his attention to his horse. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Jun asks, deciding he needs more time to process than the moment allows. Wonwoo isn’t bothered by the shift in conversation. 

“Ah, I had many things to discuss with Prince Seungkwan. You know, former Captain of the Knights to current Commander.”

“Anything worth sharing?” 

Wonwoo hums. “Not much, although he is an excellent Commander, Prince Seungkwan,” Wonwoo clarifies, “even despite his young age. What they say is true, he possesses a gift for...”

Jun nods, listening half-heartedly to Wonwoo for Jun has no interest in the subjects of armies and battles. 

Eventually, Wonwoo wears himself out with talk of the current state of the Knights, the supply chain routes, their management of northern bandits and uneasy eastern Lords, and whatever else Wonwoo can think to comment on. And by the time he does, the horses are prepped and ready to go. The small, mismatched party of Lord Jun, Captain Wonwoo, and the Gift of Fortitude begin the two day journey south. 

The journey is quiet and tense. The only conversation coming from Wonwoo and you making small talk about the weather and the shameful fail of the western harvest. They take rest at the Bronze Bridge. 

The Zalazar River is now a green color. Wonwoo comments on how it’s a little early for the river to take such a dark color. He also mentions that this color is one of his favorites. 

“My favorite,” you begin, leaning over the edge to stare at the water, “is the blue that appears during the transition from winter to spring.”

They all, including the guards, stare at you, dumbfounded. You notice a second too late and turn your head towards them slowly. 

“What?” You breathe, and Jun laughs when he realizes you’re being serious. He laughs at the notion that your favorite color of an ever-changing river is the color of all bodies of water.   

“In that case, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo chuckles, “I think you’ll take a great liking to the sea.” 

They mount their horses and cross the rest of the Bronze Bridge and forest green river a little less tensely. 

***

They take rest at an inn for the night. Jun finds how empty the inn is odd considering it is at the center of this town off the main road. Even if most of the rooms were unoccupied, the dining rooms of inns were always full at nights with the town’s people engrossed in conversation over a pint of beer. But tonight, with the guards resting upstairs, the inn’s dining room is mostly empty. Three tables are occupied and one of those three are occupied by Jun, Wonwoo, and you. Jun remembers what you said about fear and hate being directed towards you. He starts to wonder how often you empty a room with fear, intentional or not.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel bad. It’s been so long since you’ve left the King’s City, that you’ve forgotten how the people outside the Golden Palace react to you. You have forgotten that most people don’t want to eat dinner and play drinking games with a Gift of the Spirit near. You make a mental note to cover up more next time you’re out. Then after a quick glance at the innkeeper behind the bar, you make another note to reimburse her for the money she must’ve lost thanks to you.  

You’re aware of the way Jun squints at you, untrusting. The southern Lord hadn’t appeared to be so headstrong and stubborn when you met him this morning. But as Lord Jun stares daggers at you, you guess that your first impression of him was wrong. Still, you’re tired of petty conflict. You want to help Jun understand your motives without involving him in the palace’s politics. You want to make peace. 

You exhale sharply. 

“Lord Jun,” his eyes widen when you address him, “Captain Wonwoo, I know you must have many reasons to distrust me.” Jun scoffs. You ignore it. “But I’d like to make peace with you both. I’m afraid I might not be able to answer all of your questions but perhaps there’s some that I can.” 

You feel uneasy. You aren’t one to make an effort to get someone to like you or trust you. And yet, you find yourself in front of Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo nearly begging for their acceptance. 

“I have a question,” Wonwoo begins, sitting up slightly. You nod. “What kind of bird do you travel with? I’ve never seen a bird like that before.” 

“Oh, the bird. It’s my personal Risal.” You say simply. You aren’t surprised to see the shock on their faces. Risals were extremely rare and even more expensive. They’re said to have been blessed by the Gods as messenger birds. That of course is the only explanation for how Risals are able to send any message anywhere and to anyone in no more than a day even if the one sending the message does not know where to find the one receiving. 

“My Gods, how in the world did you get your hands on a Risal?” Wonwoo exclaims, like a little kid waiting for sweets. 

You smile. “It was a gift from the princes’ late mother.” The reminder makes your smile turn sad. Lord Jun notices. 

“Are they as untraceable as they say?” 

You nod. “Tracking a Risal is impossible. It’s almost as if they disappear into thin air when they take flight.” 

“You’re very lucky.” Wonwoo tells you with a laugh, and you let yourself believe that you’ve made some progress. Lord Jun, however, doesn’t let you believe so for long. 

“I have a question.” Lord Jun implores, bringing himself out of his silence. His voice is stern and a little cold. Wonwoo looks uneasy. You beckon for him to continue anyways. “What exactly do you possess as a Gift of the Spirit?” His voice is filled with distrust, but when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find that they aren’t as cold as his voice. 

“Jun—“ Wonwoo starts. 

“How do you mean?” You encourage him to continue. You know what he wants to hear. He wants to hear how you’re a killer by nature. He wants you to explain just how deadly you are. He wants you to prove his distrust. 

“What are your powers, Gift?” 

You flinch at the name. You flinch at the question. Both of which you hate. And yet, you’re no stranger to either. But you’ve already decided to make peace, and so peace you’ll make. 

“As you know, in ancient times Maratelli the archangel gave 14 roles to humans. The Seven Sins: Greed, Anger, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. And the Seven Gifts of the Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fear, and,” you pause to look at Lord Jun directly, “Fortitude. The Sins and Gifts were given to the people as protectors. As humanity’s fighters. To answer your question Lord Jun, I am an exceptionally skilled fighter. I was made and crafted by the Gods to fight for humans and protect them in ways they cannot. But the power is not almighty, the Seven Sins and Gifts are slow healers. Even small injuries can leave us bedridden for weeks.” 

Lord Jun wastes no time, jumping into the next question. “Are you immortal?” 

“No.” 

“So you can die?” 

“Yes.” 

“By old age?” 

“No.” 

“Then how?” 

You wait a beat. “By giving up.” You don't explain any further. 

You had hoped to make peace with Lord Jun tonight. Perhaps you had hoped for too much. 

--LORD JUN-- There’s a familiar tense silence while riding the next day. They reach Jun’s estate by late afternoon, earlier than expected. 

You request to be taken straight to your quarters. 

“You’re acting strange.” Wonwoo mutters, watching Jun with a careful eye as he takes a spoonful of his soup. It’s only Jun and Wonwoo at dinner tonight. You decided you were too tired to attend. 

“How so?” Jun questions, swirling his spoon around the bowl. 

“The cook made your favorite soup, and you’ve had only two spoons of it so far.”

“I ate a snack earlier.” 

“It’s not just that Jun.” Wonwoo adds, and Jun holds back a groan, dreading the coming conversation. “What’s gotten into you?” Jun shrugs. And he can’t help but notice how sad Wonwoo sounds when he says: “You aren’t yourself around her.” 

Jun drops his spoon, placing his hands on his knees. “I just don’t trust her Wonwoo. Something about her unsettles me.” 

Wonwoo takes another sip of his soup. “You’re entitled to your judgement, but that does not mean you’re entitled to treat her so rudely. I just want the two of you to make peace. And believe it or not, she wants to make peace too.” 

Jun huffs; he doesn’t feel like giving in easily tonight. “If the Gift wants to make peace, then let her make it.” 

“She’s already tried. And if you must call her something, she prefers Fortitude.” 

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Wonwoo.” 

“And what would you do if a title was the only name you had?” 

Jun bites the inside of his cheek, mumbling, “but what if it’s not the only name she has?”

Wonwoo shakes his head in frustration. “Jun, I can only advise you to make peace. It’s up to you whether you do or not.” 

And with that Wonwoo leaves from the dining room. Jun finishes the rest of his dinner alone. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You were unhappy. You didn’t want to be at Lord Jun’s estate in these strange southern lands. You did not want to be somewhere you were unwelcome. Even before your return to the Golden Palace, you never traveled too far away from the King’s City. The thought of being so far away from the lands you’re used to calling home makes your skin itch. 

There’s a knock on your door. You open it to a young servant girl. “Lady Gift, Lord Jun is asking if you would like to accompany him on a walk to the beach.” 

You wonder for a second if this is some sort of joke. You can’t imagine Jun waking up and deciding he wants to spend time with you willingly. Then you suspect if Wonwoo put him up to it. 

“You can tell him I’m coming and that I’ll meet him by the back gates.” 

You get dressed quickly and walk down the estate to the gates. When you arrive, Lord Jun is already waiting, facing away from the estate and towards the grassy path. 

“Lord Jun.” 

He nods at your greeting, and the walk begins in silence. 

“You seem to already know your way around the estate.” Jun mentions by the time the grass and sand have begun to mix under your feet. 

“Wonwoo gave me a very thorough tour this morning.” 

Jun laughs but it sounds small and strained. “Yes, Wonwoo is not the type to spare any details.” 

You settle back into a silence. You’re surprised with how civil the walk has been so far, and you duly note how this might be the first time Jun hasn’t stared at you hatefully. With another look at the boy, you find that his eyes—when they aren’t filled with anger—are actually quite kind. You also find beauty in the way the sunlight bounces off them. You smile. 

“Lord Jun,” you address softly, “did Wonwoo put you up to this?” 

He chuckles, and instead of answering your question, he says: “Lady Gift, I would like to apologize for how I treated you these past couple days. I am not used to the happenings of the Golden Palace. I was shocked. But that’s no excuse for how I acted. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

For the second time that day, you’re surprised, and not only because Jun is apologizing but also because of how sincerely he sounds saying it. 

“Thank you, Lord Jun.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I could do, Lady Gift. But I hope you accept this as an apology for my behavior as well, and that you find it in you to forgive me.” 

You nod. “I’ll forgive you if you agree to drop the formalities.” 

Jun claps his hands. “Doesn’t seem like you’re getting nearly as much out of this arrangement as I am, but I accept nonetheless.” He stops walking and holds out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?” 

You shake his outstretched hand. “I suppose we do.” 

He smiles, and you’re shocked for the third time that day. Shocked that the man before you is the same one you met at the Golden Palace. The same man whose hatred for you was so strong you could have sensed it across a room. The same man who is taking you on this walk and no longer calling you Gift. Shocked that Jun is the one to make the peace you wanted so badly. 

You find yourself to be smiling too. 

“Come on,” Jun says, continuing the walk, “I think it’s about time you saw the sea.” 

You both continue down the now sandy path. You admire the way Jun so easily walks in the sand. You, on the other hand, struggle to adapt to your feet sinking and shifting in the ground beneath you. 

Jun tells you that walking in the sand will get easier with time. It takes a moment for you to register the fact that he noticed. 

“Wow,” is all you can say at the blue expanse before you. You think Seokmin was right. The paintings do not do justice to the sea. The paintings were unable to capture the real thing. 

“You said that blue is your favorite shade of the Zalazar River right?” 

Your smile widens. “Yes, but this…” you motion to the water, “this is even better.” 

Jun hums triumphantly. “Accept this as a peace offering.” 

“Oh Jun, we have already bargained and made peace.” 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re actually terrible at bargaining.” He laughs. “That deal was far too uneven for me to accept with dignity. So please, accept this instead.” 

“I was not aware you knew how to make a joke.” You tease. 

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious. 

You tilt your head. “I also was not aware the sea was yours to give as peace offerings.” 

“It’s not.” He bites back a smile. “But it is yours to take.” 

You think for a moment. And when the next wave crashes into the shore, you nod.

***

You send a message with the Risal to Seokmin that night. 

Dear Seokmin, I hope things at the palace are doing well. You were right. The sea is so much more than I thought. The sea is something else entirely. Give everyone my love. -Fortitude 

—LORD JUN—

Jun is sitting at his desk. He has piles of papers to sort through, file, fill out, and sign, and yet he can’t seem to focus on the small amount of work he’s obliged to do as a Lord. Instead he’s focused on the view outside the window of his office which overlooks the courtyard. More specifically, he focuses on the way you sit at the edge of the fountain teasing a stray cat with a loose string. Suddenly, you look towards the sky and stick your arm out. A bird swoops down from nowhere and perches itself on your extended forearm. Jun wonders if your abilities as a Gift include an inclination towards animals. The bird drops an envelope in your lap; you read the cover before setting it down beside you. Jun squints at the scene and recognizes the bird as your Risal. This piques his interest. 

“Wonwoo,” Jun calls out. Wonwoo tends to keep Jun company while he works, reading a book in the corner armchair. But when Jun is met with silence, he looks over to find the book closed on his lap and Wonwoo fast asleep. Jun covers Wonwoo with a blanket and exits his office silently. He figures he might as well go for a walk if he isn’t going to get any work done. 

When he finds you in the courtyard, the cat has settled down in your lap, and the Risal sits on the stretch of fountain ledge next to you. You seem to sense Jun behind you before he bothers to make his presence known. 

“Have you already finished your work Jun?” You ask, not turning around to face him. He walks the circumference of the fountain before stopping a little before you and answering. 

“Not exactly.” He sits down on the fountain ledge next to the Risal. 

“Well,” you mumble scratching a place behind the cat’s ear, “I suppose now is as good a time for a break as any.” 

“Yes, I thought so too.” Jun responds, more focused on the bird in front of him. “Can I pet it?”

You nod. You advise him to start at the beak until the bird trusts him. It doesn’t take long for the bird to nuzzle under his palm. 

“It likes you.” you say, sounding a little shocked. “Winning a Risal’s trust usually takes much longer.” 

Jun smiles shyly. The two of you settle into a silence. You scratching the stray cat to sleep and Jun running his hand along the bird in awe. It had become like that between you two. There was never much conversation and yet somehow the silences you shared never felt empty or weird. Jun isn’t sure if he can truly trust you, but he does know he was wrong about you. You’re no monster. In fact, you’re just as human as him and Wonwoo. 

“How do they work?” Jun wonders, looking up from the bird. “The Risals.”

You sit up slightly. “Would you like to see?” 

He nods. You set the cat down on the ground and beckon for Jun to stand up as well. 

You collect the Risal on your arm and start walking away from him. “Move farther away.” You tell him. “It won’t work if we’re too close.” 

Once you are the entire length of the courtyard apart, you nod in approval and say something Jun can’t hear to the bird. The bird suddenly launches itself from your arm and soars into the sky. Jun closely watches how the Risal disappears behind the clouds. 

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout from across the courtyard: “When you hear a bird’s screech, hold out your arm.” 

Jun waits a moment. Eventually the screech comes, and Jun thinks how you forgot to mention how loud it would be. The screech makes him jump and clasp his arms over his ears. You don't even flinch. Jun looks to see if the cat is spooked and finds that the cat is still peacefully asleep on the ground. Out of the corner his eye, he sees you pointing wildly at his arm. Jun quickly sticks it out. He looks up at the sky only to see the Risal already swooping down and landing neatly on his arm. His mouth opens in shock. 

“Now,” you yell, “tell it to go to me.” 

Jun looks the Risal in the eye. He wonders if this is all some elaborate joke. The bird couldn’t possibly understand him if he were to speak to it, right? Then he wonders if he’s mad for believing that it can. He inhales. 

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.” 

And Jun swears the Risal seems to nod before leaping off his arm and flying straight up into the sky once more. He watches the sky keenly, and then also covers his ears with his hands in anticipation of the screech. It never comes. Instead, the bird dives down from the sky, calming landing on your outstretched arm. Jun runs to you immediately.  

“How come there was no screech this time?” Jun asks breathlessly, meeting you at your end of the courtyard. 

“There was.” You say simply, petting the bird. Jun furrows his brows. “The screech is only heard by the one who the Risal is meant for.” It clicks for Jun then why you didn’t flinch and why the cat is still in a ball by the fountain. 

“So,” Jun says slowly, “how does the Risal understand the name you tell it?”

You shrug. 

“What if you get the name wrong? Or there’s multiple people with that name?”

You shrug again. “They’re never wrong though, in my experiences at least. It’s almost as if they understand the intent more than the name itself.”

“And the way it just disappears into the sky?” 

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

Jun smiles at the child-like excitement in your voice. He nods. “They must be incredibly smart creatures.” 

“They’re not just smart.” You begin scratching a spot under the Risal’s beak. The bird melts under your touch. “They’re magical.”

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, I thought you’d like the sea. Things at the palace are as fine as can be. Seungkwan misses you dearly. I’ll keep you updated on Father and other palace occurrings. Although in all honesty, things have been quiet since your departure. I hope you’re resting well and enjoying the southern scenery despite the circumstances. Give my regards to Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun. -Seokmin 

—LORD JUN—

“The service was long today.” Jun states exiting the temple with Wonwoo and you. The southern temples, unlike the palace temple, were old and traditionally built. This temple in particular had been built long before the Holy Wars. 

“I didn’t think so.” Wonwoo says, swatting a hand around his face to shoo away a bug. “What did you think?” 

But when they look over at you, you appear to be somewhere else altogether. Suddenly, you still. 

 “Is that a…” you begin, your voice small, unbelieving. 

Jun follows your gaze to a building at the top of the hill behind the temple. He follows your gaze to the sanctuary. You start walking towards the hill before Jun and Wonwoo can stop you. 

The sanctuary hasn’t been used in years, and the state of it shocks Jun. In fact, the sanctuary itself shocks Jun. He’s never been inside one. His knowledge of them was limited to what he had seen and read in textbooks growing up. Before the Holy Wars, all temples used to have sanctuaries nearby. They were built in honor of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Sculptures were meant to line the walls of the sanctuaries, seven on the left for the Sins and seven on the right for the Gifts. And at the front of the sanctuaries, a sculpture of Maratelli the archangel was meant to stand tall. However after the Holy Wars, most sanctuaries were destroyed by mobs. People no longer felt the need to pay their respects to the beings who started the war that nearly destroyed the kingdom. The few sanctuaries that weren’t burned to the ground were left vandalized, most of the sculptures reduced to rubble. 

The sanctuary Jun, Wonwoo, and you stand in is no exception. Cobwebs cover all the walls and a thick layer of dust clouds everything in sight. The sanctuary is hauntingly cold and damp. Only two sculptures are left standing: Maratelli’s, whose arms and wings have been broken off, and one of the Gifts. Upon closer examination, Jun finds that the other standing sculpture is the one dedicated to you, the Gift of Fortitude. The face of the sculpture is gone as if someone chipped away at the stone until the contours of the face disappeared. And on top of the blank stone where the face should be, die is written in black paint and monster is written on the torso. The sight makes Jun sick to the stomach. 

But that’s not where Jun finds you. Instead, Jun and Wonwoo find you kneeling on the floor next to the broken stone of what once was a sculpture dedicated to the Sin of Pride. Jun helplessly realizes the tragedy that must litter your past in the way that everyone you once knew died before your eyes. You bow your head to the floor and sob. Jun feels like an intruder in this moment, as if he’s watching something personal and private, something not meant for his eyes. The broken marble you bury your face into does little to conceal the pain in your sobs, and Jun can’t help the way his heart aches at the sheer amount of heartbreak that rings from your cries. 

Jun and Wonwoo decide to wait for you outside. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“If I may ask, when was the last time you had a worthy opponent?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the silence of your lunch. Only you and Wonwoo were present today. 

You think it over for a moment. It's been a while since you’ve fought anyone. Even while training Hansol and the Princes, you never fought them yourself. “The Holy Wars most likely.” 

Wonwoo nods, placing a hand under his chin. “Not that I would make one, but one of these days could we fight?”

You suck in a breath. Wonwoo’s question feels foreign in your mind. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Just a friendly scuffle?” 

“I don’t—“ 

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“We could set up rules to prevent such, and I can take a little pain. I might be retired but—”

“No, Wonwoo.” You cut him off. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

He shrinks back into his seat. “Forgive me. But…” he hesitates, “can I ask why not?” 

You sigh. “I don’t fight for pleasure anymore.” 

***

The sea is quieter than usual and the waves crash in whispers the day you and Wonwoo go for a walk along the shore. You had quickly adapted to the way your feet sink in the sand; and today, you find comfort in it.  

It’s also the day that Wonwoo reveals his plans to head home soon. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t Wonwoo’s home. He explains how his family lives farther east and how he splits his time between Jun’s estate and his own home, travelling back and forth frequently. And when you question why he even bothers returning to Jun’s estate, why he bothers leaving home, Wonwoo laughs loudly and explains that Jun pays him good money to stay and keep him company. You also hadn’t realized that this was Wonwoo’s job.

—LORD JUN—

“Don’t you think it’s a little desperate to pay Wonwoo to leave his family and keep you company?” You tease as you and Jun wave goodbye to Wonwoo.

Jun scoffs, side eyeing Wonwoo’s retreating figure. “Is that what he told you?” You nod. “I’ll have you know he was staying for free before I insisted on him accepting the money.” 

You laugh, and Jun notices the way your eyes crinkle. “Yes, yes. I figured as much.”   

The young servant girl appears then, asking Jun if anything more is needed. Jun tells her she can go home for the day, and she flushes a dark red. Jun notices how you notice. 

And when the servant girl leaves, Jun watches the way you smile, your lips concealing a secret.

“Fortitude,” he blurts, “would you like to go on a walk with me?” 

***

“What’s her name? The young servant girl?” You ask as you both start along the path towards the beach. 

“Mina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

You nod slowly, a smile similar to the one before growing on your face. “It’s cute, how smitten she is by you.” 

Jun bites his bottom lip. “I don’t mean to make her…” He trails off, unable to find the right words. 

“Smile less.” 

Jun quirks his head, looking up at you. “My smile…?”

You nod. “It’s your smile she falls for.” 

Jun lets the statement sink, and the wind seems to pick up while he does. A sound faintly resembling a growl comes from you. He looks over to find you struggling to keep your hair at bay, the dark locks flying wildly in the wind. 

You huff, annoyed. “I didn’t bring anything to tie it back with.” 

“You could braid it.” Jun suggests.

You run a hand through your hair in another attempt to push it back. “How terrible is it that I never learned how to braid it myself?” 

Jun blinks at you. You pick at a spot below your chin. 

“Don’t laugh.” you stutter, but it’s too late because Jun is already chuckling behind his hand. You shove him, hard. 

“Would you like me to braid it for you?” 

You look at him, your hair unattractively covering your face. You push it back, determining whether Jun’s offer is genuine or not. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.” 

Jun moves behind you, gathering your hair in his hands and beginning to braid it. 

“Where’d you learn how to braid anyways?” You ask, voice raised to be heard against the wind. 

“My sister, Jennie, would make me braid her hair sometimes.” 

You shove a loose strand behind your ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” 

“She’s illegitime, technically. My father had her with another woman before he married my mother.” 

“Where is she?” You wonder aloud as Jun finishes the braid off. 

“She married an islander, Seungcheol, and lives there with him.” Jun allows his eyes to drift towards the sea. Islands were peppered all along the coast, and the island Jennie and her husband and kids lived on was only a couple hours from here by boat. Jun made sure they visited each other often enough, and wrote to each other even more frequently. 

“It must be nice.” You mutter, focused on knotting the end of your braid. “To have a sibling.” 

And Jun swears he’s never heard anyone sound so lonely. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The walks along the shore had become a daily activity for you and Jun, but today Jun was busy which left you helplessly bored and laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind had begun to wander to Soonyoung and his impossible journey, to Hansol and your forgotten conversation, to the King and his future plans, and to Lord Mark. Maybe the King was smart to send you here after all, being far away from the Golden Palace made you forget why you were sent here to begin with. It was easy to ignore the gravity of the palace issues here at Jun’s estate. It was easy to push aside the fog in your mind when you thought about your past. It was almost too easy to throw your worries into the sea and watch them crash against the rocks. 

So when Mina walks in with a fresh load of laundry, you don't hesitate to ask if the young girl would care to accompany you on a walk. And when Mina agrees, you’re grateful that you’ve found a distraction. 

When you ask why Mina works, you learn that she is the oldest of seven. You frown at the thought of Mina's wages going all to her family, but she’s quick to tell you not to worry. Apparently Jun pays the estate staff well. The thought makes you smile. A question arises at the faint blush appearing on Mina’s cheeks. You hesitate a little. 

“Mina, do you happen to have a crush on Lord Jun?” 

Mina freezes like a deer. “Oh Lady Gift, it isn’t like that please don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I intend to marry him or anything.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s just that… Lord Jun has shown me nothing but kindness and I-“ She cuts herself off, fidgeting with her fingers. You assure her that it’s okay. Mina continues unsurely. “It’s just that it’s hard to not direct my feeling of gratitude in that way.” 

“And,” you hum, nudging her shoulder, “I’m sure it doesn’t help how handsome Lord Jun is.” 

An embarrassed smile emerges on Mina’s face, and it turns almost mischievous when she says: “I would like it to go on record that I was not the one who said it.” 

You erupt in laughter. 

***

If you knew Mina wasn’t skilled in the art of keeping things to herself, you wouldn’t have admitted to the young girl your thoughts of Jun’s face. But alas, you had, and there was nothing you could do to stop the gossiping of a young girl. It was just your luck that Jun took it upon himself to tease you for the admission endlessly. 

The day the teasing stops is the day you want nothing more than to shoot an arrow. 

To your dismay, Jun’s estate does not house an archery gallery. But when Jun learns of your desire, he offers an alternative. So with the bow and arrow you brought from the Golden Palace and wooden plates acting as targets held up by Jun himself, your wish is granted. 

You notch an arrow and breathe, taking note of the wind shift before letting the arrow fly. It hits the plate exactly where you had sent it. 

“So is it safe to assume that archery is another gift you have as a Gift?” Jun shouts to you from across the beach, pulling the arrow from out the plate and dropping it in a pile. 

“Yes, it is.” You respond, grabbing another arrow from beside you. You take notice of how nonchalantly Jun stands. “Are you not frightened by me shooting arrows towards a target that lies in your hand?” 

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?” 

You’re taken aback by the question, but you aren’t scared. The arrow would land only where you wanted it to. 

“No.”

“Then why should I be.” Jun says easily, holding the target back up. “Also, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.” He adds with a coy smile. “You think I’m too handsome.” 

You string the arrow in less than a second, aiming straight for Jun’s face. “What was that?” 

A giggling Jun cowers behind the target and runs. 

***

Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of the Golden Palace. You think and overthink the events that led up to Soonyoung being sent away and then again the ones that led up to Lord Mark’s untimely death. You find that the memories slip past your fingers, a fog encompassing them. The same fog that clouds your memories of the past. It appears that your mind houses more fog than actual memories.  It appears that the fog is driving you mad. 

You elect to think of something new. Your eyes land on the Risal from Seokmin you have yet to respond to. You would’ve sent one back sooner if the line about Seungkwan didn’t make you so upset. You reluctantly recall your last conversation with him. He was still the same foolish little boy you have always known. You suppose that’s what makes your falling out so heartbreaking. You have known all three princes from the moment they were born. You raised them alongside their mother and your dearest friend, and when she passed, you raised them like they were your own family. Not exactly like a mother, but something more akin to a cousin or an aunt. The three princes were the closest thing you had to a family, and the thought that Seungkwan could love you romantically repulsed you. You were mad at Seungkwan, disappointed in him, and yet, you still miss him as much as you miss Seokmin and Soonyoung. You long to talk with the three princes like you once did, before Seungkwan loved you and before they were old enough to concern themselves with the state of the kingdom and the state of their own father. And this time, the longing is what drives you mad.   

You decide that thinking will only lead to misery tonight, and with a glance at the full moon outside your window, you also decide a walk must be better than lying here, drowning in your own thoughts. You pull on a pair slippers before silently exiting your room. 

The beach is quiet tonight. The waves tease and kiss the shore and then disappear back into the sea. While you walk, you think about all the ways the sea has shown itself to you. You only realize how far you’ve walked when you reach the rocks. 

You were told about the rocky cliffs that laid a little to the west of Jun’s estate by Jun, Wonwoo, and Mina. But you had never walked so far with either of them to see them yourself. 

The waves don’t seem larger here, but they crash against the rocks as if they are. The waves and the rocks clash like two forces in battle. Somehow the image and the sound bring a bit of comfort to the battle raging in your mind. 

Where you stand, the rocks are scattered, but further along the beach, the rocks multiply and gather until they completely cover the sand. The rocks start flat and then pile on top of each other until you’re staring at the rocky cliffs you have heard so much about. You think you like this rocky beach more than the sandy one you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You stiffen when you notice a figure sitting on one of the flat rocks. The person looks tired in the way they sit with their shoulders dropped and dragging, and yet the person is so captivated by the sea they don’t even notice you coming. Upon closer examination, you realize that you recognize the figure sitting alone on the rocks. Your guard drops when you realize the person is Jun. 

“Jun,” you say, appearing behind him, carefully walking towards where he sits on the rocks.

“Ah, Fortitude.” He doesn’t flinch at your appearance. He doesn’t even bother taking his eyes off the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum. “And you?” 

He shakes his head. “Wonwoo calls this spot the insomniac's bed.” 

“Do you come here often then?”

“Nearly every night.” He looks away from the sea and stares at you still standing behind him.“Please,” he stutters, patting a dry patch of rock next to him, “sit.” You do.

“Is it safe to jump into the water from there?” You ask suddenly. 

You wait for Jun to follow your eyes. “Ah, from the cliff?” You nod. “It isn’t safe to jump from most cliffs. There could be rocks in the water, or if the waves are too strong they could push you back against the base of the cliff.” 

“Yes, but what about this cliff?” 

Jun sighs, although he doesn’t sound tired or frustrated. “They call that cliff Angel’s Peak.” 

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because you’ll need the wings of an angel to survive it.” 

“Oh.” You don't think about it any further. 

The two of you don’t speak, the waves that crash against the rocks do that for you. You let the sound overwhelm you, feeling more peace and more clarity than you’ve felt in years. 

As a Gift of the Spirit, you lived longer than most, and part of your powers allow you to stay young. You could though, grow old. You could wake up one day and decide to start aging again. You could let herself wrinkle and grey like everyone else. But after King Jeonghan died, after the last person who knew you as more than just a Gift stopped aging, you did too. You have been told that even though your face doesn’t show your age, your eyes do. It’s been said that your eyes tell the story of all the years you’ve endured. 

You study Jun. This must be it, you think. This must be what people see when they look at your eyes because when you look at Jun’s, you can see the life he’s endured behind them. You can see the age behind the brown. You wonder what Jun must be thinking in this moment to make his life appear so long and sad. You wonder how Jun manages to feel like an equal to you despite your life being so much longer. You wonder—

“How old are you?”

If Jun’s shocked by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “As old as Soonyoung,” then with a sigh he adds, “but I feel as old as you.” 

And with the way Jun says it, as if he holds mountains on his shoulders, you believe him. 

“Well, maybe not as old as you,” Jun continues, talking quickly as if he misspoke. “I just meant that I feel old. Or at least older than I am.” 

“No,” you mumble, picking at a loose strand, “I think I understand.”

“Can I ask you a question then?” 

“Depends.” 

Jun waits a beat as if he’s testing the words on his tongue first. “How old are you?”

You inhale. “Too old, Jun.” 

He doesn’t ask you to explain any further, but when you think about the years behind Jun’s eyes, something in you yearns to tell him more anyways. 

“It’s a lonely thing to do,” you continue, eyes trained on the water, “to get old but not grow old.” 

“So then why don’t you?” 

“These days, I’m not so sure.” You meet Jun’s gaze, and suddenly you feel as tired as you do old. 

“Good night, Jun,” you tell him, standing up, “I hope sleep comes to you soon.” 

*** 

Dear Seokmin, I miss the old days. Why did you boys have to grow so old? Why did things have to get so difficult? Keep me updated on palace news, but spare me the court’s gossip. I worry about Soonyoung too much for my own good. Tell me if you hear anything from him. Tell Seungkwan that I miss him too, but that I’ve missed him long before I left the Golden Palace. -Fortitude

—LORD JUN—

The wind was softer and the sun hid behind the clouds more often after that night at the rocks. It was hard for Jun to explain, but after that day, something had changed. You let him in, and suddenly, things were different. You would ask Jun to braid your hair again, and he’d do it with a smile. He found himself craving more.

So when he asks you if you were born as a Gift of the Spirit, he knows he’s been thinking about the question long before he felt comfortable enough to ask it. 

“No.” You tell him, kicking your feet in the sand. “I was born normal. Just like anyone else.” 

“Oh,” Jun says softly. 

“It happened when I was six.” You continue. “The other six Gifts came to my village, told me I was destined to be Fortitude, and that was that.” 

“Six?” Jun repeats, saddened by how young you were. You nod. “You never got to be a kid.” 

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

And when the frown that appears on your lips pulls at a certain part of Jun, he decides he wants to help you take back a little piece of your stolen past. “Tell me something you wish you could’ve done.” 

You squint at him. 

“As a child, what’s one thing you wish you could’ve done?” 

You exhale deeply. “Oh, I don’t know.” You pause, then laugh a little. “I guess, run.” 

It was Jun’s turn to squint. “Run?”

“I mean to run like a child. Barefoot and wild and mad.” 

Jun starts pulling his shoes off. 

“Well,” Jun states when you give him a blank stare, “are you going to run with me or what?”

Slowly, you begin pulling your boots off too. Then once you’re both barefoot, feet sinking in the cold sand, Jun nods, and 

you run. 

By the time you stop, the air has emptied itself from Jun’s lungs. You, on the other hand, glow with something Jun can’t put his finger on, but you glow and smile so brightly Jun thinks the numbness in his legs is worth it. 

Jun only realizes you’ve run as far as the rocks when you start climbing up to the top of Angel’s Peak. Jun begrudgingly climbs up the cliff behind you. 

When you finally reach the top, Jun sits, exhausted and lets his legs dangle over the edge. He inhales, refilling his lungs with the sea’s salty mist. 

Jun loves the sea. He loves the water. It’s almost as if the water is a part of him, as if the salty sea carries his heart between the waves. And somehow the water loves Jun back. Jennie used to call him a mermaid because of how well he swims, and at one point, Jun had convinced himself he was. Jun feels at home by the sea. He feels peace listening to the seagulls and the lapping water. If time allowed it, Jun would spend years staring at the blue water. 

Today however, sitting on top of the rocky cliffs with the Gift of Fortitude, Jun doesn’t watch the sun dip into the ocean and disappear beyond the horizon. Today Jun watches you. He watches how you seem to be smiling without a smile. He watches the water spray on your forehead and the scrunch of your nose when it does. He watches stories of a kingdom before his birth and of people he will never meet unfold behind your eyes. He wonders how much time he could spend staring at you. 

You meet his eyes, and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so happy. Yet for some reason, when your lips do turn up in a smile, all he can think of is the image of you at the sanctuary. How you knelt on the floor and clutched the crushed marble belonging to the Sin of Pride. All he can think of is the soul-crushing amount of hurt in your cries. 

Jun hesitates. 

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?” 

In that moment, the seagulls seem to turn quiet, and the waves seem to pause a second away from hitting the rocks. Jun thinks he’s gone too far or that he’s asked you too much. In that moment, Jun wants to swallow the words back. But before he can, the seagulls break their silence, screeching somewhere in the clouds. And the waves don’t just hit the rocks, they slam and bang and beat against them. Jun coughs the words up before he can take them back. Your lips part, and Jun’s forced to watch as a new story unfolds behind your eyes, one of youth, loss, hurt, and hate. And then you surprise him by smiling. 

“The Sin of Pride,” you start tucking your knees under your chin, “was my best friend before I was a Gift and he was a Sin. His name was Chan, and we grew up in the same village. He was announced as the Sin of Pride a week before I was.” 

Jun repeats the name in his mind. Then once outloud. You blink as if it’s weird to hear it said by someone else. It sparks Jun’s curiosity, and he wonders aloud if you had a name before Fortitude. 

“I did, but I’m no longer the person that name was given to.” You say, voice low and cold. 

“Forgive me if I intruded.” 

You shake your head. “You asked. There’s a difference.” 

He turns his eyes to the water. “Is it hard to remember?” 

“Usually.” You tell him with a small pout. Then after a pause you add: “When I think about the past, there’s this fog, and that fog makes remembering painful. In fact the headache I had the morning we first met was caused by trying to remember something the night before. But right now, the fog in my mind isn’t so thick; right now, I’m not struggling to remember.” 

Jun listens to you speak intently. He doesn’t want to push you, but he can’t help his own curiosity. So when Jun hears an invitation laced within the tone of your voice. Jun realizes that some part of you wants to remember as much as Jun wants to know. 

And so, he says: “Tell me about your past.”

And you do. 

You tell Jun about the village you grew up in and your parents. You describe to him how different and peaceful the kingdom was under the reign of the Queen who ruled when you were young. You tell him about Chan and the week he was taken. Then, you tell him about the week you were taken yourself. 

“Back then, all the Sins and Gifts were adored by the people, they were loved.” You recall, and Jun can’t help but notice the jealousy that seeps between the crack in your voice. “They rode with such confidence and were respected by the people. So respected that my mother didn’t even hesitate to let them take me away.” This time sadness is what seeps through the crack.  

“Where’d they take you?” 

You halt at Jun’s question. “I don’t remember,” you say slowly as if you aren’t sure of the words leaving your own mouth. “The next thing I do remember is arriving at the Golden Palace, but by then, they had already made me the Gift of Fortitude.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” You scratch at your chin. “And now that I think about it, it must’ve been at least a year between when I left my family to when I was taken to the Golden Palace.” 

Jun turns to you, wondering how you could possibly lose an entire year of memory, and then wondering how terrible it must be for you knowing that you have. 

“Did you get to see your family again?” 

You shake your head. “My mother fought and died in the Holy Wars. I saw my father once, after it was all over, but he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He wanted nothing to do with the person who was on the side of the war his wife died fighting against.” 

“But what about the fact that you're his daughter?”

You bite your bottom lip. “At that point, he no longer saw me as his daughter.”

Jun can’t imagine how much it must hurt to admit, especially considering how much it hurts Jun to even hear. 

“But it was okay, because I never really knew my father and because I had Chan.” You tell Jun with a smile. “By the time we became Sins and Gifts, the two groups were already fighting; they just hadn’t made it into a war yet. The Queen went as far as having the Gifts and Sins stay in opposite wings of the Golden Palace to avoid confrontation. Chan and I used to sneak out to the palace roof at nights just to talk. But then,” your smile turns down, “the Queen was killed.”

Jun knows this part although you repeat the story written in textbooks anyways. The Queen was murdered under an order from the Gifts, and by the time her son, Jeonghan, took the throne, the Seven Gifts had fled from the palace, marking the start of the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t see Chan much after that. The next and last time I saw him was right before he died.” You continue. 

“Is that why you switched sides?” 

You nod. “As Sins and Gifts, we’re gifted with fighting skill, but our injuries are fatal. That’s how most of the Sins and Gifts died during the Holy Wars. So when I heard news that Chan had been injured, I knew it was only a matter of time until he would be dead too. He was being nursed inside the Golden Palace, and as a Gift, I wasn’t allowed in. So King Jeonghan struck me a deal. Jeonghan said that if I protected him and stayed loyal to him until his death, he would allow me to come to the palace and see Chan.”

You stop to breathe. Jun doesn’t say anything, but you watch him as if you’re waiting for him too. Jun thinks it’s wrong, what King Jeonghan did. Jun thinks he had no right to make you indebted to him. Somehow, you seem to sense what Jun’s thinking. 

“It’s easy to point blame, but in reality, the line between right and wrong and between good intentions and bad ones are more blurred than they appear. Jeonghan wasn’t much older than me. Jeonghan watched his mother die in the wake of this conflict between the Sins and Gifts, a conflict he had nothing to do with. Jeonghan was as young and as desperate and as scared as I was, only he was the King. By then, I was only 12. I didn’t know much better. I was desperate and more scared of losing my best friend over the trust of the last remaining Gift so… I accepted. I sacrificed everything to watch Chan take his dying breath.” 

Through the memories you share with him, Jun begins to understand. He learns more about the Holy Wars through your pain and fear than he ever did in his history lessons. But most of all, Jun understands that you were too young to shoulder the weight of war. 

“When the last remaining Gift other than me died, I gave up the war. I ended five years of wasted blood and pointless death just like that.” You pick at the sand under your nail. “I never liked the war. I was never even told what we were fighting for until the war was over.” You say, and if you can tell how surprised Jun is to hear that you didn't even know the reason for the Holy Wars, you ignore it. “I fought blindly, and I surrendered blindly too.” 

Jun stays silent, but his mind runs wild. How many days did you spend on a battlefield? How many lives did you take? How much blood did you allow to shed for a cause you didn’t even know? 

“Do you regret it?” He asks, focused on the water because at that moment Jun can’t trust himself to look at you. 

You’re quiet. 

“I regret it all.” 

The image of you weeping in the sanctuary appears in Jun’s mind again. He hears something new in his memory of your cries. He hears regret. 

The small part of Jun that’s upset with you dissolves the moment he looks over and sees the regret that darkens your eyes. In that moment, Jun can’t manage to feel anything but pity towards the person next to him. 

“It's terrible what I did.” You say solemnly. “I sat idly by while half the kingdom died before my eyes. I know that people call me a monster, and how can I say that I’m not when I’m responsible for the deaths of so many?” You look at him, but Jun feels frozen because he can’t seem to let go of the fact that you were only 12 when this all happened. 

“Fortitude,” Jun says gently with all the love he can muster. Love to make up for the hate you so deeply feel. Not towards anyone, not towards the world. But the shocking amount of hate you feel towards yourself. “No part of you is a monster. Because the Holy Wars were not your fault. And because it never will be.” 

Jun can see something in you come apart. Jun can see the deep-rooted hate you have harbored for yourself escape from the corners of your eyes. 

And when Jun says, “The sins of your predecessors are not yours to suffer,” he swears he hears something within you break.

You both stare at the sea in a deafening silence. It’s a long time before anyone speaks again. But by the time Jun does say something, the heavy air has been taken away by the current. 

“Although I’m still curious,” you motion for Jun to continue, “what did the Holy Wars turn out to be about?” 

You close your eyes and keep them closed for longer than Jun can call normal. When you do open your eyes again, they’re angry, and there’s just a hint of venom in your voice when you say: “I can’t remember.” 

You throw your hands up. “Oh Jun, there’s so much I don’t know. About this kingdom and its history. About me and what it means to be a Gift of the Spirit. I don’t even know if there was a Gift of Fortitude before me. All of these things I was supposed to learn from the other Gifts. They were meant to teach me and mentor me, but they were too concerned with their own conflict. They left me with so many unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries. Half of which concern myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it is if Jeonghan didn’t have all the libraries burned to the ground and all of the historic scrolls and teachings from the Elders reduced to ashes with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

You sigh, but in the next moment you’re nearly laughing. Jun helplessly wonders how you’re able to change your mood so quickly, and then he wonders how you’re able to let go of things so easily. 

“You know Jun, I’ve never told anyone these things before.” You say with the likeness of a laugh. 

Jun tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one’s ever asked.”

Jun watches the waves. He finds a picture of himself in the waves and one of you in the rocks. For he appears and is tall, grand, rolling, and proud, but then he crashes and disappears back into the murky waters. And the rocky cliffs watch it all happen. You are the cliff, still and unyielding; while Jun is just another wave, there in the moment and gone in the next.

“Did you love him?” Jun asks then, the image of the wave crashing against the rock replaying in his mind. 

“Chan?” 

Jun nods, and you look up to the sky. 

“I was too young to even know what love looked like.”

It’s then that Jun tastes the salt on his lips. 

***

After that day, you’re bedridden for some time with a migraine. You spend so long locked in your room with the lights off, Jun tries sending you a nurse. You refuse the help stubbornly but politely. The next time he sees you is when you feel well enough to join him for dinner. 

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He says as Mina brings out plates with your meals. 

“I am, thank you Jun.” You take a bite of your food. 

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?” 

You nod. “I’ve never been able to recall that much before.” The statement sounds sad to Jun, and yet, you say it happily. “The pain of the headache was worth how good it felt to remember.”  

“Have you forgotten what you remembered?” Jun asks, thinking back to when you said you usually forget again after. 

“Oddly enough, I have not.” You smile. Jun feels a little hot; he thinks the fire must’ve grown in the hearth.   

“Jun, do you know what Fortitude means?” Jun shakes his head at your question as your dinner comes near an end. “I was told it meant courage.” You continue, clinking your fork against the plate.”And it feels like such a burden. To carry this responsibility. And to carry this name.” 

Jun stares at you. He watches the way your arms dangle by your side as if they would fall off at the drop of a hat. He watches how you keep your eyes on your now empty plate. He watches you keep a smile on your face despite the way your voice sounds so sad. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“That’s alright Jun.” The corner of your lip quirks. “Sometimes it’s more important to be heard than to be understood.” 

You stand up and excuse yourself from dinner. Jun watches you go. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

When Wonwoo finally returns to Jun’s estate, it feels like he’s been gone for an eternity. You’re out in the market with Mina when he comes riding down the street on horseback. You call his name until he turns towards you. You have to unwrap the scarp you have fitted around your head and face before he recognizes you. 

Later that day, you and Wonwoo ride on horseback through a forest trail. You wonder aloud why he isn’t tired after sitting on a saddle for the better part of the day. He shrugs and says something about not minding the pain of riding in exchange for the scenery. 

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about something.” You can hear the concern in Wonwoo’s voice. You sit up on your horse. “Jun’s father’s death anniversary is approaching.”

Oh. 

“He tends to get very…” Wonwoo trails off, scratching the stubble growing on his chin. “He just isn’t himself during this part of the year. I thought you might appreciate a warning.” 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” You wait a beat. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“I heard you were close to Jun’s father.”

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I’ll be fine. It’s Jun I worry about.” 

“And who’s here to worry about you?” 

Wonwoo sighs. “Thank you for the concern.” 

***

The day of the anniversary itself, Wonwoo spends the entire day in his room and Jun disappears somewhere on the beach, only returning to the estate to ready himself for the temple service that night. You think that the whole estate, not just the residents, but the walls, the stone, the furniture, the rugs; the whole estate seems to be in mourning. You find yourself wanting to mourn too. 

There’s a knock on your door later that day while you’re reading a Risal from Seokmin. 

“Come in.” 

“Lady Gift, it’s time for the memorial service.” 

You hum. “Give my peace to Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo.” 

“Uh, no, Lady Gift.” Mina shifts her weight. You look over to where she stands by the door. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the service.” You stare at Mina. “Lord Jun requested that you attend the service as well.” 

“Oh,” you’re taken aback. You hadn’t realized you were wanted. 

You come down dressed in the traditional red color worn during burials and memorials. You do your best to find a red scarf to match. You meet Jun downstairs, and he tells you that you’re still waiting for Wonwoo. 

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure and timid. Suddenly the clothes feel itchy on your skin. “Jun, are you sure you want me to come?”

Jun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you” 

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”     

Jun pouts. “There's a dock on the east side of the beach my father used to take me to. I went there today. While I was there, I was thinking about the service tonight, and I found myself thinking about you.” You swallow. “I thought about all that you shared with me the other day and about all the death you’ve seen. It’s probably better that you never knew my father. You have enough fires to light and people to mourn as it is. Remember one of them instead.”

Wonwoo appears then before you can say anything back, and you all, including Mina, head to the temple in a solemn silence. 

The temple is a sea of red. Wonwoo whispers to you that Jun’s father was loved by the people. You think that loved is an understatement; nearly the entire town has come out for the memorial service. 

You watch the fire rage. It was tradition to light fires for the dead. Years ago, fires were only lit 30 days after the death itself, but somewhere along the line, it had been normalized to light fires on the death anniversaries as well. The fire the temple has lit tonight burns bright and tall, as tall as the temple itself. The air around the temple is more smoke and flames than oxygen. You almost feel as if you’re suffocating, not from the smoke, but from the strife of an entire town which burns in the fire and contaminates the air. You choke on the sadness saturating your lungs and lingering in your veins. Your heart empties in tune with the mourning of the people for their beloved Lord. 

You inhale. 

You watch as Jun and Wonwoo throw burning logs into the flames. Soon after, others follow, throwing their own burning logs into the growing fire. You have to take a step back from the flame. Or rather Mina pulls you back muttering something about how the flying embers are dangerous. But you could care less. All you can manage to do is stare at the service unfolding before you, stunned. You have never seen a memorial service quite like this one. At the palace, the services were kept small and formal, limited to few guests and even smaller fires. But here, in these southern lands that you’re coming to love, even little children throw in twigs picked up from the nearby forest. The entire town throws in something. The entire town gets to remember the lost soul. You think that in some twisted way, it's beautiful. It’s beautiful how no one is left to mourn alone. 

You listen in on a group nearby, enough to hear that the group is sharing memories and stories of Jun’s father. The group erupts in laughter. It seems out of place almost, such loud laughter in the midst of a memorial service, but when you look around the crowd you see a similar image in every corner. The people laugh and smile. They remember with joy. You recall that day on Angel’s Peak with Jun and how good it felt to recall a part of your past. You think this must be like that. Loss was painful, but forgetting was worse. And through remembering, these people have made their pain their own to mend, bend, and break. 

It dawns on you then that the people are throwing in the love they can’t give as much as they’re throwing in their sadness for the loss. You learn that the fire before you doesn’t just rage, but that it cries and laughs as well. You learn that the wild warmth is more than just a fire; it’s an image of their love and loss. 

Jun appears beside you then. He doesn’t look as happy as the others, but he looks less sad than he did before. He hands you a log and lights it with a match. You watch the fire eat up the wood in your hand before throwing it into the orange flames. Normally, only direct family members are allowed to throw things in the fire. So when Jun hands you the log to throw, it’s actually the first time you've ever been allowed to do so. 

The last memorial you attended was for the princes’ mother. It was also the last time their father, the King, looked human to you. 30 days after her death a fire was lit by the palace temple. Seungkwan had just been born, still only an infant held in his father's arms. Soonyoung and Seokmin were young as well, and the two boys clung to their father’s legs crying more out of confusion than anything else. You watched it all happen from a corner. You watched as the four boys, the King and his sons, weeped for their lost love. You watched as they threw in burning logs. And you watched it all behind a blur of your own tears. 

You had burned a fire for your old friend, and you had burned a fire Jeonghan. But you never even lit a match for Chan; and worse than that, you never bothered to mourn the loss of your mother and father. 

Jun was right. You have plenty of fires to burn and logs to throw. So when a child passes by with a wagon of sticks in tow, you don’t hesitate to grab a handful. You throw one in for the princes’ mother, the friend that made you feel human again. You throw one in for Jeonghan, the tortured teen who understood. You throw a stick for Chan who you sacrificed everything for. You throw two in for your mother and father who you lost long before their hearts stopped beating. You throw in several for the other Sins and Gifts who created that pointless war and left you lost in your own immortal soul. You throw in the rest for Lord Mark and all the lives that have been taken by your hands. You throw your regret into the fire and mourn. 

You forget Jun’s next to you, until he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lean into his touch, and the two of you mourn together.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You spend another sleepless night in bed thinking of Soonyoung, thinking of the King, thinking of this kingdom. And when sunlight peaks from behind your curtains, you decide you’re tired of waiting. You send a hopeful Risal to Prince Soonyoung. 

The Risal returns while you’re shooting arrows alone. When Wonwoo came back and learned how you were using plates as targets and Jun as a stand, he had crafted targets hanging from the tree branches for you to use instead. You were thankful for Wonwoo’s generosity, but now, as you notch another arrow through your bowstring, you feel Jun’s absence greatly. 

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud. 

It’s while you’re pulling the arrows from the target and placing them back in your quiver that you hear the Risal’s screech. You hold your arm out and wait for the bird to swoop down.  

No message, you think when the Risal comes back empty. You aren’t surprised that Soonyoung received your message but didn’t bother to send one back. You have been sending the eldest Prince Risals since he departed from the Golden Palace at the start of spring, and every single one of your Risals came back with no reply. So no, you aren’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop the way your shoulders sag and your lips dip in a repetitive, dull dissapointment. 

You spend the rest of the day drowning in your own worries. 

And when your thoughts somehow travel to Wonwoo’s handcrafted hanging targets. And to Jun and how he opened up his home to you, and how he listens. You decide it’s time to tell Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun the truth; the truth you owe them. 

“Did Soonyoung respond to your Risal?” Jun asks at dinner that night. You answer his questions with a tired sigh and a small no. 

You recognize that it’s time to repay their kindness with honesty. So when Jun and Wonwoo share a look and ask you timidly why exactly Prince Soonyoung was sent away to begin with, you know. This is your chance. So you take it by the neck and run. 

You recall to Jun and Wonwoo the day things started changing within the Golden Palace. The day Soonyoung came to you sad and betrayed and alone. 

“This isn’t right,” Soonyoung muttered to you on that cold winter day. He sat in your sitting room, his hands holding up his head from falling off his shoulders altogether. You took a long sip of your tea. This was no surprise to you. From the day Soonyoung had turned old enough to understand the workings of this kingdom and sit in on council meetings, he had been meeting with you like this. Letting you in on his doubts about the policies being put in order. About this kingdom. Doubts about his place as a Prince and other ones about his own father. Eventually, Seokmin joined these meetings. Then Seungkwan did too. It had become custom, for the four of them, a Gift of the Spirit and three Princes, to sit in your sitting room, to talk about and worry for your kingdom, that was slipping into disorder and that you all loved so much.

On that cold winter day, however, only Soonyoung sat with you. Seokmin was on a northern campaign, and Seungkwan travelled with the Knights of the Holy Order leading his knights as their Commander, and all too young for the responsibility and the role. But an amazing Commander nonetheless. 

“He can’t do this,” Soonyoung had groaned, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit by and watch.” 

You halted, your teacup moments away from reaching your lips. You set it back down. 

“Prince Soonyoung, what are you suggesting?” 

He huffed and shook his head. You had thought he looked wild and angry and unhinged. “He’s set himself on a course to drive this kingdom into the dirt. Father hasn’t been himself for some time now. Something is wrong. Something that we can’t see. And the longer we wait, the worse he’ll get.”

“Soonyoung,” you said again, the name sounding like a plea. 

“He is no longer fit to be king!” Soonyoung slammed his hand down on the table. 

You clicked your tongue, unaffected by Soonyoung’s sudden outburst. “So it’s a coup you’re suggesting then?” 

He sighed. “I’ve already decided. He has to be stopped.” He paused, looking at you with eyes that reminded you of the days he and his brothers would run around the palace courtyard. Your heart ached at the memory. “I want you to help me. But I’ll do this without your help too.”

And so you started planning Soonyoung’s eventual overthrow of the King and of his father. 

“We kept it a secret, Soonyoung and I,” you continue. Jun and Wonwoo listen silently but intently. “We didn’t even tell his brothers. The only other person we told was Hansol. And while we plotted against the King, I started remembering things. For some reason, being around Soonyoung so much, helped me remember. The memories are broken and blurry, but in them I saw flashes of my past and found forgotten conversations with the King. He would speak with me privately quite often as a consultant of sorts. And it was in recovering those shared words, that things really started to change for Soonyoung and me. Because in my memories, the King sounds as insane as the rebellious eastern Lords make him out to be. In one moment, he’s crying about how alone he feels in this world and how he longs to go home. And in the next, he’s asking me how he can talk to Angels. It was clear to Soonyoung and I that his father wasn’t himself anymore. The King had gone mad. 

“We started hearing about his experiments at the start of summer. The King insisted that these experiments would allow him to talk to an Angel and that they’d make him less lonely. And you must understand, all of this was hard for Soonyoung. It was difficult for him to watch his own father spiral into insanity. So when Soonyoung got evidence of the King’s experiments, he took matters into his own hands. He openly defied his father, in front of the council, and so the King sent him away.

“They’re both so impulsive it’s almost laughable how the whole thing played out. But either way, the night before he left Soonyoung came to me and told me how he wasn’t giving up. He told me that when he returned to the Golden Palace it’d be as the King. So I told him…” You trail off, searching for the best way to say this next part without making yourself sound as mad as the King. 

It’s Wonwoo who asks, leaning off the edge of his seat like he can’t stand the suspense of it. “What did you tell Prince Soonyoung?” 

“I told him to go to the Nomads’ Lands.” 

Jun chokes on his water. 

You continue on with the story, unbothered. 

“Although the King was the one to send him away, I think he was also the saddest to watch Soonyoung go. I know it must be hard to believe, but the King wasn’t always as crazy as he is now. He’s always been impulsive, yes, but he used to be strong, charming, kingly. And he was devastated by his son’s absence in their home. Ultimately, I think that’s what drove him over the edge. That’s what made him so desperate to stop feeling so alone. So desperate he injected Lord Mark with one of his experiments, and he made me watch. But I knew as well as the King that the experiment had gone wrong. Yet he insisted on it working. He was so desperate he convinced himself that if we just waited everything would work out. Lord Mark was locked in the palace prisons that night, and no one but the King and I knew.

“I told you,” you look at Jun, “that I had my reasons. I didn’t want to kill him. I take no pleasure in murder. But the experiment had gone wrong, and Lord Mark was in pain. If you had heard the way he cried and screamed and the way it echoed throughout the prison walls and the way—” 

You break. No, you don’t just break. You shatter. It’s been so long since you’ve made yourself feel the shame of your crimes. But now looking straight into the eyes of the sins you’ve committed. You crack and break and shatter into a million pieces. Each of your infinite shards tainted with a cruel shade of guilt. 

Jun reaches over and covers your hand that rests atop of the table with his own. And although he’s only touching one small part of you, you feel his warmth in every part of your soul.

And when he says, “You took him out of his misery. If I were half as brave as you, I’d do the same,” you feel as if he’s lending you his strength. 

He squeezes your hands once, then pulls away. You feel suddenly, foolishly cold. 

“So that’s why Soonyoung was sent away,” you finish, looking up at Wonwoo and Jun. “And that’s why I was sent away too.” You feel tired and drained. Like you’ve fought off an entire army of men. Like you’ve been swimming against the current of the Zalazar River for years. You wonder helplessly and hopelessly why it’s so exhausting to remember yet so easy to forget. 

It’s Wonwoo who speaks again at last. “Thank you Lady Gift for entrusting us with such sensitive information. I think you know as well as I do that it’s time you tell Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan the truth too.” 

“Yes,” you mutter, already dreading the lengthy Risal you would have to write before bed, “I do.” 

“I’m still curious about one thing,” Jun says with a hand under his chin, “why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads?”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of your last conversation with Hansol, and how he held your face and begged you to remember and how your head hurt too much to see straight by the end of the night. Yet when Jun asks the same question, his voice bouncing off the walls of your mind, an answer appears as clear as day and as white as snow. When Jun asks, you know. 

“The Nomads weren’t always as they are now. They weren’t as hostile or private. That night, I remembered that the Nomads were known to be bridges between Humans and the Elders. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands in the hopes that they’d share with him the knowledge of the Elders.” 

Jun only nods. And you’re glad for the silence that emerges, because you need a moment to process what you’ve just said yourself. The Elders were known to be channels for the Gods to spout their wisdom and hear the prayers of the people. All historic scrolls and religious teachings were based on the knowledge of the Elders. Another purpose of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts was to be a bridge between the Elders and the Humans similar to the way the Nomads were a bridge. Perhaps that’s another reason why this kingdom feels so lost. You never learned how to communicate with the Elders. Thanks to Jeonghan and his act of arson, the kingdom has none of the previous teachings from the Elders, and thanks to you, the kingdom has no new ones. 

But still, knowing that doesn’t calm the questions that arise in your mind. What knowledge from the Elders could the Nomads possibly have that would make you send Soonyoung to them? 

The dinner ends abruptly when Wonwoo stands up exclaiming how he’s tired from all that he’s just learned and bids you goodnight. You and Jun do the same soon after. 

You write to Seokmin that night. And in your Risal, you tell him everything. You tell him about Soonyoung, the experiments, Lord Mark, his father, your memories, the Nomads, and more. In the last line you ask Seokmin to extend this information to Seungkwan as well. You seal the letter and climb into bed with aching fingers. 

The response from Seokmin comes a few days later. 

Dear Fortitude, I didn’t know about Lord Mark. Thank you for doing what you did. Not even he deserved to be kept alive in pain and hurting. But everything else, Seungkwan and I, we already knew. Soonyoung told us everything the night before he left. But thank you nonetheless. -Seokmin 

That sounds right to you. Those three boys, those brothers, they were like that. At each other’s throats one day and hugging each other the next. Chasing Seungkwan around the palace grounds. Playing pranks on Soonyoung. And setting silly traps for Seokmin. Tackling each other to the ground and then spilling all their secrets. They’re each other's best friend as much as they’re brothers. It was only natural Soonyoung told them the truth. And you’re glad he did. 

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JUN—

Jun hopes you never learn how to braid your own hair.  Your hair was so soft and it smelled nice too. Jun took some sort of pleasure in being the one to braid your hair back every time the wind was too strong and you forgot a hair tie which happened more often than not. 

“It must be hard,” you say as Jun sections your hair into three parts, “for Wonwoo to spend so much time away from his family.” 

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck. 

“Yes, it must.” 

The next day Jun tells Wonwoo to go back home. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wonwoo laughs, although the laugh sounds hesitant and it sounds lonely. 

“Go home, Wonwoo.” Jun insists. “Paid leave.” 

Wonwoo packs up his things that very night. 

***

You have been quiet for some time now. Not just quiet in sound, but also quiet in the way you walk and eat. You silently send Risals back and forth with Seokmin, and then quietly accept the lack of response from Soonyoung. You quietly begin taking more walks and then silently start taking them alone. You have been quiet since Wonwoo left, but looking back, it appears that this quiet has been looming in the air for some time now. It’s been teetering up behind Jun, taunting him back and forth since the night you told him and Wonwoo everything. Jun isn’t so sure what to make of it. But he does know that he misses you even though you spend every second under the same roof. 

He hates the quiet. 

“Lord Jun! Come quick!” Mina screams from somewhere in the estate. Jun bolts out of his room and finds her running towards him in the halls. “It’s Lady Gift,” she says breathless, eyes wide with worry and fear, “I think she plans to jump.” 

Jun runs. 

He runs past Mina, out of the estate, onto the grassy path, towards the beach, and then westward. He runs and runs and runs. 

And there you are. Standing on top of Angel’s Peak, ready to jump. Silently. Jun’s heart stops. 

“Don’t try to stop me!” You yell at Jun and Mina watching you frozen in the sand. “I’ll jump, and I’ll survive.” 

“Lady Gift!” Mina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“ 

Jun puts a hand on Mina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop. 

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?” 

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond. 

Jun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.” 

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Mina stiffen beside him. 

“Lord Jun, what are you doing?” Mina asks frantically. 

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean. 

The water is cold. But he pushes himself through the water, swimming to the base of Angel’s Peak and feeling the strength of the sea with each movement of his arms. The waves are loud and crashing, but they aren’t strong. 

“Jun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not. 

He reaches the base of the cliff, his body now acclimated to the cold temperature of the water. He dives under the water and looks for something, anything that could hit you in your fall. The water is empty and clear. 

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.” 

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed. 

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.” 

You smirk. Then disappear from Jun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump. 

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall. 

Jun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jun watches. Amazed. 

It’s when Mina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water. 

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath. 

And dives. 

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up. 

But Jun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Mina pulls you both out of the water. And Jun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jun falls into the sand beside you. 

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Mina says scurrying away in the sand. 

Jun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted. 

“It looked like you were dying,” Jun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?” 

“I don’t want to die, Jun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then what?” 

“I wanted to feel mortal.” 

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.” 

Jun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.” 

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms. 

—LORD JUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry. 

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not. 

Jun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish. 

Jun extends everything he knows to you. 

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time. 

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean. 

*** 

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Wonwoo asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.” 

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.” 

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display. 

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.” 

Jun smiles a bit. “How so?” 

You hesitate, looking at Jun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.” 

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jun feels suddenly warm. 

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.” 

“Is it?” 

Jun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jun. 

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?” 

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Jeonghan died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…” 

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end. 

This time the tapping comes from Jun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?” 

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Jeonghan died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face. 

“I remember the fire that was lit for Jeonghan, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met the princes’ mother.”

You pause, and in the silence Jun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat. 

“I’m scared, Jun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

The words hit him like a punch to gut. He recoils under the weight. A gust of wind blows then, pushing and pulling the hairs that have escaped from your braid. He wants to reach his hand out and tuck the hair away. He only realizes a second after that he hasn’t swallowed down the impulse fast enough. He’s surprised to see you soften the teeniest bit when his fingers graze your forehead. He feels suddenly, impossibly weightless.

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Wonwoo, Hansol, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan; hell even Mina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn. 

“Oh how happy Wonwoo will be to hear all this.” 

Jun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.” 

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away. 

“And Jun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.” 

Jun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning. 

***

Jun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive. 

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other. 

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Jun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Hansol?” Jun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jun are sitting in the courtyard. 

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap. 

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?” 

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly. 

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want. 

You read and then reread the letter from Seungkwan. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Seungkwan, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Seungkwan never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Seungkwan; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Seungkwan climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince. 

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Seungkwan is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.  

“Is something wrong?” Jun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Seungkwan’s heart in your bags.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back. 

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Seungkwan then?” The question sounds hopeful. 

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Seungkwan is like a child to me.” 

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?” 

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Seungkwan since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Wonwoo by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Seungkwan still acts like a child.” Jun smiles at that. 

“Oddly enough,” Jun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.” 

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Seungkwan’s apology. Something in your mind clicks. 

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Seungkwan. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Seungkwan can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.” 

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Seungkwan, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.” 

You repeat it in your mind. 

He doesn’t want to lose you either. 

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Seungkwan’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Seungkwan feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Seungkwan must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself. 

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept. 

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms. 

***

That night she sends a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Seungkwan.

—LORD JUN—

Jun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Seungkwan. 

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Jennie?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.” 

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Actually,” Jun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?” 

***

The boat ride to the island Jennie lives on is pleasant. Jun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Jennie, and you listen to Jun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Jennie’s children and then some more for yourselves. 

By late afternoon they reach Jennie and her husband Seungcheol’s house. Jun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters. 

“Hold on,” Jun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.” 

He leads you around the house and beyond the white fence that separates the streets from the beach. You take off your shoes before proceeding in the sand. It takes one more turn and another second of walking on your already aching feet before it’s visible. 

The sea. 

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jun feels at home despite being hours away from it. 

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more. 

“Uncle Jun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug. 

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.” 

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand. 

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jun clutches his stomach in laughter. 

“Jun!” Jennie yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!” 

“You’re torturing them Jennie!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.” 

Jennie scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jun into a hug.

Jun leads Jennie to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Jennie resposds that she’s napping and that Seungcheol’s watching her. 

You stand up to greet Jennie. 

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.” 

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.” 

“Well, in that case,” Jennie coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.” 

***

Jennie, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Jennie begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jun and Seungcheol are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Seungcheol puts up the cards while Jun watches you and Jennie converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably. 

“Jun, you must stay here longer.” Seungcheol insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.” 

Jun hesitates. “I don’t know. Wonwoo is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.” 

“Oh please,” Jennie dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Wonwoo sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.” 

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jun. I had no idea.” Jun dismisses the apology.                     

Seungcheol and Jennie share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Jennie scoffs, turning dramatically to you. 

“Would you mind humouring Seungcheol with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Wonwoo and you went. Jun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing. 

“I’m no joke.” Seungcheol defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.” 

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Seungcheol takes it eagerly. 

Jun likes this. How you tease Seungcheol. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence. 

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Seungcheol yelps in shock, and Jennie hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jun, and the two of you share a look of your own. 

And through the silent conversation, Jun knows. Wonwoo would have to wait a bit longer for your return. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Wonwoo telling him that you and Jun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jun I said happy birthday. You do. 

Later that day, Jennie requests you and Jun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night. 

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand. 

You learned back when the Princes were young that you had an inexplicable knack with babies. So when Devi softens and presses herself against your body, it appears the knack has not yet been lost. You turn into mush when Devi stops crying, reaching for you. You give her a finger to hold onto and Devi takes it at once. 

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jun. Jun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb. 

But then Jun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue. 

Your chest starts to hum. He smiles at you again, and the humming grows and shifts into a song. A song that’s breathtakingly beautiful. One with chords so delightfully articulated that you don’t want to go a day without hearing them. You want your chest to hum and sing this song for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JUN— The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Jennie and Seungcheol seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jun happy as well. 

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Jennie’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat. 

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.” 

“Here.” Jun hands you the extra coat. 

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?” 

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.” 

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time. 

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.” 

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jun not telling you was an insult. Jun positions himself closer. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible. 

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Jennie and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jun comes to realize that what you tell him  now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to. 

He stares at you, frozen. And Jun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Chan, Jeonghan, your parents, the princes’ mother. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured. 

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Wonwoo, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.” 

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips. 

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders. 

—LORD JUN—

Jun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do. 

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jun’s restless heart. 

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”   

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jun’s coat. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further. 

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Jennie announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Jennie who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed. 

“How about this?” Jennie offers holding up a red dress. 

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?” 

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.” 

“And why would I want to do that?” 

“For Jun.” Jennie says it blandly. 

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jun?” You echo. 

“Nevermind then,” Jennie sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Jennie leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness. 

The bodice of the dress Jennie brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways. 

Jennie was right. Jun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?” 

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Jennie lent it to me for the night.” 

“Ah,” Jun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t? 

The dinner is a feast like Jennie had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jun follow you out. 

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up. 

“Please, Jun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back. 

“No. Tell me what’s happened.” 

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.” 

You push your door open, and Jun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near. 

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Jennie’s red dress in your hands. 

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound. 

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.” 

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of. 

Jun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you. 

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jun’s voice. 

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.” 

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love. 

You fling your hand out of Jun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jun. 

And suddenly, Jun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently. 

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder. 

“Leave me be, Jun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jun shuts the door quietly. 

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well. 

*** 

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head. 

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JUN—

Jun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops. 

Dear Jun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

When he finishes reading the letter, his heart starts beating again. Except that it doesn’t beat, it breaks. He had been reckless with his words. He isn’t going to make that mistake again. He writes you a letter of his own. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either.  But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please.  -Jun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Jeonghan. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind. 

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him. 

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body. 

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jun again, really look at Jun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do. 

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything. 

And suddenly the realization is bursting through the balcony doors and into the arms of the man you love. The realization pours out from your eyes and heart. The realization spills from your lips and paints itself across the night sky. The realization is screaming, breaking itself free. In your head, you chant. I love you. I love you. I love you. Out loud, you say, “And you must know, I’ll love you for a very long time.”

And Jun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

And because he loves you. And because you love him. And because he made you laugh after a weekend spent crying, you tilt up your chin and close the distance. For a moment, everything fits perfectly, and you, once again, feel shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JUN—

Jun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now. 

He takes his bliss and presses it to your shoulder then neck then jaw then cheek. He presses a number of blissful kisses to the infinite spots on your face he’s yet to kiss until you’re awake pushing at Jun’s face.  

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jun. 

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips. 

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?” 

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.” 

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home. 

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Wonwoo. He nods, turning to you. 

“And how about you, what do you miss?” 

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water. 

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jun counts the seconds.  One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four.  Five.  (He kisses you) Six. 

You return to the estate finally, greeting Wonwoo drenched and swollen with love.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jun return from Jennie and Seungcheol’s home that you and Wonwoo fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jun. And when you told Wonwoo at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well. 

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Wonwoo attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Wonwoo is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Wonwoo would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Wonwoo gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Wonwoo in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Wonwoo for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jun to watch. 

—LORD JUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jun. Jun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Wonwoo catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves. 

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jun must do work in his office, Wonwoo and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Seokmin and Seungkwan and another unanswered one to Soonyoung. 

You and Wonwoo continue training without Jun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Wonwoo, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight. 

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Mina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy. 

The happiest you look, however, is when Mina asks you to teach her something. You make Mina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jun mentions this, you deny it telling Jun it’s only because you taught Hansol and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Mina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jun has never been so happy. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Seungkwan. 

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Seokmin and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Seokmin fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Soonyoung soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Soonyoung as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Hansol and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Hansol a punch for me. -Seungkwan 

You think a visit from Hansol might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Wonwoo and Jun. 

***

You’re in the kitchen with Mina eating fruit when Hansol arrives. 

“He’s here.” Jun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods. 

So you grab his hand and run. 

The first thing you do when you see Hansol is punch him, as hard as Seungkwan would. 

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?” 

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Seungkwan.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.” 

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Hansol, Jun, and Wonwoo have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Hansol some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

Hansol sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.” 

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.” 

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Hansol says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Seungkwan told me you two made peace.” 

“We did.” You hum with a smile. 

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Hansol tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, Jennie, Seungcheol, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Hansol the specifics. 

Hansol listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jun?” 

Your mouth drops, and you look at Hansol shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.” 

“Ah, well, not everyone is as clueless as you when it comes to matters of the heart.” He tells you with a laugh. “If the King knew how much you’re enjoying the southern sea, I think he’d whisk you back to the palace immediately. You look happy.” 

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Hansol happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Hansol.” 

He stops in his tracks. “Really?” 

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Wonwoo and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response. 

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.” 

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Hansol jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight. 

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Hansol laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, the guards, Hansol’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Hansol, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Hansol is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Hansol will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Wonwoo, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything. 

You circle each other for a second, and when Hansol does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Hansol is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Hansol is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Hansol the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back. 

“Surrender.” You pant. 

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.” 

And you fall onto your back in the grass next to him, clutching your stomach that’s beginning to ache with your own laughs. You are exhausted and jumping within your own body from the excitement all at the same time. You lay on the grass utterly delighted with the fight.

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause. 

—LORD JUN— “Does that hurt?” Jun asks you, poking at one of the bruises on your stomach that’s already turning purple and blue. You don’t even wince. 

“Not anymore.” You say nonchalantly pulling the end of your shirt back down. It was only minutes ago that you and Hansol were pouncing on each other in the courtyard like wildcats. Hansol was so exhausted after the fight he probably would have passed out there on the grass if Wonwoo hadn’t dragged him back to his room to rest up. You, on the other hand, look as if you’ve only gone on an easy run. Jun walked you to your room expecting you to want to rest, but instead you’re laying on the bed with him looking rather awake. 

“Are you even tired?” He asks. 

You shrug. “About as tired as I am after our swims.”

Jun chuckles. “I suppose another power you wield is the inability to tire then.” 

You hum, pouting your lips. “Does it make you upset when I’m fighting?” 

“No. Should it?” 

“No, it’s just that” you hesitate, “there have been certain men who would take offense when I fought in the past. They found it improper.” Jun snorts, dismissing the notion entirely. You look amused at his response. 

He throws an arm over you. “Actually, it was nice seeing you struggle to win something for once.” 

You roll your eyes. “You should see the other guy.” 

“I did.” Jun says gravely. “And I’m afraid he won’t wake up after that fight.” 

You scoff. “He’ll be fine. Plus,” your voice turns serious, “I actually did struggle to win that fight.” 

Jun looks at you unamused. “Is that a joke?” 

You lift your head from the bed. “What?”  

“The fight didn’t even last five minutes. Hansol barely got in five good punches.” 

“Exactly,” you defend, “that’s the most I’ve struggled in a fight since the Holy Wars.” 

Jun drops his head back on the bed. “You’re unbelievable. I’m taking a nap now, goodnight.” 

You roll him off the bed. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Hansol all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Mark’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.  

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Soonyoung the night before he left?” 

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Soonyoung that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh. 

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember. 

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?” 

“Soonyoung told Seokmin and Seungkwan before he left. Seungkwan told me. We all had questions for you. But Seokmin was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Seungkwan weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?” 

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Soonyoung that night?”

You look at Jun. Then Wonwoo. Then Hansol; he nods. All three watch you carefully. 

“I told him that…” you gulp, picking at the table and then your shirt as well, “I told him one of the Seven Sins is still alive. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands because I think they’ll know how to find the Sin” 

Jun and Wonwoo look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel. 

Hansol starts laughing at the madness of it all. 

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Jeonghan, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Soonyoung.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jun, Hansol, and Wonwoo, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Soonyoung. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Soonyoung find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jun, Wonwoo, and Hansol have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings. 

“What is that?” 

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.” 

“No, no. It’s a drawing.” 

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.” 

The three boys share a look. 

“What do you mean you think?” 

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?” 

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Soonyoung.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Soonyoung will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky. 

Hansol shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jun. Weaker than after your fight with Hansol. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory. 

You fall to your knees, Jun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Wonwoo who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jun’s voice in your ear.

—LORD JUN—

Jun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Mina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jun. But last night was nothing like what Jun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jun tries to think of something else. 

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jun asks if you’re feeling any better. 

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed. 

Jun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Soonyoung?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away. 

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Soonyoung, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently. 

Dear Fortitude,  Firstly, I presume I should apologize for not answering any of your previous Risals. I had no good news to share. That is, until now. We’ve deciphered your code. We know exactly what to do now. I’m not sure how you knew this was what we needed to finish. Meet us at my castle. From there, we’ll go together. The end is near.  -Soonyoung

“What’s it say?” Jun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself. 

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.” 

“Jun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds. 

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.” 

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?” 

“I hate to say it, but you—“ 

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.” 

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Soonyoung’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Hansol’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Soonyoung castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea. 

This is what you want: to throw yourself off of Angel’s Peak like a sack of flour. You want to swim in the cold, freezing water. You want to swim away from the kingdom. From the King. From your worries. From your fears. You want to swim far far away to some remote, undiscovered island where you no longer have to be the Gift of Fortitude. And you want to do it all with Jun. 

But you pack your bags instead, send Soonyoung a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jun and Wonwoo that night. You and Hansol would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again.

—LORD JUN—

Jun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Hansol’s squadron and needing to catch up to you. 

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jun realize he’s crying. Hansol leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy. 

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.” 

“All the more reason not to, Jun.” 

He squeezes his arms around you. 

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely. 

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks. 

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—” 

“Tell me something to make me hate you.” 

“—I can’t.” 

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.” 

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other. 

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.” 

“I love you.” He repeats. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll go west. To where the mountains meet the sea. So that you’ll have an infinite number of cliffs to throw yourself off of.” You nod, laughing through the tears. Jun kisses you. Once. Twice. Again. And over. 

“I’ll come back, Jun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.” 

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.” 

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i present to you my heart and soul, if you actually read this whole thing wow good for you this fic is way too long for it’s own good but i ended up getting attatched to too many of the plotlines to take anything more out. fun fact, this was actually an original work that I took some stuff out of and converted into a fic. there’s definitely more to come in this story but idk if i’ll ever get around to actually writing it. I just want to share that I’ve been sitting on this wip/world for literally a year now, and if anyone remembers that random soonyoung drabble that i posted last year it’s the same world as this okay bye

#seventeen scenarios #jun scenarios #seventeen imagines #jun imagines #seventeen fanfic #jun fanfic #seventeen #wen junhui #seventeen fics #jun fics #jun fluff #jun angst #jun smut #mine #the sea is yours to take #the world of gifts and sins #lowqualityseventeen #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #fantasy #writers #romance #slow burn #angisccsw #svtcreations

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Little Prince (Pt.2)

-------------------------

"The mafia? Roman are you kidding me? Do you know how dangerous they are!" Remus was pacing the living room, his husband Virgil sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"They saved my life Rem! It's not like I'm hurt!" Roman pouted, he knew Remus wasnt going to take the fact that the lounge had been attacked well, but he'd at least thought he'd be happy Roman was safe.

"Roman they're the mafia! You cant trust a word they say or anything they do! They're just going to manipulate you and drag you into their messes!" Remus said, almost pleadingly.

"Just because you're a year older than me doesnt mean you know everything!" Roman said.

"I know that you cant keep putting yourself in danger for the sake of your reputation!" Remus said, there were tears in his eyes, Roman felt a twinge of guilt.

"Just. . . Stay away from them, for your own good," Remus said before walking back over to the couch and sitting next to Virgil. He held his arms out, seemingly to pull the smaller man into a hug, but Virgil seemed adamant about not changing positions. Roman sighed and walked back into his room, collapsing onto the bed and turning over to look at the ceiling. Logan's voice echoing in his head, he felt his cheeks heat up as the phrase Little Prince found it's way to the front of his thoughts. He'd never felt that way about being addressed as royalty before. It had always felt like a charade, a costume, like he wasnt really a monarch, but when Logan said it. . .

"Oh cut it out! Hes probably just like ever other man you've met, big sleazy and flirtatious, you're no prince. You're a fool." Roman glared at himself in the mirror and snarled the words, quietly enough that he hoped Remus wouldnt hear him.

He had more nightmares than ever that night, yet somehow they were never able to finish. At the last second a knight on a horse would charge at whatever Roman seemed to be afraid of, and the nightmare would end. He never saw the knight's face, but he remembered the crest on his horse's armor, a dove, with blue and red cloth in its mouth. Roman snatched his journal off of his nightstand, quickly sketching it down to save for later. He wasnt about to let a knight in shining armor slip out of his grasp, especially not now.

The real problem was waiting for him in the morning, The Butterfly Lounge had been shut down by who ever had attacked, which meant Roman had to find a new contract. He decided to meet up with his former boss to discuss the terms of his last, only to receive news that made his skin crawl.

"It says it right here in the fine print, in the event something happens to the lounge or you need to find new work, I chose your new place of employment," the grin on his ex-employer's face was akin to that of a crocodile about to take a bite out of an unsuspecting deer.

"But- that cant be legal! I mean- if I dont work for you anymore then that contract should no longer be valid!" Roman's hands were shaking, he grabbed onto the bottom of his chair in an attempt to steady them.

"Oh relax Roman, The Andromeda Quarter isnt that bad of a club, they'd love you there," the smile widened, Roman felt sick to his stomach.

"Y-yes sir," Roman said, he felt like throwing up as he walked out of the building.

The Andromeda Quarter was one of the most elite sections of the town, men in suites with women trailing behind them like lost dogs, prices so high it was a surprise that they didnt fly at this point. This was his parents favorite place before they moved, everyone there knew him, knew his talents and his family and had more expectations for him than the rest of the city. He had promised himself as a kid that he'd never live or work there as long as he could help it, but he supposed he'd have to add that to the long list of broken promise's hanging over his head like a cloud of acid rain.

Roman didnt talk to anyone when he got home, he merely changed into a pale red shirt with a crown on the top corner and a long white skirt, throwing a white jacket over the top of it before slipping on some heels. His feet ached with each move, but he tolerated it, he had to make a good impression.

As soon as he entered the building his nose was hit with the scent of all manner of alcoholic beverages, the aura of drunkenness carried throughout the whole bar.

It didnt get any better when he walked backstage. The man that greeted him had two barely dressed girls sitting on each side of his chair, his face was dressed with the same self-entitled smile ever member of the quarter wore.

"Roman, lovely to finally see you," he said, his voice dripping with feigned sweetness.

"Good afternoon," Roman said, setting himself down into a chair.

"Now, I suppose you already know who I am," said the man.

"Doyle Andromeda, great great grandson of the founder of the Andromeda Quarter," Roman said quietly.

"Good, and I of course know who you are, your voice is recognized throughout the country," Mr. Andromeda said, brushing back a lock of brown hair.

"Now, there is of course, the contract," he continued, pushing a piece of paper toward him. Roman scanned the paper, looking through every line for some chance of escape, finding nothing but paragraphs of descriptions on just how little of his voice mind and body was really going to be his. He bit back tears as he signed the paper, and swallowed the sobs rising in his throat as he left the meeting. His life was going to be over the next day, he just knew it.

A few blocks closer to home he ran into someone, instinctively throwing his hands up to block his face.

"Roman?. . ." Roman froze at the sound of Logan's voice. He felt his hands shaking as Logan took them in his own and lowered them, letting go to brush Roman's hair back and hold his face.

"I-I-" Roman was trying to will himself to run, to listen to his brother and get away before he got hurt again, but his heart was telling him to let Logan hold him, to melt into his touch until the rest of the world disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"Oh my poor little prince, you look so distressed, what went wrong? Do you need something to drink perhaps?" Roman let himself go numb in Logan's arms, tears spilling out of his eyes.

"I promised I wouldnt go back, I promised and a broke it and now I'm stuck and I dont know what they're going to do to me now that they have me," Logan's jacket smelled like lavender and fresh grass, Roman committed that to memory, he was going to buy air freshener with it later if he had to.

"Go back where? Dont cry dont cry, I'll protect you, I'll keep you safe little prince I promise you," Logan ran his fingers through Roman's hair as he cried, his voice full of worry.

"Th-the Andromeda Quarter, to many people know me there, to many people that dont care, that think I'm just a pretty voice and a pretty face with not a brain or a heart in my body," Roman said with a choked cry.

"Shshshsh- it's alright, it'll be alright, I'll fix this, I'll fix it," said Logan. He held Roman in his arms all the way back to Roman's house, knocking on the door twice.

Remus' face fell almost as soon as he opened it.

"Roman!" Roman let out a slight whine as he was pulled away from Logan, grasping at his hands in a desperate attempt to stay close.

"What did you do to him!" Remus said, there was a slight hint of fear in his eyes as he looked at Roman's small form curled up in the corner of the room.

"Please I didnt mean to intrude- i found him walking home- he looked upset," Logan said, all to calmly for someone facing a man who could make an axe murderer look sane.

"Why is he upset then?" Remus said, digging his nails into the doorframe.

"Hes been transferred to the Andromeda Quarter, and I'm going to fix it for him," Logan said, still unnaturally calm.

"He what." Remus rushed over to Roman's side, allowing Logan to slip into the house and stand next to them. Within seconds Roman was latched to his side, head buried in the crook of his neck.

"Roman how did this happen?" Logan held one hand up, wrapping the other around Roman's waist.

"Let's let him adjust to it, he's clearly distressed, if you'd like I can go out and get something to help him," Logan said. Remus looked at him for a few seconds before finally nodding.

"Anything that helps my brother,"

----------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@frog-candy-bee

@nerosdayinhell

@meowthefluffy

@melodiread

@thecolorfulolive

@boobmaster69

@spooky-scary-virgil

@youtuberswithalex

@rizzyluke

@croftersjam15

@faycanyons

@cemmy

@ethicc-allycomprised

#cori writes #mafia au #long post #ts remus #ts virgil #ts sides #ts logan #ts roman #logince #romantic logince #dukexiety #romantic dukexiety #tw crying #crying tw #tw violence #violence tw #tw alchohol mention #alchohol mention tw

[anthonyjlockwood]

lukebobby for #21 "you're not very intimidating"

tysm for the prompt, jay!! 💜 I spent way too long on this lol I’m sorry. you can find it on ao3 here! 

Bobby Wilson was not afraid of very many things.

In fact, he prided himself on being the most fearless member of Sunset Curve. He was the knight in shining armor, the one reckless enough to do anything the others deemed too dangerous— and that was saying something, considering he was best friends with Luke and Reggie. Alex, at least, had some sense of self-preservation.

Physical things rarely scared Bobby as much as emotional things. Feelings. Tears. Feelings and tears. Sadness, confusion-- anger, at least, he understood. He’d been all too acquainted with anger these past few months, because absolutely nothing on Earth pissed him off more than people messing with his friends. Luke’s fights with his parents had been getting more frequent. Alex had come out to his parents, and they wasted no opportunity to tell him what a “sinner” he was, and how he was “destined to burn.” It made Bobby see red. 

And then, there was Reggie’s parents. Mr. and Mrs. Peters were some of the worst offenders of the bunch, really. Because while the Pattersons and the Mercers had problems with who their sons were at their core-- which was horrible enough-- the Peterses just… didn’t care. They didn’t know who Reggie was, and they couldn’t be bothered to learn.  

In Bobby’s eyes, apathy was just as bad as hostility. 

So Bobby was no stranger to anger. But other emotions, less understandable ones, shook him to the core sometimes. Bobby didn’t really “do feelings.” Sure, he was a pretty good listener, but even when someone was complaining to him, he was always solution-focused.  

Someone more emotionally in-tune than he was would probably have a name for his incessant need to problem-solve, instead of just allowing people around him to be upset. Realizing that it was okay to be upset sometimes. 

But Bobby just… didn’t work like that. 

And, a brand new emotion had emerged recently, one that was far more confusing and frightening than any other.  An emotion that had accompanied some inner thoughts of his-- thoughts that he’d been skirting around for months, if not years. 

Bobby was in love with his best friend.

Or, at least, he thought he might be.  Bobby didn’t think he’d actually ever really been in love before. He took pride in the fact that he was reasonably attractive, and could get a date with pretty much anybody he wanted. But that’s as far as any relationship of his had ever gone-- just dating.  And the feelings he was experiencing now were… different, to say the least.  

Because Bobby didn’t just want to date Luke Patterson. He couldn’t explain what exactly, but… he wanted something more. 

And that shit was terrifying. 

He didn’t really know if Luke noticed that he’d sort of been avoiding him lately. He’d started using Alex and Reggie as a buffer so he wouldn’t have to be left alone with Luke for an extended period. Because, when he was alone with Luke, and the other boy did something totally offensive, like smile or laugh, Bobby just wanted to die. It sucked, honestly, wanting something you couldn’t have. Feeling emotions that you didn’t want; weren’t used to.

Emotions had always been far more frightening to Bobby than those more common physical fears. Heights. Flying. Darkness.

But, there was one thing Bobby would absolutely never do, under any circumstances, no matter how the planets aligned. One common physical fear that he would never deal with.

Bobby would never, ever, be the one to kill the spider.

And there was one, now, laughing at him from under the old, rickety sofa Luke had gotten cheap at someone’s yard sale. Bobby didn’t know what kind of spider it was, but it was big, and it existed, so that was all the information he needed, really.

But Bobby knew enough about fear to know one thing: never let the thing you’re scared of know that you’re scared. Knowing gave them power. And this spider had far too much power already. Since Bobby had seen it skittering across the floor nearly ten minutes ago, it had successfully managed to overtake the couch; Bobby had shot up like a rocket and scrambled up the ladder into the loft.

And he would not be coming down any time soon, thank you very much. 

This spider thought it was so scary, kicking Bobby off the sofa like that. Bobby would show it— just as soon as he mustered up the courage to climb back down the ladder.

Still, show no fear. That spider had to know who was in charge, here-- it would not be keeping Bobby Wilson up in that loft bed forever. 

“You’re not very intimidating, you know.”

He was talking to a spider. Before Bobby could process just how unhinged that was, a snicker from the doorway made him jump. Whipping his head up, towards the sound of the laughter, he saw Luke. Arms crossed, eyebrows raised, looking absolutely delighted to see Bobby in whatever predicament he’d gotten himself into. 

Luke surveyed the scene with a knowing smirk, and not a hint of sympathy. “What’chya doin’ up there, Bobby?” 

“Just-- just hanging out,” Bobby said nonchalantly. 

“In the loft?” 

“Yes. I… like it up here. I’m enjoying the view.”

“Ah, I see,” Luke nodded, as if Bobby’s words had confirmed some sort of unproven theory about the universe. 

Bobby was trying to act nonchalant, but-- the spider moved again. Bobby flinched automatically as it briefly emerged from under the sofa before disappearing again.

The only thing worse than seeing a spider, Bobby lamented, was losing sight of a spider. His eyes traced the floor near the couch frantically. 

Unfortunately, Luke had noticed his flinch, and his facial expression morphed into a smug grin. “Is… is the great Bobby Wilson afraid of something?”

“No!” Bobby shuffled further back in the loft bed, farther away from the door. 

“What is it?” Luke asked. “Is the studio haunted? Is there a zombie-vampire-ghost hiding under the couch, or something, waiting to claim you as its next victim?”

“There’s no such thing as a ‘zombie-vampire-ghost,” Bobby huffed. 

“Okay, so what—“  Luke was cut off by a loud shriek. Bobby dove behind a pillow on the loft bed, hugging it against his body and slinking further into the wall. 

Luke followed his friend’s gaze and saw the subject of his friend’s terror: a spider, standing by the leg of the sofa. 

“You’ve barricaded yourself up in the loft because of a bug?” Luke said gleefully. “Oh man— wait ‘til I tell Alex and Reggie about this one!” 

“You won’t be laughing when you see it move!”

“I’ve seen a spider move before, Bobby,” Luke snorted. “Not the horror movie material you think it is. I’m sure I’ll survive.” 

But… but then the spider did move, and it moved towards Luke. He got a better look at it, and he saw that it was probably about an inch and a half long, dark brown, and menacing-looking. 

Nope.

No.

Nooo thank you. 

With a shriek of his own, Luke scrambled up the loft ladder, too, the force of his body slamming into Bobby’s as he landed on the bed sending the whole structure shaking. “Dude, that thing is huge!”

“Yeah, looks a lot bigger and more threatening when it’s coming towards you, right?” Bobby snapped. “I’ll accept my apology in the form of you paying for the pizza delivery tonight.”

“What makes you think we’re gonna survive long enough to eat pizza later?” Luke asked incredulously. “That spider’s probably gonna have us for dinner first!”

“You’re being dramatic,” Bobby said. It was time to take the reins, here— he had to be the brave one. It was Spider Versus Bobby & Luke, now, and Bobby had to be captain of this team. Luke certainly wasn’t going to do it, useless as he was— now hugging the very same throw pillow that Bobby had abandoned, realizing that, as far as shields go, it was a fairly weak one. 

“Dude, don’t you watch those boring nature documentaries on the Discovery Channel?” Luke remembered. “That thing’s probably poisonous. Venomous. Whatever. It’s deadly.”

“So you just want to be stuck up in this loft for the rest of the freaking day?” Bobby asked. 

It wasn’t really the way Bobby would’ve preferred to spend his Saturday. Especially because the close proximity to someone he was trying not to have feelings for brought a tingling sensation to his cheeks and set his heart racing. He hoped Luke couldn’t hear it pounding away in his rib cage. 

Bobby had been doing a very good job at not thinking about Luke that way. But ever since Sunset Curve had gone to that stupid indoor skydiving place for Luke’s birthday— the only thing he’d really wanted to do, child that he was— and Bobby’s hand had brushed against Luke’s arm in the small air chamber, and Luke had grabbed Bobby’s hands in his own, lost in the thrill of adventure… Bobby had been thinking about it.

Thinking about how, with Luke, he felt alive. Alive in a way nobody else made him feel. Not Alex, not Reggie. Not any of the others he’d dated since. With Luke, Bobby felt like there could be something more. 

But, for the sake of their band and their friendship, Bobby had resolved to Not Think About It. He’d decided to take his feelings for Luke and bury them deep, and that meant keeping his distance. The exact opposite of… whatever the situation they were currently in was. 

Luke’s slightly panicked voice broke through Bobby’s thoughts. “What else are we supposed to do?!”

For as much as Bobby loved Luke— and was trying not to think about it— he recognized that the guy was truly terrible under pressure. Not for the first time, Bobby wished he’d encountered this spider with someone like Reggie. Alex, even, would be slightly preferable, because while he wouldn’t do anything to help, he also wouldn’t spike Bobby’s anxiety and make the situation worse. Alex, for all his anxiety about other things, didn’t really care about bugs.

But Reggie had this weird fascination with them. Bobby thought Reggie just wasn’t capable of hating anything. Reggie would probably pick the spider up with a napkin, or something, calm as you please, and start talking to it about his day or something.

Totally unbothered, totally friendly. Even to a spider.

Bobby was not friendly to spiders. This thing had to go, stat.

“We should throw something at it-- take off your shoe!” 

“My shoe? Gross! I don’t wanna get spider guts on my shoe,” Luke complained. 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Well, we need some sort of ammunition, here!” 

“Why don’t you use your shoe?” 

“Hell no,” Bobby said. “I just bought these!” 

“Okay. Okay. What about…” Luke grabbed one of the pillows off the bed and jettisoned it down towards the general direction of the spider. It bounced off the couch cushions and fell to the floor. 

“D’you think we got it?” 

Just then, as if it were mocking them, the spider crawled back out from under the couch towards Bobby’s guitar stand.  

“Oh no,” Bobby moaned. “It’s-- it’s going for my guitar. What if it touches it?”

“We’ll have to burn the guitar,” Luke said solemnly. 

“Those are expensive!” he protested. “Hey-- hey Itsy Bitsy Spider, go for Luke’s guitar instead! A little to the left…” 

“Where’re Alex and Reggie when you need them?” Luke complained. 

“Cute that you think Alex would help us out, here,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “He loves when shit like this happens to us. He’d be getting a kick out of it, for sure.” 

“Reggie would help us, though,” Luke sighed longingly for their best friend, bassist and bug-getter-ridofer extraordinaire. 

“If they don’t come for us, we might be stuck up here for the rest of the night,” Bobby commented. 

“They gotta come eventually,” Luke reasoned. “They know we have to practice for the gig this weekend.” 

“I hope it’s soon,” Bobby’s eyes followed the spider, aimlessly making its way along the perimeter of the couch. To his relief, his and Luke’s guitars had come out unscathed. 

-

An indeterminable amount of time later, deep into his staring match with Itsy Bitsy Spider, Bobby finally heard the garage door open.  Risking a glance away from the spider, he saw the other two, very late, very unbothered members of Sunset Curve stroll into the garage. 

“Hey, guys,” Alex greeted, Reggie on his heels. “Ready for-- what’s going on?” He caught sight of his two best friends, hugging each other atop the loft bed, and raised an eyebrow. 

“There’s a spider,” Luke whispered. 

“Ooh, where?” Reggie perked up. “I love spiders!”

“There, by the couch,” Bobby pulled away from Luke, pointing in what he hoped was the spider’s general direction. “Get rid of it.”  

Alex snorted. “I thought you guys were gonna work on that new chord progression Luke came up with-- you said you wanted to start rehearsal early.” 

“Yeah, well, something came up!” Luke snapped. 

“Okay,” the drummer said, smothering his laughter into his hoodie.

Reggie had grabbed an empty coffee mug off the table and was crouched by the sofa, searching for the spider. “I don’t see it anywhere…” 

“It’s there!” Luke argued. “And what are you doing? Don’t use my coffee mug!” 

“Baby,” Bobby smirked.  

Reggie finally located the spider  and was ushering it into the coffee mug.  “Got it!” 

“Thank God,” Bobby exclaimed. “Take it outside. Make sure it goes far, far away.” 

He watched as Reggie honored his request, carefully carrying the mug to the garage door and stepping outside. 

“What was your plan here, anyway?” Alex asked. “Stay up in the loft until Reggie got here to get rid of the spider for you?” 

“Yes!” Luke and Bobby said in unison.

Alex snorted again. “Luke, you literally live here. What happens when you see a bug and no one’s here with you?” 

“I… may or may not climb through Bobby’s bedroom window,” the guitarist said sheepishly. 

“You do?” the guitarist perked up. Luke snuck into his room sometimes? 

Bobby… didn’t hate that, actually. He wondered why Luke had never woken him up before-- whenever Bobby woke up in the mornings, his bed was always empty. Did Luke sleep on the floor? 

Before his mind could get lost in daydreams of snuggling up with Luke under the covers, because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it, Bobby shook the thoughts out of his head. 

“Yeah,” Luke mumbled, lifting a finger to his mouth and gnawing on his nail-- Bobby had told him so many times to give that habit up. But, nail biting was a nervous tick of Luke’s, and Bobby knew it.  

What did Luke have to be nervous about? Did he think Bobby would kick him out of his room, or something? That wasn’t true at all. Bobby would love for Luke to spend the night in his bed--

“Should we start practice?” His voice came out in a very weird, high-pitched squeak. It sounded like he’d just gotten finished sucking all the air out of a balloon. 

Alex smirked at him knowingly.  Avoiding his gaze, Bobby shot up off the couch just as Reggie returned with the empty coffee mug.  He tossed it in the sink and headed back over to the others, grabbing his bass and slinging it over his shoulder. “Bug’s gone,” he grinned. 

-

Once they were alone, Bobby nudged Luke’s knee with his own. “Hey.” 

Luke turned towards him. “Yeah?” 

“Um… next time you see a bug in here,” he started nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “You can wake me up. If-- if you come into my room, I mean. If you even want to come into my room. I dunno if you’ve been sleeping on the floor, or whatever, but that can’t be comfortable. So… so yeah. You can sleep with me-- not like that. I just mean, you can share my bed if you want. Or, if you don’t want, I can sleep on the floor. We can work something out. Just-- you can-- just wake me up next time, okay?” 

So quickly he would’ve missed it if he’d blinked, Luke pressed his lips to Bobby’s.

“Okay,” he said with a smile. 

That night, Luke kept his word. He saw another spider-- smaller in size, but greater in threat, because Bobby wasn’t there with him-- he did climb through Bobby’s window.  Bobby felt him shake his shoulder, and, mumbling incoherently, he shifted to the far side of the bed, so Luke could climb in next to him.

And that’s how Bobby found out that Luke was a blanket hog. 

#this is very much not what you asked for #but i hope you like it anyway lol #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #prompt fill #luke patterson #bobby wilson #lukebobby #lobby #where-you-go

[miss-tc-nova]

Hey - Riku x Reader

Aha, Xeha-non! I tricked you! I wasn’t writing Roxas, I was writing Riku! It’s about time I gave this boy some love. 

~~~~~

               “Hey handsome.” I slide the book from the desk and take its place, grinning down at the boy. A snowy brow arches in response, before those teal orbs peer up at me. “Slackin’ on your homework?”

               “Maybe,” he grumbles. I display the text and he continues scribbling down his answers.

               “Ooo, even I got the homework done. You’re not tellin’ me I’m about to slip ahead on our grades are you?” I tease.

               He doesn’t even bother to look up. “Not even close.”

               I laugh. Of course it’s not. This kid could miss an entire month of school and still manage to beat me in almost every class. Not that I’m dumb or anything, he’s just that smart—now if only I could get him to realize that I’ve been hardcore flirting with him for over a year now.

               Riku and I have been neighbors since we were little. We were never really friends and that was fine by me; we only occasionally passed by each other on our way to school or in the halls. It wasn’t until we turned fourteen and actually had a class together that I lost my mind. He probably just views me as a mild nuisance at this point, but I can’t help myself around him anymore. He doesn’t acknowledge any of it though.

               The end-of-day bell rings and I stand up with a stretch. “Wha’chu think, Riku? Shall we do the project together?”

               “Hm?” Like a needle pricking at my heart, he wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, I mean we can. But it just sounds like you’re trying to keep that gap between us from getting bigger.” Gods, if I could turn that smirk into something sincere, I’d probably die happy.

               “Please. You may have me in maths and science, but you suck at English.”

               “I’m one grade below you. Also, what does telling a story have do with any career?”

               I count on my fingers. “Journalism, news, authors, basic communication skills.”

               “We’re communicating aren’t we?”

               “Barely.” Oh honey, there’s so much more than what we say…

               His eyes roll but we agree to meet tonight at six to work on this story we’re supposed to write. I waste the day away mulling over this nonsense between us. Clearly this boy isn’t going to get the hint; I could probably kiss him and he would just blow it off as an accident. Yet I still can’t tell if it’s because he’s not interested or just strangely oblivious to flirting. Eventually, I admit defeat—I’m going to have to just flat out tell him. I decide it’d be best to do it tonight, when there’s time for us to talk it out; though that does put me at risk for making this project insanely awkward. I suck it up and plan my words out for the end of the night until six rolls around.

               I pull open the door to find my classmate there, staring out at the horizon. “Hey handsome.” There’s still time to drop plenty of hints before the night ends, but he doesn’t respond. “You okay?” There are some gloomy looking clouds in the distance.

               “Uh, yeah,” he replies, shaking it off. “Let’s get this dumb project done.”

               “And here I thought you just enjoyed my company,” I say, letting him in.

               We start to flesh out a basic a plot for this adventure short, all the while he keeps glancing out the window at the approaching storm. I, on the other hand, am starting to feel the nerves gnaw at my gut.

               “Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, pulling his attention from the window for the umpteenth time since we started.

               Looking away from his distraction, Riku scribbles on his paper. “Yeah.”

               He’s not going to tell me what’s bothering him. Perhaps it’s time to tell him what’s bothering me instead.

               “Hey Riku?” He hums that that he’s listening before meeting my gaze. This could be it: the end of my endeavors, the end of my shenanigans, possibly the end of a friendship. Here goes nothing.

               Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth to start again, but the storm lets us know that it’s here.

               When the lightning flashes, Riku abruptly stands. “I gotta go.”

               “What?” I stand with him but he heads for the door.

               “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” All those worries he’s been holding back all night have finally broken through. He hurriedly shoves his feet into his shoes.

               “But-” The boy rips the door open and takes off down the street, not even in the direction of his home. I stand in the doorway, stunned, confused, and a little heart-broken. “…Be safe.”

               The storm that night was terrible.

~~~~~

A year later…

               This last year or so has been kind of dreary. Since that storm hit, three kids disappeared from our islands. Days were spent searching, but only the ocean could’ve kept them hidden from us for so long. Then we came across a miracle; some weeks after their disappearance, Kairi had been found on the beach of the smaller island. From what I heard, she had been groggy and confused for a while, but remembered nothing of what happened. As for Sora and Riku, we never found them.

               I was upset for a long time but time heals all wounds supposedly. In reality, I’d just learned to think about it less and went about life. There wasn’t anything else I could’ve done. Even if my heart is still hung up on him, it’s not like I can bring him back. So, on the surface, I take my dreary days the same as my normal ones: one step at a time, no matter how hard the next step is.

               Nope. Don’t think about it.

               Clearing my head of memories I don’t have time to dwell on, I brush the hair from my eyes and readjust the bag of groceries in my arms. It’s Friday, school’s out, I’ve just done my shopping for the week, and now it’s time to go home and relax.

               “Hey.”

               My body freezes before I turn to person I just passed. He’s a tall, young man, his muscular arms bare. The first instinct is to put some space between us, but that mop of white hair is unmistakable; sure it’s longer than it was but it’s his.

               “Riku?” I breathe, afraid to believe it is. Have I finally lost it?

               His aqua eyes are just visible beneath that mess. “It’s been a while,” he tells me.

               That voice; it’s the same and it still makes my heart flutter. The bag in my arm is hastily set aside before I barrel into the boy, arms around his waist as tightly as I can hold. I could melt when he returns the gesture but I’m too busy trying to keep from crying.

               I step back, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry. I just…Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

               He’s taking the fact pretty lightly. “I can imagine so.”

               “What happened?” I murmur.

               “Uh, I can’t exactly explain it,” he answers, dodging my question. Something about him seems softer than before. “The storm took me someplace far away and a lot of stuff happened. But I’m here now.”

               Taking in his words, I want to question him. There was a whole year where I thought he was at the bottom of the ocean; of course I want to know everything. However, above all of that, I’m relieved he’s back.

               I smile. “Well hey, welcome back handsome.”

               Riku’s responding chuckle dies out to something hesitant. “Are you busy tonight?”

               Reaching down, I scoop my groceries back up. “No. Just making dinner and being lazy tonight.”

               “Do you want to hang out?”

               It takes everything I have to not scream ‘Yes!’ at him. “Didn’t you just get back?”

               “Yeah,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But Kairi spent a few long hours nagging me about being so oblivious.”

               “What?”

               His shoulders bounce but I don’t miss that old spark of mischief. “That whole year before I left, you were flirting with me.”

               It’s suddenly a bit too hot for me and my brain threatens to malfunction. Instead, I take my turn to answer sheepishly, “I mean, yeah. But I think you settling in again is probably more important.”

               “It can wait. I’ve got a lot of stupidity to make up for.”

               I may never stop smiling again. “Only two years worth.”

               “Then I’d better get started.” I could just squeal. “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

               “I’ll see you then.”

               I bid the boy goodbye and it takes everything I have not to explode before I’m sure he’s well out of sight. And that’s it; my brain is shot for the rest of the day. I’m not doing homework, none of my chores get done, and dinner is nothing that I had planned. I just lie around, giddy as a teenager should be.

               I force myself not to bolt for the door when I hear a knock; I cannot, however, help the swelling happiness in my chest when I see him waiting for me.

               “Hey handsome,” I greet. That’s an adorable blush trying to spread across his face.

               “Hey. Are you ready?”

               I tilt my head. “We’re going out? Isn’t it kinda late?”

               “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the monsters.” There’s a bit of the old self-confidence I remember him having.

               “Oh my knight in shining armor.” I follow Riku to the docks and I should’ve known he’d be taking me to the smaller island; it was his favorite place to hang out. But I’ve never been there at night so this will be a new experience for me.

               After he’s tied up the little boat, he offers a hand to me. “Careful.”

               “You’ve become quite the gentleman,” I tease, taking his hand.

               My joking goes right out the window when he pulls me up with absolutely no effort. “I think not wanting my date to hurt themself is just common courtesy.”

               “Fair enough.” I pray he doesn’t catch the mild quaver in the two words. “So what exactly are we doing out here?”

               “Whatever you want; just hanging out,” he says, walking out onto the moonlit beach. With a grunt, he plops down into the soft, white sand. With a bit more grace, I sit beside him.

               The ocean before us is dazzling. The water is calm, gently lapping at the land and reflecting the light from above. An endless sky is filled with millions of twinkling stars painting shades of blue and purple around the shining moon. There are no birds or strangers to interrupt the white-noise of the water; just us. And we’re not exactly quiet. We talk and laugh and joke about all sorts of things. I get vague hints that Riku’s time away had been quite an ordeal but we skirt around those topics. Still, I feel like I’m finally connecting to him; I’m not hiding anything or hinting at hidden feelings. I’m able to fully express myself. And though he may not be as snarky as he had been, I’m still enamored all the same.

               “It’s funny.” Riku says, looking up to the stars. “I wanted nothing more than to get off this island, but when I found out about you, I couldn’t wait to get back.

               Thank goodness it’s dark. “That’s kind of a silly reason to suddenly change your dreams.”

               “Not after the adventure I’ve had.” I don’t get a chance to dwell on the darkness in his words. Instead, my heart jumps into my throat when his hand sits on top of mind with a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I think you’re discounting yourself way too much. You’re worth changing dreams for.”

               What the hell do I say to that?! I sigh. “I know I was flirting with you but that doesn’t mean you have to do this. You don’t owe me anything. If you want, we can just-”

               My words are effectively silenced. It’s not smooth or gentle but Riku jams our lips together. I never would use the word awkward to describe him but this is terribly so. I still don’t hate it.

               I don’t know if it’s my own blush or the heat rolling off him, but the air between us is hot. When he breaks away, there’s that smile—I can die happy now.

               “If you end that sentence with ‘be friends,’ I’m going to throw you in the ocean,” he warns, a note of longing there.

               The astonishment in me takes a dive, succeeded by desire. Pulling myself up by his jacket, I swing a leg over Riku’s. My hands weave into his hair, pushing the locks from his face, revealing those beautiful teal eyes. Without another moment’s hesitation, I take a second kiss.

               First kisses are overrated. They’re awkward and never certain of both people’s feelings. But second kisses; with the confidence, understanding, and trust; those are the moments of passion that melt hearts. I am no exception. My insides are filled with thousands of butterflies but I can’t get enough—I will never get enough. I could live in this moment forever: just the two of us in this beautiful scene with our new-found love. I would’ve been gone only a moment too soon had I died earlier.

               Lips part, gasping for air. My eyes rapidly scan his face, trying to commit this moment to memory. Then the wave of euphoria washes over me and I let out a breathy laugh.

               “Fine. We’re not friends.”

~~~~~

Months Later…

               I trail through the sand, water lapping at my feet, birds cawing overhead, sun raining warmth on this quiet, little, lonely island.

               It’s been several months and it sucks. I got warning this time that he was going, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about his absence. The way he talked about it was like I may never see him again and he wouldn’t even give me any details. It was just ‘I gotta go’ and ‘I don’t know if I’ll come back,’ then he kissed me and disappeared; left me crying on the beach by myself. Even Sora and eventually Kairi disappeared too, but no, I get left behind. I’ve been flipping between anger and depression so much sometimes I just cry while I break things. Maybe it was ridiculous for me to think we’d always be together, maybe it would’ve been easier if he just said he was sick of me, but the fact that we were still so infatuated when he left makes this all the more miserable. I had less than a year to fall head-over-heels in love with him and, boy, did he leave his mark.

               Today’s one of those low days, where I miss him so much it almost hurts. So I’m on the little island, hoping for distractions; I’d even take memories of our little moments here—anything to dull the pain.

               Another round of sorrow creeps up on me and I take a moment to attempt clearing my vision.

               “Hey gorgeous.”

               My heart shudders so forcefully everything goes black and my ears ring. It clears quickly enough that I whirl around. He’s there, gasping like he ran a marathon to get here. I can’t believe it; also, I can’t take it. I take a running leap at Riku who falls on his ass to catch me.

               Sobbing into his shoulder, I manage to get out, “You’re not allowed to leave me again. I swear to the gods that I will tie you down if I have to.”

               Hugging me with his entire body, Riku answers, “I have so much to tell you.”

#riku #kh riku #riku x reader #xeha-non #novas requests #gender neutral reader

[404fmdminjung]

famed idol life / career meme

notes: i started doing responses one by one, but then i thought it’d be better to do one big mass-post instead of flooding dash all at once. thank you to all that sent in! appreciate u all :~) (if anyone has any numbers they need, please feel free to like this or just let me know, even if i already sent in an ask!)

2. what are your favorite b-sides/non-title tracks you’ve released?

“i like diana. there’s something moody, sultry about it with a touch of elegance. it’s almost like cheap wine on a long friday — contrasting, but it somehow fits. plus, sooah helped out on that track which becomes the cherry icing on top. perhaps, there’s something better coming out on my next album, where there’s too many b-sides that i’d cherry pick myself to be my favorite. for that, look out at the sea, captain.”

3. what is your least favorite song (title track or b-side) you’ve released?

“i don’t think there’s a least favorite. if there were, then i wouldn’t have partook in any of it — my personality’s in it or out of it. there’s no in between, especially where my voice plays a part. i don’t want to touch things where my heart doesn’t lie, that’d just be cruel. wouldn’t it? if it doesn’t relieve my soul a bit, then i don’t think i’d dip my toes in those waters.”

6. what is one thing (a concept, a genre, an outfit, etc.) you would least like your company make you do?

“i’d like to do house funk, maybe house-pop. you’ve seen elements in it in knight’s old releases, and even the oldies like decipher’s done it. unity’s dabbled in it somewhat in their b-sides, and considering fuse has amassed a long bridge of different concepts — the spectrum’s large. i’d like to wear hawaiian t-shirts and prance around to some summer house-funk, and that’s something i think the general public can all dance around in their rooms to.”

8. if you could be in any idol group, which one would you choose?

“i’ve grown accustomed to fuse — i like being in fuse. i don’t think i’d fit anywhere else, though i would say bee would be a nice change for the summer fun. i’d even enjoy myself to be in unity had i been a boy. can you imagine? the fun that would come out of belting welcome to my playground, and singing the tunes to touch. that’d be a girl’s dream come true.”

9. if you could say one thing to your ceo, what would it be?

“you’re the prettiest person i’ve ever seen. in the whole country, out of all the women in the world — you’re the standard of beauty. but i’m sure the whole world knows that by now, don’t they? i thank you for giving fuse some of the best songs, and though i’ve never met you face by face, i’d like to believe you’re better than what’s shown from face value. but, still — my wannabe face is you but no amount of plastic surgery would turn me into you, would it?”

10. if you were auditioning for your company today, what would you perform for your audition, or what would you change from your original audition?

“i don’t think i’d repeat the dance, nor attempt to dance to something like seo taeji and boys. if i recall, i did h.o.t’s we are the future, and snsd’s kissing you with a ruler i had in my back pocket. in retrospect, that was my standard of dancing — if only i’d known it’d become a bad memory to highlight the work i have left. maybe, i’d only stick to kissing you, ruler version while singing something more melodically acceptable than finkl’s now.”

11. if you could do any special stage, what would it be and who would it be with?

“i don’t know — i don’t know many things when it comes to these mix and match scenarios. i know i’d like to make a stage where i can dance freely as if i’m in the comfort of my own home. perhaps to a song like gee, or even oh — even willing to dabble in lipstick’s genie if it means dressing up like a sailor and going ahoy. i’d want to do the stage with jeonghwa, sooah, and well — i don’t have that many friends to give you a special stage, oops.”

13. if you could become a model or ambassador for any brand, what would you choose?

”again, i’ve been blessed and satiated with each and every opportunity given. working with dior has been a smooth sailing ride as well as cartier — perhaps, given the option i wouldn’t opt for pathere de cartier but a different line. still, nothing really takes away from the heart and soul of their jewelry, which i appreciate with my cup of tea. i’d continue to work with dior, and if hermes would ever take the punch — i’d even have an affair with them.”

14. if you could be on any variety show, which one (or which type of one) would you want to be on?

“knowing brothers — i really watch that show. or even, 전지적 참견 시점 — those are the shows i keep tabs of on a weekly basis. i'd love my manager to have her time to shine and steal the hearts of the world with her variety work. she’s a very funny person you know. as for knowing brothers? that’s a given knowing how quick the crowd is on their feet and the little mini-games that come from each episode. i hurt my stomach each time from laughing along so many times.”

16. what changes would you implement if you were the ceo of your company?

“a free-for-all. i’ve never wanted to become a ceo, but had i been granted the opportunity to rule on all floors, i’d implement a few things. mandatory art classes, and creative freedom to the album jackets for all my artists. no dating-bans, let it all air out — most of all, i’d let them do as they wished as long has it harmed nobody else and they could handle the aftermath. no restrictions, roam free, bunnies.”

17. what do you do to relieve the stress of idol life?

“call me pretentious or call me a sell-out, i do what any other normal person does. i like sitting in the cafes with my notebook out, sketching. i sketch people that come in and out, or the people that decide to sit next to me. if i’m home, i’m painting on canvas with my record player crooning in the background or knitting a sweater to wear next winter. on a really adventurous day, you’ll see me playing the pole or stretching my limbs at pilates. but that’s on a non-lazy day.”

18. what tips would you give to a trainee about to debut?

“wear your skin like armor, and let it thicken as time goes on. no need to get hurt by words, and instead roll with the punches — learn to accept the hate that comes, and be scrutinized underneath a microscope. sometimes, you don’t know if it’s really reality, but the faster you assimilate yourself, the quicker you learn to glide past your career. think of everything as a catch-22, only there’s no real safety net.”

19. what was the hardest part of being a trainee?

“getting along with the other people and have them stay away from getting to know me. it’s obvious, the trainee life is temporary — there’s going to be those that debut and those that don’t, so why pry further than you have to? everyone should’ve been given the basic privacy instead of trying to play formalities and get along. other than that, i hated dance practice and i still do. dance isn’t a strong suit, and having someone force me to follow a tempo i can’t march to was no fun at all.”

20. did you enjoy the lifestyle of a trainee or of a debuted idol more?

“i liked being a debuted idol far better, only because there was a layer of privacy given to me. ironically, i was suddenly in the public eye. yet, it still allowed some layer of anonymity within the inner circle and the day to day people i interacted with. starting from a sea of trainees, and having it dwindle to a group of my members — it all made it easier to handle in the end. besides, i was getting no sleep regardless trainee or not.”

22. describe your dream sub-unit (members and concept).

“take the fuse darker concepts — peekaboo, bad boy, psycho. and merge it into one, all while getting rid of the dresses too short to dress in. wrap it all together, and you get my favorite concept. i like mystery, and latent meanings behind pretty tunes, and being able to do that each comeback would be a dream. surely, the audience might get bored of it, but i wouldn’t and i’m allowed to be selfish, aren’t i? my dream sub-unit, i’d take sooah. without sooah, i don’t know what i’d do, really. she’s like a mini-mom, three years younger. then, i’d take kiana for the dance that sooah and i can’t handle. i suppose i’d add suji in there because i don’t think anyone can belt like she does, no offense to kiana. but there’s a heartier belt when suji does it. sorry to our leader, i guess.”

23. out of the following six options, would you rather be allowed to play a major hand in the lyrics, production, choreography, styling, music videos, or concepts you release?

“i started off in lyrics, so i’ll stay loyal till the end. i’ll keep to the lyrics, so i can continue to write the stories my heart wants to say. sometimes, i’ll fall into cliches, but that’s okay. if it’s not in music production or the general content of the song, i suppose i’d take a dabble in styling — and stop dressing myself in the short skirts making it impossible to dance. really, those are the only two things i’ll be selfish for.”

25. what is your least favorite part of being an idol?

“waking up early, not having enough time to draw — those would just be the superficial things, right? but really, there’s pros and cons to any jobs, just ask any office worker with a nine to five. however, if i’m given a sliver of honesty to wave my grievances, i’d like to mention that i don’t like working in short skirts that get shorter each comeback. i don’t like getting mauled by the public of who i make eye contact with or who i work with — i don’t like getting over criticized and the list goes on.”

26. what is your favorite part of being an idol?

“i’ve always been a story teller. i like crafting stories and telling my world for how i see it, and given this opportunity in music, i’m able to do so. i like playing with instruments, sketching out things for an album idea — the creative process while meeting new people along the way. it’s a journey, an adventure and most of all, it avoids stagnation. i’m on the move, go go go.”

27. would you rather be incredibly famous with a terrible reputation and hated by most or be fairly unknown with a good reputation and adored by those who know of you? why?

“i’m already disliked by most — they don’t like the way i dress, who i’m friends with or the manner in which i present myself. but i’m given the opportunity to ignore these things along the way, and learn to handle things bit by bit. given the choice, i’d rather hide in anonymity with the few around me enjoying my presence. i’ve learned by now, public opinion doesn’t correlate to much as it’s nothing more than a crow perched far away as poe would say.”

29. what have you learned about yourself and/or society since becoming a celebrity?

“i’ve only been taught life skills, such as time management and patience. in hindsight, i’ve learned how cruel people are to judge things from what they see at surface level. the world’s superficial — that’s a bitter pill to swallow. i don’t know much about myself as i haven’t gotten that part figured out. instead, i’ve just learned that the world is cruel and the people in it amount to little to no positivity — go figure.”

#fmdmeme001 #fmdyiyeon #fmdmaverick #fmdjaein #fmdkiana #jihoonfmd #jihaefmd #thank you all again for asking! #(큐뀨↻queue)

[domesticated-feral]

What a night. | Sterek One Shot written by me.

Squicks/Triggers: Injury and Blood, Homophobia

Read it on AO3

New York, February 28th of 1968.

It was Saturday, Stiles was on his way to a gay bar, he wore a skirt, flashy eyeshadow, and lipstick with his slightly wavy hair curled and tousled up. He reaches the gay bar that he frequented with a brisk ten-minute walk, the bouncer opens the door and he struts in.

Inside, music was playing, drinks were being served and Stiles spotted very handsome men he’d fancy.

He goes up to the bar and orders tequila shots, he drinks them up and goes to the dance floor. Dancing to the hottest songs coming from the radio, Stiles was joined by a man, they danced together until Stiles needed more drinks.

He sits down at the bar once again, using a tissue to dab sweat away, being careful to not smear his makeup which he spent a lot of time on. He drinks more shots and then orders an old fashioned cocktail.

He sits down at the seating and listens to the music as he sips on the cocktail. It was maybe twelve or one in the middle of the night now. He didn’t wear his watch, and even though it clashes with his outfit, he regrets that he didn’t.

Suddenly, he hears banging on the bar’s door.

“Police, open up!”

Stiles’ heartbeat rose up, he quickly stood up from his seat and went to the usual escape route he’d take from a back door. The police had barricaded it, they were trapped.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’ Stiles internally panicked, his breath quick and shallow as the police came in.

A police officer came and tried to hold Stiles, he immediately moved away, it was the same officer from last time, the same man who frisked Stiles way too much. He had enough of these raids happening, it wasn’t like they were disturbing anyone.

Before Stiles could think his next move through, another police officer comes from behind and holds him. Stiles elbows him in the side of the rib and they stumble backward.

‘Oh no, what did I just now do?’ Stiles gasps, realizing what was going to happen next.

The other officer, the one who Stiles feared tackles him to the ground and starts hitting him with a baton. Someone throws a beer bottle towards the wall and it shatters, sending pieces of glass at Stiles and the police officer.

He felt pieces of glass pierce his head and neck as he stood up. He needs to flee the place before all hell breaks loose. He is able to run out of the bar and begins walking back home. His back hurt after some time so he sat down on a bench to recuperate before walking the rest of the way home. Something cold trickles down the back of his ear and he touches it with his fingers. He looks at his fingers to find blood smeared at the tips.

‘Damn it, someone just had to throw a beer bottle huh?’

Someone comes up and places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, making him jerk a little. Stiles looks up from his blood-smeared fingers and notices the clothing the man was wearing all dark, black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Are you alright?”

“Well, except for the pieces of glass in my head and my back bruised up by being beaten with a baton, I’m just peachy,” Stiles looks up at the mysterious man who had approached him.

He looked intimidating, the essence of a bike rider with the slight scruff, the lean but muscular build, and the gorgeous hazel green eyes that glinted under the yellow streetlight.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Thanks, I haven’t noticed,” Stiles sarcastically said, slowly standing back up.

“You need medical attention, and my house is right there,” Derek points to a house that was two houses away, “my sister’s a nurse in practice. She can help you.”

“Thanks, but how do I know that you’re not one of those homophobes who’s gonna take me to your dingy house’s basement to torture and kill, then later end up in a ditch covered in trash bags?”

“Because I’m not?”

Stiles’ mind was going off with deja vu at this random stranger, he was intimidating but Stiles felt like he’d seen him from somewhere before. Somewhere meaning the gay bar he was just at.

“Have you ever went to the gay bar before?”

“I work there. I was out for a smoke break out back when the police raid happened. I sorta fled the area, till I saw you sitting here.”

“Like a damsel in distress? Oh please, you can’t be my knight in shining armor when you run away like a cunt back there.”

“You escaped too.”

“After getting tackled, beaten, and pierced by pieces of broken glass,” Stiles let out a whimper at the pain panging through from his back as he moved slightly.

“You’re hurt and I want to help you. Especially because I know you won’t be going to the hospital tonight.”

“Hey, how could you assume that?”

“Because you sure as hell won’t.”

Stiles sighs, he needed medical attention before he bleeds out, and this guy seemed pretty genuine to help, “fine, let’s go to your nurse sister.”

Derek walks with Stiles to his house and he unlocks the door.

“Laura, get your first-aid kit.”

“Raid at the bar again? What happened this time, Derek? Was it harsh?”

“Not me, I brought someone, they need help.”

“I’m, um, Stiles by the way,” Stiles mutters to Derek.

Laura comes down from the staircase holding a red bag with a white cross on it. Derek gestures to Stiles to sit down on a chair backward. Stiles rests his arm on the top of the backrest and tries to ignore the ticklish and cold sensation of blood trickling down his neck and side of the face.

Laura puts the first aid kit on the coffee table and looks at Stiles’ scalp, noticing the blood and pieces of glass. She also notices red blotches on Stiles’ neck, fresh bruises she guesses.

“There’s a lot of glass in the scalp and cuts, um, it’ll be hard to treat the cuts with, y’know,” Laura faltered.

“With all my hair in the way, I sorta had the feeling that it would, well, I guess I could rock a buzzcut.”

“So, you’re fine with me needing to cut your hair so I can take a look at the cuts caused by the glass shrapnel?”

“Yeah, completely fine, just get it done quick. I’d like to sleep the night away as soon as I can.”

“Ok, um, Derek, could you get me the scissors and go tell Cora she has to sleep, it’s late and she's still awake.”

Derek nods and Stiles watches him go up the spiral staircase to the loft above.

“Are you able to take the shirt off or does it hurt to lift your shoulders up?”

“I think I can take my shirt off, I’ve dealt with bruises more than this,” Stiles slowly slides his shirt above his head, being careful not to move any pieces of glass in his hair.

He takes it off and holds it in his hands, Laura gets up and Stiles assumes she went to get ice. Laura walks back into the living room and she places a bag of ice wrapped in a towel on his back which was red with new bruises scattered everywhere from the top to bottom.

Derek climbs back down, a scissor in his hand and a teenage girl hopped down the stairs behind him.

"I thought I told you to tell Cora to sleep, not bring her down with you."

"But I'm not sleepy," Cora whined.

Derek puts the scissor down on the coffee table and Cora flops down on the couch.

"What do I have to do to make you go to sleep?"

"Hot chocolate."

"Fine, Derek, apply the ice on his back while I go make Cora her hot chocolate."

Derek nods again, he isn't a man of words, Stiles thinks. Derek holds onto the bag of ice and continues icing Stiles’ back.

“Soo, do you just to bartending at the gay bar or?”

“I have a day job as a mechanic at George’s Auto garage in Lower Manhattan.”

“So you like cars, huh?”

“Not really, but I’m pretty interested in fixing them. I don’t own one though, yet.”

“I don’t own a car either, you don’t really need one if the work commute is a ten-minute ride in the sub.”

“What do you work as?”

“A fraud analyst at an insurance company.”

“Hmm,” Derek hums, he moves the pack of ice down to ice the bruises on Stiles’ lower back.

Laura walks back in a while later, Cora trailing behind her with a big mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Cora sits back down on the couch and Derek hands the ice pack to her. It was slowly melting and Laura put it down on the coffee table.

“Damn, stranger’s got some hot core body temperature if the ice pack’s that melted,” Cora remarks.

Stiles hears Laura sigh from behind him at Cora. He feels Laura beginning to take out the bigger shards of glass from his head, she slowly takes them out and places them on the coffee table.

“Well, I think that’s all of the big ones, now to find the tiny pieces.”

Laura slowly looks through and picks out the small pieces with a pair of tweezers. Most of the cuts were on the back and top of Stiles’ head, one looked like it had to be stitched up.

“One of the cuts is deep, I’ll need to stitch that up.”

Stiles hums, he was exhausted and was in a can’t-give-a-fuck type of mood. Laura uses the scissors and snips the locks around the cuts, rubbing each cut with a cloth dabbed in disinfectant. She gets around to the big cut where she uses a sterilized needle and thread to stitch it up. The back and top of Stiles’ head now had patches of short fuzzy hair amongst the long waves he had.

“I'm sure I look like I escaped a circus now," Stiles said, running a hand through his uneven hair.

"Not if we don't fix it up,” Laura said.

Stiles turns his head to look at Laura from the corner of his eye, Derek was standing with his arms crossed, he was looking at Laura too. Stiles knew what Laura was suggesting.

“First of all, it’s usually me or the same hairdresser who cuts my hair, and second of all, I don’t trust anyone else with it unless they are a hairdresser.”

“How do you think I pay for my college degree?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows in satisfied surprise, “ok, have at it, I guess,” he said as he turned his head back to face front.

Laura leaves the room and Cora loudly sips on her hot chocolate to gain Stiles’ attention.

“Wait until you meet uncle Peter,” she said, leaning forward.

“Uncle who?”

“Peter wherever-the-hell-he-is Hale, our uncle.”

Stiles nods, “that middle name alone is interesting in and of itself.”

“He literally will pop in out of the blue here and will either stay for 2 hours or 2 months, there’s no in-between, and then he leaves just as he came with no explanation.”

“That’s not always true, he sometimes calls up when I’m home,” Derek interjects.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re his least-disliked nephew.”

“I think the word you’re finding is favorite?” Stiles asks.

“Nope, he describes it like that, he has no favorites, only dislikes varying from most to least.”

“Derek, no offense, but your family is a Hale-of-a-lot.”

Stiles looks over at Derek who was hiding a smile, “I can’t lie, that wasn’t not funny.”

“And that’s another one of those reasons why I’m eligible to become a clown in the circus.”

“Well, you sorta tick all ‘em boxes. Flashy makeup and clothes, weird-ass hair, funny, lowkey mutual pining between you and my brother, it’s the full package,” Cora said, setting the empty cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table.

“I am Not pining for your brother,” Stiles whips his head at Cora, ‘but was that true?’ he asked himself.

“Look, stranger, from the few minutes I have sat here, I can firmly say that my brother is pining for you. He literally never brings an adorable brown-eyed puppy like you home unless he has a little crush.”

“I do not have a crush on Stiles,” Derek said, Stiles could see through his lies and couldn’t help but giggle.

“Damn, way to break a guy’s heart, Derek,” Stiles shook his head.

“You’re a horrible liar, Derek.” Laura chimed in as she entered the room, “it’s so easy to tell when you are.”

“How could you say so?”

“You avoid using conjunction words, and your voice becomes shriller than it already is and you lose your calm and composure.”

Derek was dumbstruck, “god damn it, I’m going to get a glass of water.”

Cora coughs, “I think you meant beer. Anyhoo, thanks for the hot chocolate sis, I’m heading to bed as the agreement requires me to.”

Derek turns around to face Cora who smirks at him while he glares at her one more time before heading into the kitchen. She skips upstairs and Stiles was alone with Laura.

“Is every night like this?” Stiles asked Laura.

“Yep, all night, every night.”

“I’d lose my fucking mind if I were you.”

“Nah, the roles rotate every so often, so I’m not the tired older sibling at all times.”

“But still, I can’t imagine a life with siblings.”

“Only child?”

“Yeah,” Stiles played with the hem of his shirt, “my mom died when I was 9, she was sick long before that and she also had trouble getting pregnant. It’s a miracle I was born.”

Laura keeps quiet, as she trims Stiles’ hair.

“Yet here I am, gay and self-deprecative as fuck, which is the opposite of a miracle child.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being gay,” Laura adds.

“Society begs to differ.”

Laura hums, her hum barely heard as she turned the electric trimmer on. Derek walks in with a can of beer, he stops under the kitchen door frame, leaning against it as he watches and sips on his beer.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek, his smile growing lopsided. Derek looks away, disappearing back into the kitchen. Stiles could see a glimpse of him as he glanced out the kitchen window.

She turns the electric trimmer off and uses the towel which was previously covering a bag of ice to clean off the hairs on Stiles’ neck and shoulder.

“Well, you’ll need to pop back in here after 10 days to get those stitches out, it’ll be better than going to the hospital and getting charged about a thousand to get five measly stitches out.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver, Laura.”

“It’s what I do, Stiles,” she takes a broom that was leaning next to the cupboard on the wall and begins cleaning up the mess.

“Now once you go home, in the morning, ice the shit out of your back, no hot showers in the meantime and just keep on icing it and rest. Oh and stitches, keep it dry for the next 48 hours and no baths, showers only till you get them out.”

“Will do.” Stiles stands up and wears his shirt. He rakes his fingers through his freshly shorn hair as he looks at his reflection on a mirror hung up on the wall.

His makeup was smeared though, looking like he paid a three-year-old to do it. He looks around trying to find something he could wipe his makeup off with.

“Here, I believe you’re looking for this,” Derek approached Stiles from behind and handed him a packet of wet tissues.

“Thanks,” Stiles takes one out of the packet and wipes his makeup off.

It wasn’t going to totally rub off, he needs makeup remover for that but it was muted enough that no one would notice in the middle of the night.

“The buzz cut suits you,” he compliments.

“Well, it’s majorly different from what I looked like 20 minutes ago, but I like it,” Stiles ran a hand through it again, it was that satisfying to do.

“I’ll walk with you, to your house,” Derek said, not really giving any space for Stiles to speak his opinion, not that Stiles was objecting to it.

“Ok, my knight in a leather jacket.”

Derek rolls his eyes and Stiles puts the used tissue in the dustbin and they walk to the front door.

“Bye, Laura, thanks again, but I can never thank you enough.”

“Goodnight, Stiles, and you’re welcome,” she waves.

Derek walks out and Stiles follows him. The walk home was silent, the roads were silent and empty, and Stiles felt Derek’s hand brush against his as they walked. The small, seemingly insignificant touch, his heart fluttered and he couldn’t help but crave for more. Derek and Stiles stopped at an intersection, the light was green and late-night buses were passing the road. Stiles felt Derek slowly hold his hand.

Stiles doesn’t stop and actually accepts his hold, softly holding his hand in return. Stiles looks at Derek who was looking forward, his lips curled to a small smile.

The light was still green but nothing was passing the roads, Stiles holding Derek’s hand pulled him as Stiles began to walk on the crosswalk.

“The light isn’t red yet!”

“Do you see any vehicles coming?” Stiles stops in the middle of the empty road, his skirt twisting around even though he stood in place.

Derek looks side to side before looking at Stiles, “I just don’t like taking chances,” he said as he joined Stiles and walked across the road.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you,” Stiles held Derek’s hand firmly as they walked.

Stiles slows down as they approach his apartment building, he goes in the building and Derek follows him up to the second floor.

“Well, this is my apartment, small and quaint, but it’s alright.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Night, Derek.”

Stiles and Derek lingered in the hallway for a moment, Stiles wasn’t sure of what he was feeling or what he wanted to do. That was until Derek made a move, leaning forward and kissing Stiles passionately. Stiles was taken aback by how quickly Derek leaped in, but he himself was quick to reciprocate by slowly closing his eyes and kissing back. Lips fought, teeth clashed and lips moved in sync.

Stiles never wanted the kiss to end but, all good moments come to an end. Derek looked down on the floor, he was clearly ashamed.

“Derek, if it’s alright with you, maybe we could have brunch together at this new seafood bar that opened near the coast?”

“Sure, I’d like to go out with you,” he looked back up at Stiles.

“Ok, how about next Saturday, I’ll pop into your house at 11?”

“Yeah, I’ll be waiting.”

Stiles smiles as he unlocks his house door waiting under the doorway, he didn’t want this night to end, but at the same time, he desperately needed to shower.

Derek slowly walked down the stairs and Stiles waved as he went. He slowly closes the door and rests against it.

“Damn, what a night. What a fucking hell of a night that was,” Stiles couldn’t help but say.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #fanfic #oneshot #myfic

[girlmeetsliv3]

No Time to Die

Trigger Warning: Some heavy stuff and dark things ahead.

           It was bittersweet really. Wasn’t love always bittersweet? That’s the way he made it. So sickeningly sweet one moment and so appealingly bitter the next. Perhaps that’s why he was so attractive? It was the chase. The thing we are all taught from a young age – men are wild animals. One must try to tame them. They must be tamed or else they will leave and abandon you. Or perhaps was that just the way you were raised? Hm. Something to think about, no? Does it matter? It doesn’t really change anything at the end of the day. But at the same thing, it could’ve changed a lot. You would like to think that you wouldn’t have fallen for him. That you could’ve resisted it: the beauty, the grace, the way words rolled so smoothly off his tongue. Or are you fooling yourself once again? The way you’ve done so many times before. To be fair, you wouldn’t be the first to fall for his charms. He, after all, was an expert at luring in prey. Seducing them to the dark side. Sweeping them off their feet so fast that they suffered whiplash. It was impossible to resist really. After all, you’ve always been weak for clichés.

           Oh, and he was a cliché, wasn’t he? The way he strolled into that bar: dressed all in black with an aura that exuded power – danger. The type you had read, heard, and seen in just about every form of entertainment targeted towards naïve, inexperienced, young women. Of course, you made eye-contact. Of course, he smirked. Of course, he then ignored you and chose to nurse a drink at the bar, that you would later learn he hated. He hated the taste of whiskey, how it burned when it went down, but it was part of the image. Part of the illusion. If he had ordered something else – perhaps the fruity drinks you knew he preferred, would you have fallen for it? The image of him you’d created inside your head. Probably not. It’s okay though, you fit the image inside his. The ideal. Boy, he could probably smell you a mile away: the hard-headed girl with strong opinions, a tough outer shell but such a soft inside. The type that was so willing to bend and mold into whatever anyone wanted. Into anything that guaranteed attention and affection. At an age where a smile or a kind word can be so easily misunderstood. Where one is still under the illusion that “bad things happen, but not to me.”

           What was it again? That he said? Ah yes, something about the weather. It was raining and the air outside was so suffocating that you couldn’t stand to be outside for more than a few seconds. But you went, outside didn’t you? He wanted a smoke and asked if you would go with him. You immediately agreed and then tried to play it off, cheeks blushing a bright red due to your awkwardness. “You’re cute.” He said, before leading you towards the front entrance. Remember thinking how you thought that you would be safe if something went wrong because there were people outside? If only you’d known that as long as you were with him, you were never safe. Oh, how you smiled and laughed even as the toxic smoke-filled your lungs. Even when it reminded you of broken bottles, broken promises, and broken families. It didn’t matter, because he was oh so perfect and he would only want you if you were the same. So, you tried to be. You smiled, but not too much. You laughed, but not too much. And you talked, but never more than him. It worked, didn’t it? You exchanged numbers, he promised he called, and he did; two weeks later, but he called.

           What was it that he said? “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” It was so stereotypical – fictitious, fabricated, fake – but of course, it was he was feeding you lines after all. Everything that it took to ensnare you in his web. Remember the party? You poured so much time and effort into your outfit and makeup but still went in a pair of ripped jeans and blouse because god forbid it to look like you put effort into your look. He couldn’t know that it was for him. But he did know. Of course, he did. He saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw him sitting on that old leather couch sipping on some shitty craft beer. But he ignored you. All night. Barely even spared a glance your way. Good thing you had brought your friends because you had assumed as much. He may an expert at the game, but you were aware of its rules; enough to last you the first couple of rounds. Hell, didn’t he call you the next morning? Shocked that you hadn’t approached him at the party. Shocked that you hadn’t even texted him when you had arrived. You had won, hadn’t you?

           The date was nice though, you can admit that much. You expected some fancy restaurants and maybe a movie. One that was good enough to watch, but not too good that it would absorb all your attention. How was he supposed to kiss you during a scene then? Or do that cringey thing where he asked to hold your hand or leaned into you. He didn’t though, take you to a fancy restaurant that is. He took you to the beach. A moonlight picnic on a private beach. So, the two of you could talk, “without the pretense of small talk or a movie to bother us.” Talk you did, for three hours, the time passed by so quickly. The two of you practically knew everything about each other. He had said that he’d never connected to someone the way he had to you. Oh, how your heart had fluttered, and eyes shined as he stared so deeply into you – too deeply some would say. Remember the joke? Sure, at the time, it seemed funny but now it's not so funny is it? At the time, it seemed like he was playing into a trope, but now that same phrase keeps you up at night.

           “I bet we could do just about anything here. Not like anyone could hear or see us.”

           “What kind of things are you thinking about, huh? Perv.”

           “Trust me. You don’t want to know…they’d probably have you running for the hills.”

           “Ooh, scary.”

           The images that pop into your head nowadays are scary. Isn’t that why you can’t sleep at night? It wasn’t scary that night though, not with the way the glowed so effortlessly. The full moon capturing his beauty so eerily, you wondered if he was something out of your imagination. He probably would’ve been delighted if you had ever expressed those thoughts. That was his goal after all: to be your knight in shining armor. The one you had waited for all these years. The one that was there to save you. Oh, how you longed to be saved. Who’s going to save you now? You didn’t have to worry about anything with him. He was always there whenever you needed him. Even when it made absolutely no sense for him to be there. Like how he was able to be at your house in under ten minutes when those burglars broke in. Wasn’t he supposed to be out of town with his friends? Or how about that time you and he fought because your mom was hospitalized yet again. It was so sweet when he showed up at the hospital room with a “get well soon” card, balloons, and flowers. So sweet that you forgot the fact that you had never mentioned what room she was staying in, the hospital, or the fact that she was even sick.

He just knows things. Is what you had always said, trying to justify it to yourself. Like how he guessed your astrological sign and then from there your exact birthdate – on the third date. How he knew your favorite sweets and scents; “You just smell sweet. So, I assumed you like sweet things.” Your favorite color? “You seem like a baby blue person.” Your favorite food? “Whoever doesn’t like this has no taste.” Ah, yes. Even that. “My ex was about the same size, so I just guessed.” That one had hurt you a bit. It implied that he had a type, that you weren’t special. He must’ve seen the look on your face for he leaned in real close and mentioned how he couldn’t wait to see it on.

“Just the image in my head has me almost collapsing on my knees.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Funny.”

It was a funny thought: that you would ever get to be in control of that. Oh no, he needed to be in control. He once told you that nothing got him more riled up, then having you submit completely to him. To the point where you placed your life in his hands. Remember when you did that? Just to please him. When you were shaking with fear at the thought of his hands around your neck, but he had asked so nicely that you couldn’t say no. It was only a one-time thing, right? Like the marks? Like the bites? Like the pain? But all of that was better than his words. Then the disappointment in his face when you failed him, yet again.

“Didn’t I say you should call me when you got home?”

“You know how dangerous it is to be out at night.”

“If your boss is that insufferable then just quit already. How many times have I told you I can maintain us both?”

“If your friends are so annoying why do you keep hanging out with them?!”

“I told you it would be cold outside, but no. You wanted to wear that dress.”

It was the dress you’d worn when you first met. Of course, it was special, and you wanted to wear it as much as you could. You did like wearing until “I don’t know it looks kind of suggestive.” You being the fool that you were asked him to elaborate, “Suggestive of what?” He had said so casually as if it was a truth of the matter, “Suggestive of sexual availability.” What? “You look like a slut.” You had locked yourself in your room that night and cried. Not because of what he said, but because of how it made you feel. Mother had always said men didn’t like sluts and here you were dressing like one. You were so foolish. You threw out all your short dresses and skirts in your fit of despair, but you kept the white dress. It was oh so pretty and you couldn’t ponder getting rid of it. So, you tucked it away in a little corner of your dresser, where one would have to actively look for it to find it. It was a hiding spot you had discovered years ago, and it was where you kept all your precious items hidden.

You would come to regret such a decision when he had found it years later. Truth be told you had forgotten about it, but he wasn’t having it all. Even when you explained its significance to you. “So, you want to cling onto your old life, then? The one you had before us?!” It was no use. He would never understand. There were many things he “didn’t understand,” but that was okay because there would be many things you didn’t understand either. Like how he found out about your admission into the university when you hadn’t even told anyone. Or even spoken about it to him. How he always knew where you were. Even though you had triple-checked your phone for a tracking device. You weren’t too sure he hadn’t put one inside you. You still aren’t too sure he didn’t. Which is why going through metal detectors still freaks you out so much. Just another thing to add to the list of ever-growing things that haunt you.

What was it about him? Truly? There had been others. Others just like him, but he was something unique. It was uncanny really; how perfect he was. How perfectly he fit you, almost as if he was made for you. He was Galatea and you were Pygmalion – or was it the other way around? At first, it looked like that, but now you aren’t so sure. You did change. How much was for him and how much was for you, that you don’t know. Perhaps he was so good that every choice was made by him, but just like the puppet on the strings; your choice was an illusion. Doesn’t matter now, does it? All of those years of anguish and pain turn to nothing when he smiles at you. What a beautiful smile it is straight pearly whites framed by cherry red lips, how it crinkled the corner of his brown eyes. You could stare at him forever until the smile left his eyes that is. Then all you’d want to do is run.

Running never helped though, but you couldn’t help it. He never blamed you either, it’s human nature or a fighter you never were. Not until the end. Not until you had to be. It’s funny how a moment could seem so eternal and be over so quickly, in the blink of an eye really. You thought the two of you would last forever, that you would grow old together. The image you had fabricated in your head was so perfect, you should’ve known that you would never be able to reach it. Still, that’s the beauty of dreams. The two of you often shared your dreams: in yours, the two of you would be together in life. In his, you’d be together in death. “Right, baby?” There was only one answer. Even if it was the wrong one. Even if saying the words meant bile crawling up your throat and wanting to gouge your eyes out. “Of course.” It’s a miracle that you lasted as long as you did, but you were his favorite – that’s why you lasted so long. None had been able to reach his standards, able to surpass them. You did that and so much more. Remember how proud he looked when the knife pierced through his flesh and right into his heart? It was the first time he ever looked at you – truly looked at you – and not the image of you he had created in his head. You could almost swear those were tears of joy in his eyes if you didn’t know the pain of being stabbed that is.

“I love you.”

I love you too. I love you so much. Please. Please don’t leave me. Please stay with me. Please forgive me. You remained silent and stoic as you watched the life drain out of him. The smile never did leave his eyes, did it? It’s a shame there was no funeral. You would’ve liked to see him one last time, but you can’t really have a funeral with when the body has been incinerated to the point of not being recognized. It’s what he deserved. That way you were certain he was really gone. That he wouldn’t come back and haunt you. It’s okay though, better to feel this than nothing at all – no? After all what kind of ending could you have expected…you never were one for happy endings.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which as they kiss consume.

#girlmeetsliv3 #no time to die #bts x reader #yandere bts x reader #these violent delights have violent ends #and in their triumph die like fire and water #which as they kiss consume